Unknown language and magicians

The old lady's question caught me off guard, her curiosity piqued by my familiarity with the unfamiliar language. Her smile, though, carried a warmth that put me at ease, as if she found a glimmer of familiarity in my presence.

"Do you read this language too, my child?" she inquired, her tone laced with genuine interest. "I've never encountered someone of your age who knows this language."

Her happiness was palpable, like a gentle breeze on a warm summer's day. She went on to share a glimpse of her past, her voice tinged with nostalgia and fond remembrance.

"I used to learn this language in my leisure time from my grandmother," she explained, her words painting a picture of cherished moments spent in the company of a beloved elder. "My grandmother was a noble who exuded elegance and grace in every step. I still have faint memories of our time together... she was so captivating that my grandfather remained wary of other men, even in his old age."

Helen felt a pang of surprise course through her as she watched the old lady effortlessly decipher the unfamiliar script. "Madame," I began tentatively, my curiosity piqued, "I must confess my ignorance of this language. Yet, the inscription intrigues me. Might you assist me in unraveling its meaning?"

The old lady's smile held a hint of mystery as she replied, "Hoohoo, yes, my dear. Please, pass me the book. Let me peruse its contents."

With a mixture of anticipation and bewilderment, I retrieved the book from the nearby table, feeling its weight in my hands as I presented it to her. She accepted it with a graceful nod, her eyes immediately drawn to the intricate symbols adorning the pages.

As she immersed herself in the cryptic text, time seemed to slow, each moment stretched taut with anticipation. I watched in quiet awe as her gaze darted across the pages, her expression shifting subtly with each revelation.

Minutes stretched into an eternity as the old lady meticulously deciphered the enigmatic language. With a sudden clarity, she looked up, her eyes sparkling with newfound understanding.

"It is a language of old," she explained, her voice carrying a weight of ancient wisdom. "A tongue spoken by civilizations long forgotten, etched into the annals of time."

I leaned forward, captivated by her words, eager to uncover the secrets hidden within the pages. "And what does it say?" I inquired, my heart racing with anticipation.

And with that, she returned the book to my trembling hands, leaving me with a newfound sense of wonder and the promise of untold adventures yet to unfold.

unknown language ~~~~○○○○○○○○○○

[Η ψυχή ενός καλλιεργητή αποκτά δύναμη από τις πεποιθήσεις τους. Να είστε σίγουροι και να καλέσετε τον Πήγασο του χιονιού. Φωνάξτε το όνομα που επιλέγετε από αυτά τα τρία - Balnairas, Sylphior ή Custard. Το θηρίο θα σας καθοδηγούσε στην αιώνια καλλιέργεια] (written in greek )

The old lady fixed her gaze upon me, her voice taking on a tone both wise and commanding. "A cultivator's soul," she began, her words resonating with ancient knowledge, "draws strength from their beliefs. Be steadfast and summon forth the snow pegasus. Choose a name from these three: Balnairas, Sylphior, or Custard. The creature shall serve as your guide on the path to eternal cultivation."

Her words hung in the air, laden with a sense of profound significance. I felt a shiver of anticipation ripple through me, mingling with a newfound determination. This was no ordinary instruction; it carried the weight of destiny itself.

The names swirled in my mind, each one imbued with its own unique essence. Balnairas, with its regal ring, conjured images of strength and resilience. Sylphior, ethereal and mysterious, whispered of hidden depths and untold secrets. And then there was Custard, an unexpected choice amidst the grandeur, yet possessing a charm all its own.

With newfound resolve, I stepped forward, ready to embark upon the path laid out before me. For in that moment, I knew that destiny had beckoned, and I was ready to answer its call.

As I mulled over the old lady's cryptic words, a sense of curiosity gnawed at the edges of my mind. "Hmm... I should give this a try once I return home," I thought to myself, a determined expression settling upon my features. "I have no desire to encounter any more unexpected incidents here."

With a genuine smile, I extended my gratitude to the lady for her invaluable assistance. "Thank you so much for your help," I expressed, my voice laced with sincerity.

As our conversation continued, another question surfaced in my mind, one that had been nagging at me since my arrival in this unfamiliar place. "Madam," I began tentatively, "I couldn't help but notice something peculiar while exploring the street center earlier today."

The old lady's eyes twinkled with amusement as she encouraged me to voice my inquiry. "Of course, my child. Ask away," she replied warmly.

I hesitated for a moment before continuing, my curiosity outweighing any apprehension. "Well, you see, amidst the bustling shops and vendors, I couldn't find any stores selling weapons," I confessed, a furrow forming between my brows. "Considering that we reside in a village near the magical forest, wouldn't having access to weapons be a daily necessity?"

A hearty laugh erupted from the old lady, causing me to pause in surprise. Her laughter was rich and melodic, echoing through the tranquil room. "Oh, my dear child," she chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You needn't worry about such matters here. The safety of our village is ensured by a force far greater than any weapon."

I regarded her with a mixture of confusion and intrigue, eager to unravel the mystery she had presented. "But why is that?" I pressed, my curiosity piqued. "What prevents the beasts from venturing beyond the confines of the magical forest?"

The old lady's smile softened, her gaze turning inward as she considered her response. "Ah, that is a tale as old as time itself," she began, her voice carrying the weight of ancient knowledge. "It is said that the magical forest holds within its depths a power so potent, so primal, that even the fiercest beasts dare not stray beyond its borders."

I listened intently, captivated by her words. The notion of a force capable of warding off danger without the need for conventional weaponry filled me with awe and wonder. It was a testament to the enduring mysteries of the world around us, a reminder that there was still so much left to discover.

The old lady's suggestion brought a sense of comfort to our conversation, and I readily agreed, my stomach echoing her sentiments with a soft rumble. As we made our way downstairs to the dining hall, I couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected bond that had formed between us in such a short span of time.

It was a peculiar sensation, one that felt both familiar and foreign all at once. Just yesterday, the old lady had been nothing more than a passing stranger, yet now, as we sat side by side, I couldn't shake the feeling that she was akin to a close friend or even family. It was a connection unlike any I had experienced before, save for the cherished bond I shared with my father, the Duke.

With the assistance of the attentive waiters, we were seated at a cozy table for two, bathed in the warm glow of flickering lanterns that dotted the room. The soft crackle of the fireplace added to the intimate ambiance, casting a gentle warmth over our surroundings. It was reminiscent of a candlelit dinner in modern times, yet imbued with an undeniable sense of old-world charm.

As we settled into our seats, the old lady reached out to tap my hand gently, her voice barely above a whisper. "Child," she began, her eyes alight with a hint of mischief, "do you know what the most special dish served here is?"

As I glanced around the dimly lit dining hall, my eyes settled on just three other guests, their presence adding to the quiet intimacy of the moment. I couldn't quite fathom why the old lady had chosen to whisper, especially with so few people around, but there was a certain thrill in it, as if we were sharing a clandestine secret, plotting something devious together.

A playful smile tugged at my lips as I whispered my response to her inquiry. "I don't know, Madame," I replied in kind, reveling in the shared secrecy of our exchange. "You can order whatever you think would suit my taste."

The old lady signaled for the waiter, her voice hushed as she conveyed her request. I couldn't help but wonder what delicacy she had chosen, tingling with anticipation as the waiter nodded in understanding before disappearing into the depths of the kitchen.

"Yes, yes," the old lady murmured with a fond smile, her gaze fixed on me. "My child is eagerly awaiting it."

My excitement bubbled over as I leaned forward, unable to contain my curiosity any longer. "Is it a surprise?" I asked, my eyes shining with anticipation.

The old lady's smile softened, a tender warmth emanating from her as she spoke. "It's something my daughter loved," she revealed, her voice laced with emotion. "I used to make it for her every weekend... It's a simple dish, but I poured all my love into it for her. When I look at you, I'm reminded of my baby, and I want to share that memory with you."

Her words struck a chord within me, a bittersweet reminder of the enduring bond between a parent and child. I watched as a lone tear threatened to escape her eye, her strength wavering for just a moment before she regained her composure, a gentle smile gracing her lips.

In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, I felt a deep connection with the old lady, a shared understanding of love and loss that transcended words. And as we awaited the arrival of our meal, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected bond that had blossomed between us, forged in the quiet moments of shared whispers and unspoken truths.

There was a heavy silence that enveloped us, thick with unspoken sorrow. As I sat across from the old lady, my heart ached with the weight of her loss. I felt utterly powerless, unsure of how to offer solace to a mother who had lost her only child.

Lost in the quiet of the night, I found myself consumed by a whirlwind of thoughts and questions, each one more perplexing than the last. The image of a young girl, just twelve years old, with eyes mirroring my own and hair ablaze with the power of fire elemental magic, haunted my mind. How could a commoner possess such extraordinary abilities? And why would she venture into the perilous depths of the magical forest alone?

The implications of her journey stirred a tempest of uncertainty within me. Could she have made her way to the capital, defying the odds and overcoming the dangers that lurked within the forest's shadowy depths? And the most unsettling question of all-could she be connected to me in some way? Was there a possibility, however remote, that she might be linked to the mother I had lost so many years ago?

With each passing moment, the weight of these questions bore down upon me, threatening to unravel the fragile threads of my understanding. I felt adrift in a sea of uncertainty, grappling with the enigmatic puzzle that lay before me.

The arrival of the dish broke the somber silence that had settled between us.

"Ma'am and my lady, here is your ordered dish, 'ommu rice'," the waiter announced, presenting the simple yet enticing meal before us.

As the aroma of the dish enveloped the air, I couldn't help but feel a sense of surprise and curiosity. Never had I expected that a dish as humble and familiar as "ommu rice" would hold such significance in this enchanting setting.

With a glance exchanged between us, the old lady and I shared a silent understanding. She awaited my reaction, her eyes reflecting a mixture of anticipation and fond reminiscence.

Taking a tentative bite, I was immediately greeted by an explosion of flavors that danced across my palate. The omelet, delicately draped over the bed of mixed rice, melted effortlessly in my mouth, its velvety texture complementing the rich, savory notes of the dish.

Each grain of rice was infused with a medley of spices, creating a symphony of taste that left me utterly captivated. There was a subtle tanginess that lingered on my tongue, perfectly balanced by the warmth of the spices. It was a culinary masterpiece, crafted with care and love.

In that moment, as I savored each mouthful of "ommu rice," I realized that words were unnecessary. My delight was evident in the sparkle of my eyes, the contented sigh that escaped my lips. And the old lady, ever perceptive, understood the depth of my appreciation without the need for spoken compliments.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As we savored each mouthful of the delectable "ommu rice," the old lady's voice broke the tranquil atmosphere of the dining hall, weaving a tale of ancient magic and forgotten heroes.

"The boundaries of the magical forest," she began, her voice tinged with reverence, "were enchanted by spells that prevent magical beasts from venturing beyond its depths. This feat was accomplished decades ago, through the collaborative efforts of hundreds of elementalists and magicians."

Her words carried a weight of history and significance, stirring a sense of wonder within me. I had never heard of magicians before; in my world, tales of elementalists were the stuff of legend and folklore. The notion of another class of magic-users intrigued me, sparking a newfound curiosity.

"Magicians?" I echoed, my voice tinged with disbelief. "Where are they now? I've never heard of any magicians!"

The old lady's gaze softened, her expression filled with a mix of nostalgia and sorrow. "Ah, child," she murmured, her words heavy with regret, "the magicians of old have long since faded into obscurity. Once revered for their mastery of arcane arts, they have become little more than whispers in the annals of history."

Her words resonated with a sense of loss, hinting at a bygone era where magic flourished in all its forms. I couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow for these forgotten heroes, whose contributions had shaped the world in ways I could scarcely imagine.

Yet, even as the old lady spoke of their disappearance, a flicker of hope danced in her eyes. "Though the magicians may have vanished," she continued, her voice filled with quiet resolve, "their legacy lives on in the enchantments they wrought. And as long as the boundaries of the magical forest stand firm, we owe them a debt of gratitude for protecting our world from the encroaching darkness."

The old lady's smile held a hint of wistfulness as she reminisced about the bygone era of magicians. "Yes, my child," she continued, her voice soft with nostalgia, "magicians once thrived across this continent, their talents revered alongside those of the elementalists. They were innovators, creators of devices that revolutionized daily life for all."

A comfortable silence fell between us as we continued to enjoy our meal, each bite infused with the flavors of memory and reflection. But soon, the old lady's voice broke the stillness once more, her words carrying a weight of sorrow and regret.

"Magicians were born with an innate beauty," she explained, her gaze distant as she delved into the complexities of their existence. "They possessed an elegant aura that marked them from birth, a grace that set them apart even if they were born into humble circumstances.""But those evil culprits were jealous and greedy," she spoke, her tone tinged with a somber gravity.

Confusion gripped me as I tried to make sense of her sudden shift in conversation. The unfamiliar terms-"culprit" and "greedy"-resonated with an unsettling weight, leaving me grasping for understanding.