Old Book

The air in Pompom Village shimmered with warmth and cheer, carrying the scent of fresh bread, drying herbs, and pinewood. Birds fluttered along rooftops, and the bustle of the morning market had just begun to swell. Merchants shouted prices, children ran between stalls, and the clinking of metal wares rang through the air like bells.

Among the crowd walked Solis, his eyes bright, his posture lighter than usual. The weight that often clung to his shoulders seemed absent today. He strode with purpose, his worn boots tapping rhythmically against cobblestone.

He had earned it— this sense of ease.

Two days spent venturing deeper into the Border Forest, navigating its shifting roots and half-hidden trails, had proven more fruitful than he'd imagined. The bag at his bacj was nearly bursting with mineral ores and rare herbs.

"I still can't believe I found Puffwort growing beside that fallen crystal tree," Solis muttered to himself, lips curling into a grin. "And Golden Ruper— Ada is going to flip it."

Besides those, he had discovered a few rarities even Vaidya might get excited about: Emberleaf, a herb known to slightly increase resistance to heat; Frostvine, which shimmered with a faint bluish glow; and Whisperroot, used in low-tier sound dampening potions.

He ducked beneath a string of colorful cloths hanging over the marketplace and weaved through stalls. His first stop: the blacksmith. There, he traded a few of the iron ores for 100 gold coin and a bundle of sharpened bolts he didn't quite need but figured might come in handy.

Then he scouted for gear— his true goal.

Boots, arm gloves, utility belts… all useful, but none of them worth his precious ores. What he needed was a proper shield. Even though after becoming an official Postknight he never used a shield, still weeks ago while saving Phill he has to go in the deep part of that iron mine. That place was infested with many powerful mutant monsters. Now to think of it he can't rely on his sword too much for defense too. It already getting some fatigue and scratches on it.

He passed a dozen stalls before something caught his eye. A grizzled old vendor, eyes sharp as flint, was leaning beside a polished, dark-wooded shield with reinforced steel trim.

Solis stopped.

"That one," he pointed.

The man grunted. "Intermediate-grade. Good core, reinforced edge. Light enough to move fast, strong enough to block a beast's charge. Hmm.... I have to say young man, your choice seems quite good."

Solis inspected it carefully. The surface was smooth, the balance decent, and though it had a few scratches, the overall condition was solid.

"Fifty iron ores," the vendor said, crossing his arms.

Solis hesitated, then nodded. "Deal."

They shook hands, and the exchange was made. Shield now slung over his back, Solis resumed walking, content.

Just as he rounded a corner to head toward the herb stalls, a merchant with sharp eyes and a velvet-stitched robe stepped in his path.

"Young man," the merchant said, eyeing the sword at Solis's hip. "You carry a blade, do you not?"

Solis blinked. "Yeah. Why?"

"Then perhaps you'd be interested in a tome few others have laid eyes on. Unique sword techniques— pre-Golden Era of magic. No mana was needed. Just discipline, precision, and strength."

He pulled a leather-bound book from beneath his cloak. It looked aged but well-preserved. The cover bore an old, unfamiliar emblem— a silhouette of a sword surrounded by rays.

Solis tilted his head. "Why sell this here?"

"Why not? You seemed like someone who respects the blade. Just twenty gold coins."

Solis hesitated. The shield had taken a good chunk of his trade stock. But something about the book— it stirred curiosity in him. He handed over the gold coins and took the tome.

"Pleasure doing business," the merchant said with a smirk before disappearing into the crowd.

---

That evening, the sun dipped behind the mountains and painted the sky in lavender and rose. The inn's hearth flickered warmly, casting shadows that danced along the wooden walls.

Solis placed the book between his companions on their table, the aroma of stew filling the air.

"You bought.... this?" Ada frowned, squinting at the cover.

Vaidya, spoon halfway to his mouth, adjusted his glasses. "Hmm. Let me see that."

Solis passed it over. Ada crossed her arms. "Solis, come on. Sword techniques that don't use magic? That's like buying armor made of paper. At least you have imbude it with your internal energy to make the material hard."

Solis shrugged. "It looked interesting back then."

Vaidya flipped a few pages, eyes narrowing in concentration. "Actually... this doesn't seem total garbage. Some of these stances look practical. The descriptions are archaic, but readable."

Ada raised a brow. "Are you seriously entertaining this?"

"Not entertaining. Analyzing. There's a difference between them."

Solis leaned forward. "Maybe I'll try some of them out tomorrow."

Ada rolled her eyes. "Sure. Just don't throw your back out trying to master some 'ancient technique.'"

Vaidya glanced up. "By the way, anyone seen Razille today?"

Solis's expression shifted. "No... I was going to ask you."

Ada shook her head. "Haven't seen her either for hours. Maybe she's out soothing herself again. She has always been distant like this. Searching for peace, she says."

Solis frowned but said nothing. His fingers tapped the book's cover.

The door to the inn burst open suddenly, letting in the sounds of laughter and music from the street. Maglina, the timid but ever-caring village coordinator, stood in the doorway, clapping for attention.

"Everyone!"

The room fell silent.

Maglina beamed. "I bring glad tidings! After much work and planning, we're proud to announce the return of our beloved tradition: the Pompom Festival!"

A wave of cheers erupted from the villagers and Postknights alike.

"To honor the brave Postknights who helped rebuild our home after the dragon's fury, we humbly request your presence for seven more days of joy and festivity!"

The room exploded with applause. Cups were raised. Laughter and excitement spread like wildfire.

Solis smiled faintly, but his thoughts wandered. The shield strapped to his back. The sword at his hip. The book of forgotten knowledge.

Tomorrow would come. With it, training, searching for his inner-self.

For now, though, there was warmth, friends, and the promise of celebration.