The Village on the outskirts of the Woods

The village elder had said that, given the size of the fish he had been catching, one fish would at most be bought for 3 Aurums. In all honesty, Gresvin found this peculiar. Usually, in these regions where fish is abundant, the prices tend to be a bit lower, but this is extremely low. Gresvin could not help but ruefully smile when the elder had told him this.

'They really are dirt poor,' was the thought that came to mind, but Gresvin did not speak it, he kept it to himself and continued on with his daily routine. He would use medicine in the morning and start basic sword training if he could. Then, later in the day, he would go and watch the men and women work.

He would then use their techniques at dusk when all of them had returned to the village. He had studied the way they catch fish, and due to the days he observed them, he was able to learn a lot about fishing.

That was duly thanks to one or two men in particular; two fishermen had realized what Gresvin was doing, and although they could be more welcoming to outsiders. Gresvin had already been in the village for a few weeks; as such, they would now and then give him a few pointers regarding their fishing techniques, when the right time was to fish, and where one would be able to catch the most amount, based on the terrain of the river.

Days passed, and finally, after twenty-five days of nonstop healing, his wound had closed. With that being the case, Gresvin honored his agreement with the village elder and departed. He had asked the village elder about the surrounding areas, and although the village elder could give him a bit of information, it was not much by any means.

When Gresvin set off, a whole group of villagers came to see him off. Although he had only stayed for not more than a month, during that time, he had made quite a few acquaintances, and these villagers were the people with whom he had the most contact. Gresvin had smiled bitterly in response when he saw the villagers see him off; he had grown fond of this little village; were it not for them, he would probably still be suffering from his injuries or possibly have succumbed to them. But as he galloped away, he knew that the possibility of them ever meeting again would be slim.

Gresvin was not saddened by his departure, though, but instead, he warmly smiled and galloped away; his next destination was a small town on the edge of a small forest a few miles west of the fishing village. The reason for him going there was because he had learned many things from observing the men and women, and now he wanted to learn another skill that could come in handy in the future. 

He did not know what the future had in store for him, but after seeing the diligent lives of the fisherman, Gresvin realized that the only way he could possibly live in this region was if he could learn how to live there, and what better way to learn than observing those who had lived in this region their whole lives?

Gresvin had learned the art of fishing thanks to the fisherman. Although his skill was crude and his knowledge was rudimentary, he already had a way to make a living. From there on out, he would continue to improve, and his knowledge would grow as time passed.

The village he was heading towards was an agricultural village. According to the village elder, the primary source of food was different crops like wheat and barley. Thanks to the small forest, they were also able to harvest a few fruits.

Gresvin had decided then and there that he would visit the village and learn their way of life. The journey was short on horseback, but it still took him three days to ride to arrive at the village. There was a much more significant amount of fertile fields than in the fishing village; the wheat and barley grew from the ground like beanstalks. The golden brown colors gave Gresvin a sense of warmth, and seeing these fields reminded him of home, 'These look just like the ones we had in Oakfall, ' Gresvin reminisced, 'well maybe a bit less colorful and overall less in quantity.' 

He compared the fields of the small village to the ones of his home and could spot a few differences, primarily due to the shading of color. These crops were not that bright in color and seemed to have darker shading, while the golden fields he remembered glimmered like a sea of gold.

'I wonder why that is, though?' he pondered. He had made sure his horse slowed down; the horse had almost come to a complete stop. From galloping to a slow walk, they moved on the dirt road in between the fields. 

Gresvin refrained from doing anything that could damage the crops; he would not be able to pay for the damages. His horse continued on the path until they walked into the small village, which was on the outskirts of the forest and not very big. 

'Compared to the fishing village, this one seemed larger,' Gresvin thought as he observed the area. Just like what had happened in the fishing village, a crowd seemed to appear, and whispers were flying about so daringly that they could not even be described as whispers. 'I can hear you, you know,' Gresvin laughed silently; he wondered if it really was so strange for an outsider to visit the village.

The same scene then happened again. The village elder appeared, but he did not resemble the fishing village elder at all. The elder of the woodsmen was still walking strong, his back as straight as a stick. He did not need a walking stick to support him; he did not even resemble an old man, were it not for the aging hair on his head. His stature resembled a warrior.