If my life could be summed up in one sentence, it'd probably be: "Just passing through, then chaos ensues."
Today, I just wanted to buy a stuffed bun in a small village called Harthmere.
They say it's peaceful, quiet, and famous for its herbal tea that can cure stress.
Perfect for some healing after the whole rotten tea cult incident last week.
As soon as I got off the ox cart, I was greeted by dust and the smell of stale grass. I patted my worn-out clothes—honestly, I haven't washed them in two weeks because the river at the last place smelled like diesel. Meanwhile, Valmor—my sarcastic horse who's smarter than most people—was casually walking beside me, stealing leaves from someone's yard. Elegant as always.
The food stall was my first destination. There was a hand-painted sign that immediately raised suspicion:
"FOOD & SECRETS OF THE WORLD – Prices Negotiable."
I walked in without thinking twice. Sat in the corner, ordered some sweet tea, and tried my best to look like an average villager with absolutely no agenda.
The key to a long life? Stay low profile.
The stall was quiet.
Only three people inside, each way too suspicious for a remote village.
One wore full military uniform—complete with sunglasses. Indoors.
On a cloudy day.
So dramatic.
Another wore a long, dusty gray cloak like some freelance exorcist.
And the third? Dressed like a commoner… but with genuine dragon leather boots.
Fancy.
They sat apart, but kept throwing glances like they were playing some elite guessing game.
"The blue sky will fall at nine," said the sunglasses guy, stirring soup that didn't even exist yet.
"If the land dries, the rice must be watered with blood," replied the cloak dude, like he was rehearsing a play.
I stayed quiet. Nibbled on some crackers slowly while thinking:
What is this? Code language? Performance art? Or are they just malnourished?
I whispered to Valmor, who popped his head through the window with that calm, world-weary vibe.
"If the sky falls, I'm running first. You can deal with the politics."
Valmor just gave me a look while chewing on leaves.
"I like 'blue sky.' That was the name of the soap we stole from that cheap inn once."
My horse clearly has a better long-term memory than I do.
Suddenly, the cloaked guy stood up.
Threw a piece of paper on the floor, then walked out without paying.
The "commoner" followed.
The military guy? Gone.
No clue how.
Could've used the back door, or just teleported. I've learned not to ask too many questions about shady people.
That's the kingdom's job, not mine.
The old lady brought my tea. Her face was blank, her voice sharp like a social media comment section.
"Your friends, huh? Always hanging around here talking about the end of the world."
"Ma'am, I just want my tea. If the sky is falling, please give me a five-minute warning so I can run first."
I took a sip of the tea.
Bitter.
Of course.
Sugar's practically a precious metal these days.
But it wasn't the tea that made me uneasy. There was something about the air in this village… tense. Like something was about to explode. Like a country pretending to be peaceful but secretly waiting for a scandal. Like... well, the country of the world I come from.
And why did I just see a kid scratching symbols into the dirt while singing the national anthem… with the wrong lyrics?
Valmor appeared on the porch and sat down.
Sat down like a horse who's done with the world.
"I heard those three are from the Kingdom, the Empire, and the Alliance. Is this their little bonfire of peace?"
I looked at him, exhausted.
"I just wanted a stuffed bun."
The sky was getting darker.
The wind colder.
And somehow, I knew… this village wouldn't be the same tomorrow.
But for now? I just wanted sweet tea and a little peace.
Too bad peace is the rarest thing in this world.
Right after stuffed buns.