The village was bigger than I expected.
Not big, obviously — nothing compared to the Celestial estate or even Frosthollow. But after five days of mostly seeing the orphanage and the immediate area, actually walking through Wayford felt like exploring a new world.
Small houses made of wood and stone lined the dirt path.
People milled about — trading at small stalls, chatting in doorways, chasing after runaway children. A blacksmith's hammer rang out in rhythmic beats from somewhere to my left. The smell of fresh bread mixed with something less pleasant from what I assumed was a tannery.
It was... peaceful. The kind of place that made you forget there was a war going on.
I had three things to do: find the Rusty Mug, find the swordsman, and get some answers.
Simple, right?
Wrong.
I stopped a woman carrying a basket of vegetables and gave her my most charming smile — the one that usually worked on the servants back home when I needed extra food from the kitchen.
