Even though a long time had passed, a remote village like Horgaz remained untouched by the progress of the age.
That was what Rea thought as she observed the houses of Horgaz wooden structures and red brick walls, unchanged since generations past.
A small river dam served as an irrigation system for the fields, for nearly all the villagers still depended on farming: wheat fields, fruit orchards, and sheep herding.
The village roads were damp and muddy. Old warehouses stored harvested crops, sheep bleated from small pens beside houses, horse-drawn carts carried wheat bound for trade, and children ran through the streets, laughing as they played games of chase.
After walking a little farther beyond the village gate, Rea arrived at the home of the village chief, Wen Wo. A horse-drawn carriage stood parked outside the same one that had passed her earlier on the road while she was escorting Noa.
Several guards in full armor stood watch around the house.
Rea approached and asked calmly, "Sir, may I pass?"
Startled by her sudden appearance, one of them replied,
"What business do you have here, miss?"
"I wish to speak with the village chief."
The knights, tasked with guarding their superior, could not grant permission lightly.
"At the moment, Sir Carven is engaged in an important discussion. We ask that you wait until it concludes."
"That's fine." Rea had no reason to hurry.
She stood quietly at the edge of the courtyard, letting time flow past her like a river she had no intention of chasing. The guards occasionally cast wary glances her way not because she seemed dangerous, but because her calmness felt unsettling for a stranger in a remote village like Horgaz.
From behind the wooden and brick walls came muffled sounds of argument. Heavy voices, rising at times, mixed with the clink of metal perhaps a sword sheath brushing against a table. Rea closed her eyes briefly. She recognized that rhythm.
This was no ordinary conversation it was a discussion about threats.
Not long after, the door opened.
A middle-aged man in a neat robe stepped out first. His hair was slicked back, his face sharp and calculating. The emblem on his chest marked him as no villager, but a noble perhaps an emissary or a knight of rank.
The argument between Wen Wo, the village chief of Horgaz, and a noble from the Kingdom of Artez named Carven grew loud enough for Rea to hear.
"This is your responsibility, Lord Wo," Carven snapped.
"I understand, Sir Carven," Wen Wo replied weakly, struggling to explain, "but there is nothing we can do. This village is filled with the elderly, middle-aged women, and children. It's impossible for us to fight back."
"I don't care about that," Carven cut in. "You must still pay the tax. It is your obligation."
"But sir—"
"No excuses." Short. Firm. Uncaring.
Before the tension inside could settle, the door opened again this time quietly.
A man stepped out, his expression worn. He slipped a hand into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it lazily. Thin smoke drifted into the air.
Unlike the soldiers clad in full armor, this man looked plain. His clothes were clean but old, his robe devoid of luxury except for a strange emblem on its back.
He moved a short distance from the door and leaned against one of the wooden pillars of the chief's house. Smoke flowed slowly from his lips as he exhaled deeply.
The commotion inside the house was nothing more than familiar background noise to him another argument about money and authority.
Rea watched him closely. The man glanced at her briefly, then returned his gaze to the sky above. His eyes were empty, yet behind that fatigue lay the alertness of someone accustomed to danger.
Several seconds passed in silence.
"Is there a problem?" Rea asked, breaking the quiet between them.
The man turned toward her, his face flickering with mild surprise, as though he were pretending to notice her only now, despite her having been nearby all along.
He exhaled smoke before answering. "Nothing unusual. This isn't the first time."
"Hm."
Rea offered no interest in pursuing the topic.
"A few days ago, the village tax money was stolen," the man continued. "A group of thieves. Fast. Organized."
"How unfortunate," Rea replied flatly.
"Indeed. That money was meant for the Kingdom of Artez's harvest tax this season."
The corner of his lips lifted slightly a bitter smile without humor.
"They were clever, choosing a small village where there'd be no resistance," Rea said lazily.
"And now all that anger is being directed at the village chief."
"Yes. I can hear it from here," Rea answered, uninterested.
She glanced toward the tightly shut door. Carven's voice rang out again from inside harsh and oppressive.
"What are you doing here?" the man asked, his tone turning cautious.
"I just want to meet the village chief," Rea replied calmly.
He let out a hollow chuckle.
"Then you'll have to wait. That may take a while he's busy enduring Sir Carven's anger."
"That's fine."
The man took another drag from his cigarette, gazing up at the scorching midday sky.
"My name's Zen," he said suddenly, as though the decision to introduce himself came late.
"I'm a Grover. Assigned to 'help' resolve this issue."
He continued smoking in silence, exhaling repeatedly, occasionally sighing as though bearing the weight of life itself.
An uncomfortable feeling arose when he noticed a pair of eyes fixed on him with unusual intensity.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"Nothing," Rea replied. "I was just wondering don't you feel hot wearing that robe under this sun?"
"It is hot," Zen admitted, "but this robe is my pride as a member of the Grover order."
Rea had no idea what Grover meant. Yet her gaze remained fixed on the symbol stitched across the back of Zen's robe.
The way she stared flat, emotionless made Zen uneasy. He could not read her thoughts at all.
"…What is it now?" he asked.
"I'm curious about the image on the back of your robe."
"Oh. This is the emblem of the Grover Association. It shouldn't seem strange."
What Zen didn't realize was that the term Grover did not exist in the past.
But Rea wasn't asking about its name. Her interest lay elsewhere.
"Not that," she said calmly. "I just thought the symbol looks like the striped markings on a cat's head. That's all I see."
But Rea's question wasn't about its name.
"Not that. I just thought… it looks like the striped markings on a cat's head. That's all I see."
"Don't joke,"
Zen frowned, rejecting her claim, yet curiosity got the better of him. He turned and examined his own robe seriously.
A sudden realization struck him.
"…You're right. I never even noticed that."
"Hm. I feel like I've seen this somewhere before…" Rea paused, thinking. "Oh wasn't this…?"