Chapter 163 - The Story of Metal (1)

I didn't know how to respond without blowing my cover. We were inside a remote village, forgotten by the rulers in the capitol. I sighed since it appeared we wouldn't be receiving the points easily as I thought we would.

"We would like to keep our former identities as a secret for safety purposes," Luke softly warned.

Mill nodded his head. Instead of asking more questions, he started to introduce the other village children who came to visit. They came from the tales told by Olive last night about two young children living alone. They wore the same clothes like it was a uniform. It was ruffled and wrinkled unlike my clean dress, which was stored with multiple copies.

"Are you from a wealthy merchant family?" One of them asked.

"Yes, our family has connections to nobles," Luke politely smiled.

"No wonder, you seem more like nobles than people like us," Mill's friend commented.

"So what's the reason for your visit?" I led them into the house.

"Olive told us to come since she couldn't make it today. We're here to warn you about the upcoming rainfall predicted to become a flood," Mill explained.

"How do you know?" I wondered as I tiled my head.

"This village has a history of having a flood every twenty years."

I nodded my head as I thanked him for the warning. I never believed in something like a natural disaster to frequently repeat without no reason. There had to be a reason behind it.

"Where is Olive now?" I asked.

"She's helping with the family farm," Mill recalled.

"Then let's go visit her!" I clasped my hands together with joy.

Thankfully Olive's house wasn't as far as the village square. The others walked slowly to match my pace as we got to know each other.

"How have you been doing?" I asked on our way.

"The same as usual. Nothing had changed. Everything has been put to rest after you left," Mill vaguely answered.

It seemed Luke's fraction was good at covering things up. That mission didn't appear easy to accomplish when I participated in the talks of war before I left. I kicked a pebble in front of me as I pitied the rebels who couldn't change anything.

When I pushed my thoughts away, our group ended up on top of a hill which overlooked the large burrows of fruit trees below us. Olive held onto a straw basket as she plucked each apple from the tree. She was drenched in sweat, absorbed in her task as she didn't look up from the loud clattering.

"Olive!" I shouted as I ran down the hill.

"Why are you here?" Her eyes widened in surprise.

"We're here to visit," I grinned while twirling.

"Wait, I'm almost done," Olive sped up her movements.

Olive appeared a bit panicked as she started to quicken her movements. Instead of walking from tree to tree, she jogged. She shook the trees to harvest the fruits instead of picking them out one by one. The fruits landed on her soft basket with her great aim, making them unbruised.

I sat on a large piece of rock as I waited for her to finish filling up her last basket. She wiped drops of sweat off her forehead once she had carried the baskets into her house. She ran outside the doors as she searched to see if I was still waiting.

"Where are we going today?" I swung my feet.

"I'm not sure," Olive admitted as she shuffled her feet.

"How about we help someone else in the village today?" I suggested.

"What about the old widow? I'm sure that she'll need some help," Mill recommended.

I shrugged as I turned to Olive to make the final decision. Olive nodded her head as we walked toward a humble dwelling where ivories grew along the roof and walls. A narrow pathway was made by frequent footsteps where the grass did not touch my chest like the walls beside me. I knocked on the door to hear immediate weak footsteps coming closer.

The door opened to reveal an old woman in her late sixties walking with a cane. Her white hair is pulled into a bun as she glares at us, wondering why a group of kids would visit her house. She frowns and huffs before letting us inside where there weren't enough chairs for all of us.

"Why have you come visit an old widow like me?" She narrowed her eyes.

"We're here to repair your metal!" I saluted with a bright smile.

This was the time to introduce the slogan I have been repeating every time we helped someone. It was short and catchy like the marketing schemes in my former life.

"This junk is better to be thrown out," the widow glanced at a pile of old tools in the corner.

"What about this ring?" I picked up an old charm carefully displayed on the top of the cabinet.

The ring was old and rusty like all the other junk piled in the room. But it was strange how this one was separated from the others. It had to be something important as the widow frowned as I studied the ring.

"Can you really fix this?" The widow had a glimpse of hope in her eyes.

"Olive can!" I pushed Olive toward her.

Olive was too shy around the villagers she grew up with. Her eyes were almost always staring at the floor and her voice was soft. She only talks when someone asks her a question instead of initiating it.

"Then let me tell you a story of how this old widow chose to be alone," the widow looked out the window.