Any attempts to remember the village was lost under the claiming disregard of childhood. Kenan had known he had been here, known that they stayed here for months on end, known he had been playmates with the blacksmith's son. But the actual experience had slipped away in increased acuity and filed away in barely touched nostalgia.

So for the most part. It was the first time he had seen the village. By all accounts, the bourg had grown and evolved. Far past its previous qualifications and into that of a town. Its name was only remembered by a few as Ascot. Its title was given long ago. Since then, it's been enough time for the royal charter to be lost and its name plundered of its originality. By the point of modern time, its monicker had only been Village for decades.

Kenan had understood there were twenty-foot walls made of solid rock and stone in different places. Such as the capital or other lands. But the tall wooden walls, stripped to points seemed so impossibly big and too dangerous to go near. Furthermore, there was a ditch dug five feet down and then a mound that went the same height.

As they closed in on the gate. Kenan’s excitement laced with intimidation seeped deeper. The doors were sinched shut. Up top guards stood tall. Green cloaks, steel helmets, and light leather garments. Short, double-sided swords hung to their waists and two had bows drawn.

“They should have the gates open.” Doco looked to the sky where the yellow-orange ball still hung in the air. “It’s only mid-day.”

“Something wrong, uncle?” Kenan asked. Fear blossomed into an unknowing foreboding.

Doco shrugged. “If there is, it’s not with you or me.” He stopped about thirty feet from the heavy wooden, metal-reinforced aperture and waited.

“Oi’ State your business!” One of the guards bellowed. Kenan couldn’t see which one had asked. Non-had moved or gave any notion they had talked.

“Coming for a his…” Doco nodded towards his nephew. “Mana-day. Can we come in?” The middle two guards, who held the bows, looked at each other.

“No one without official papers is allowed in. Referral from one of us burgmann, landowners, and or the kulaks is also acceptable.” Another guard said. They had a deeper baritone and a cleaner accent.

Doco frowned and glanced at Kenan. He opened his mouth to respond. Then a half-filled tankard barreled from places unseen. It struck the right middle guard with a bone-crunching force. The bow-wielder yelped, jerked his hands down, and accidentally fired the arrow. His squeal turned into a scream and the shaft sunk into his foot. The guard fell and hit the other bowman. Who also fired. The arrow went high into the air and vanished behind the sun.

“Would ye’ stop ye’ snobbern’ flanker shites’” A third voice yelled. A fifth guard appeared to the right. “Open the gates it's em’ family. You know. Doco an’kind.” He waved to Kenan and his uncle. “Sorry sirs.” The guard wavered. His stance flowed back and forth as he tried to reassert his balance.

“Thanks, Rufus,” Doco responded. His hands patted the air in a motion of de-escalation. “Don't be too hard on them, they were just doing their jobs.”

The two other guards, not entangled in a projectile cluster, marched down and began to open the doors. “Aye. I know. But I would think these idiots.” he gestured vaguely to the guards. “Would know their god-freaked snob’ savior!” Rufus yelled.

Doco laughed and started to traverse the gate. Kenan caught up. “Uncle. Was he… uh whiskyed?”

“Ha! Whiskyed is a way to put it. Aye, he was deep in the cups.” He shrugged. “Don’t think too deeply into it. It’s his magic to be drunk.”

Kenan wanted to ask other questions. His inquisitiveness was peeked and the guard's peculiar magic was the center of it. And then the wind swept away his curiosity like pollen on flowers. A smell of freshly baked bread with molten butter and honey crossed in. Its smell was addictive, but then cut off. Another soot wreathed scent replaced. Then another came, acrid and repugnant. A fourth furled out in a sweet succulent excellency.

All the other senses were afflicted with overload. Too many people talked at once, too many moved. The Village consisted of around six hundred people and to Kenan that was entirely too many. It was like the town roared and vibrated him from head to toe. He was excited and afraid. Nervous but also had an anticipation built inside.

“Oh, Ken.” His uncle said. “I wonder if you get a chance to see Gont.” Doco stared distantly into the town.

The Village was centered around a town square. The out most constructions were homes. Most were made of straw and timber. As they became more centered the wood was replaced with more solid stone and shingle. In the immediate buildings adjacent were a few merchant buildings, some guild halls, inns, and restaurants. Sprinkled in the jumble were the establishments that were required. Such as the blacksmiths, mill, and town hall. In rebellion with the flow, the burgmann barracks hugged the wooden spiked wall. While, arguably the most important building, was built a few blocks from the busy hub-bub. It was the Magia Coagulum.

It was dull. Small in everywhere. It looked like a well-kept outhouse. But the door was a little too big, and its hinges were clean steel instead of crude iron. Further, it had a sign that hung from the side that captured its namesake. That building was where they headed.

Doco continued to trod in that direction. Kenan was in a dazed stun and Jefned had the senses to continue the slow march. He took everything in. As much as he could and as fast as he could. He paid special attention to the green-cloaked guards. Something about them seemed so strong, unquestionably stalwart. Kenan was amazed at the few adventurers that he saw. With their strange armor and large weapons. Some of them wore only extravagant robes and carried long sticks. All of them frequented one of the guilds. The people themselves were special too. He saw a girl with black and white hair with mismatched eyes. Each lived in their own little timeline it was so fast that Kenan wondered how they even lived.

Then before he knew it. His horse stopped, hitched for him, and someone tugged him off the saddle. He stood now, in front of a simple but nice door. He looked at it and felt the rush of his blood. Kenan felt a coldness so deep that it was warm to spread from his heart and reach throughout his body. His eyes went from the sign to the door, to his uncle.

“You ready kid?”