The morning sun warmed Aziel's face as he navigated the dirt paths of Glenwood.
The village was stirring to life. Children chased each other, their laughter echoing through the narrow streets, while adults busied themselves with morning chores.
The buildings, constructed of sturdy wood and topped with thatched roofs, possessed a rustic charm. Small gardens, bursting with colorful flowers and fresh vegetables, lined the pathways, adding a touch of vibrancy to the scene.
Aziel noticed the occasional shrine, small and unassuming, dedicated to the Mighty Katuka, nestled between houses or at crossroads.
He observed the villagers as he passed, their faces open and friendly. Some offered him curious glances, others a warm smile or a nod of greeting. There was a sense of close-knit community, a feeling of shared purpose that permeated the air.
Aziel saw groups of people, young and old, practicing martial arts in the village square. Their movements were fluid and precise, a testament to their dedication and preparedness. Even the children mimicked the forms, their small limbs trying to copy the adults' stances.
The marketplace was beginning to bustle, vendors setting up their stalls, displaying wares ranging from fresh produce to handcrafted tools and colorful textiles. The aroma of freshly baked bread mingled with the scent of herbs and spices, a tantalizing mix that made Aziel's stomach rumble, despite his recent breakfast.
After walking for a while, taking in the sights and sounds of Glenwood, Aziel finally arrived at a small, unassuming building. It was constructed from the same sturdy wood as the other structures in the village, but a small, neatly painted sign above the door distinguished it: "Glenwood Clinic." A small, well-tended herb garden flanked the side of the building, filled with plants known for their medicinal properties.
This must be the clinic Madam Rosita had mentioned.
This was where her daughter, Dr. Hana, practiced her healing arts and served the community of Glenwood.
Aziel straightened his clothes, took a deep breath, and pushed open the wooden door, a small bell above it tinkling softly to announce his arrival.
**********
A petite woman with rich brown hair pulled back into a messy bun, sat hunched over her desk, the lamplight casting long shadows across the stacks of parchment and well-worn books. Her white coat, adorned with a nametag reading 'Dr. Hana,' was slightly rumpled, a testament to her long hours.
She tapped a slender finger against a patient's report, her brow furrowed in concentration.
The room itself was a testament to Dr. Hana's singular obsession. Dried mushrooms of various sizes and colors hung from the ceiling, casting intricate, dancing shadows. Shelves overflowed with jars containing pickled, powdered, and preserved fungi. Even the wallpaper sported a subtle, repeating pattern of tiny, stylized mushrooms. The air held a distinctly earthy, rich aroma that most would find overpowering, but Dr. Hana found was the most comfortable.
On her desk, a steaming bowl of mushroom soup sat beside a meticulously detailed sketch of a rare glowing fungus. Every few minutes, she'd pause her work, pick up a spoon, and sip the broth, her eyes closing in momentary bliss.
"Ah, perfection," She muttered. "Mom always did have a knack for soups."
A sharp knock echoed through the room.
"Come in!" Hana yelled without looking up, her pen already back to scribbling notes onto the margins of a diagram.
The door creaked open, revealing a young man standing just inside the doorway.
His clothes, though simple, looked travel-worn.
His gaze darting around the room, taking in the mushroom-themed decor with an open-mouthed astonishment. First, going to the ceiling full of dried mushrooms, then slowly looking at every mushroom item, and finally landing a long gaze at her.
The man hesitated, a quiet "Uh…" escaping his lips. He blinked, multiple times, clearly struggling to understand the amount of mushrooms around him.
After the initial shock wore off, he regained some composure.
The young man cleared his throat, stepping further into the room.
"Good morning, Dr. Hana. Sorry to disturb you. My name is Elias." He offered a small, somewhat hesitant smile. "I'm looking for work, and Madam Rosita mentioned you were looking for an assistant. If the position's still available, I'd be very interested."
Hana finally looked up, setting her pen down with a decisive thunk.
She studied him for a moment, taking in his appearance. He wasn't particularly imposing, but there was a certain... alertness in his eyes that she found interesting.
"Good morning, Elias," she replied, her voice crisp and professional. "Yes, I am looking for someone to assist me. My mother told me a little about you last night. But before I hire you, I need to ask you a few questions."
She leaned back in her chair, folding her hands neatly on the desk. "Let's start with a brief interview, shall we? I need to know more about your background."
Dr. Hana gestured towards a simple wooden chair opposite her desk. "Please, sit."
"Of course"
Once Elias settled, she began, her tone direct and to the point.
"Where are you from, originally?"
"A small village to the east," Elias answered, his gaze steady, "but my village was destroyed by a Crazy Beast attack."
"What's the village name? East of here is a big place, after all."
"It, um..." Elias's voice trailed off, as he seemed lost in thought. "It doesn't matter. It's gone now, so I'd rather not say," he continued.
Odd, Dr. Hana thought, but she pressed on. "Do you have any experience in the medical field?"
"Not formally," Elias admitted. "But I used to assist the healer in my village."
"Assisting how, carrying the patient?"
"Mixing herbs, preparing remedies, sometimes helping with minor injuries." He said in a more confident tone
Dr. Hana tapped a fingernail against the desk, considering.
Village healers were often surprisingly knowledgeable, despite their lack of formal training.
"And your family?" she inquired. "Where are they now?"
A shadow flickered across Elias's face, a fleeting moment of sadness, perhaps? "They... didn't survive the attack," he said, his voice slightly softer than before. "My parent...and my dog.." He continued, his gaze turned downwards
Dr. Hana felt a pang of sympathy, but she kept her expression neutral. "I'm sorry to hear that." She paused, then continued, "What was your last job?"
"I did odd jobs at a few general stores along the way to Glenwood," Elias replied.
"Odd jobs? Be more specific"
Elias paused, "I did some accounting, stocked shelves, managed inventory...whatever needed doing, really."
Finally, Dr. Hana asked, "Why did you choose Glenwood?"
"I heard it was a safe place," Elias explained, "and that the people here were kind."
Dr. Hana absorbed his answers, her gaze scrutinizing.
His responses were... vague. Too general.
There was a distinct lack of concrete detail, and the way he answered felt suspiciously careful, as if he was choosing his words with extreme caution or hiding the truth.
But, she reminded herself, it didn't really matter.
She wasn't looking for a confidant or a close friend.
She just needed someone to handle the mundane tasks around the clinic, someone to organize her supplies, someone who wouldn't faint at the sight of blood, and someone who didn't mind the smell of mushrooms.
As long as Elias could follow instructions and was willing to work hard, his past didn't really matter much.