MTLNOVEL Chapter 6: Chapter 06
The gates of Magnolia creaked slightly as I stepped into the town, and I was immediately struck by the atmosphere. Unlike Shirotsume, which had been bustling yet felt steeped in wary whispers, Magnolia was alive with an almost contagious energy. The cobblestone streets were smoother here, bordered by colorful flower boxes on windowsills and banners fluttering in the breeze. The air smelled of baked goods and river water, mingling with the faint aroma of forge smoke from somewhere nearby.
Children raced by, laughing as they chased a stray dog, while a street performer juggled brightly colored balls to the delight of a gathered crowd. The sound of a lute drifted from an open tavern door, mingling with the lively chatter of its patrons. I took a deep breath, letting the sights, smells, and sounds of Magnolia envelop me. This was a town that thrived on life, on community, and on stories yet to be written.
I decided to explore.
My first stop was the market square. Stalls of every kind filled the space, their owners calling out to passersby with promises of the best goods in Magnolia. Fresh fruits glistened in the sunlight, their vibrant colors enticing. A baker displayed golden loaves and sweet pastries, the rich smell drawing a steady stream of customers. A blacksmith stood proudly beside racks of gleaming swords and tools, his muscular arms folded across his chest as he chatted with a potential buyer.
I paused at a stall selling finely woven fabrics and examined the intricate patterns. The merchant, a woman with kind eyes and calloused hands, looked up from her work. "You have an eye for quality," she said, gesturing to the fabric. "Imported from the eastern isles. Strong and light—perfect for travelers."
"I'm just admiring," I replied with a polite smile. "It's beautiful work."
She seemed satisfied with my response and returned to organizing her wares. I moved on, letting the energy of the market guide me.
As I wandered, I noticed a small shop tucked away from the main thoroughfare. Its wooden sign read "Enchanted Oddities," and curiosity compelled me to step inside. The air inside the shop was cool and slightly musty, filled with the faint hum of magic. Shelves were lined with trinkets and artifacts—rings that glowed faintly, amulets etched with runes, and vials of potions in every imaginable color.
An elderly man sat behind the counter, his long beard resting atop a book he appeared to be reading. He glanced up as I entered, his sharp eyes seeming to appraise me in an instant.
"New to town, are you?" he asked, his voice raspy yet warm.
I nodded. "Just arrived today. This place caught my eye."
He smiled faintly and set the book aside. "Then you've got a good instinct, traveler. My shop caters to those with… a taste for the unusual. Take a look around. Perhaps something will speak to you."
I spent a few minutes examining the items, fascinated by the array of enchanted goods. While I didn't purchase anything, the visit left me intrigued by the hidden depths of Magnolia and its people.
After leaving the shop, I wandered the streets once more, the energy of the town pulling me further into its heart. I followed the distant sound of cheers and laughter, which led me to a wide, open square where a crowd had gathered. The source of their excitement soon became clear—a man with a commanding presence stood at the center, regaling the onlookers with animated stories.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, with fiery orange hair and a rugged appearance that suggested he was no stranger to adventure. A heavy cloak, worn and patched but regal in its own way, hung from his shoulders. He laughed heartily as he waved a mug of ale in one hand, the other gesturing wildly to emphasize his tale.
The crowd roared with laughter at one of his remarks, and even I found myself smiling at his infectious energy. It wasn't just his stories that held the crowd's attention—it was him. He had an air of experience and warmth, like a seasoned traveler who had seen the world and yet found joy in the simplest moments.
A sharp whistle cut through the noise, and the man turned toward its source. A younger man jogged up, a look of mild exasperation on his face. "Gildarts," he called, "you're supposed to be at the guild meeting!"
Gildarts grinned and shrugged. "Ah, they can wait. Let them stew for a bit; it builds character!" The crowd laughed again, clearly accustomed to his antics.
As the young man dragged him away, Gildarts caught sight of me watching from the edge of the square. He paused, his eyes locking with mine for a brief moment. His expression shifted—curiosity flickered across his face, followed by a knowing smile.
With that, he allowed himself to be pulled away, leaving me standing there, caught off guard but undeniably intrigued.
Gildarts POV
As the younger guildmate dragged him away from the lively square, Gildarts' mind wandered back to the traveler who stood at the edge of the crowd, partially concealed in the shifting shadows of the afternoon sun. Something about the way the stranger carried himself tugged at his attention, like an itch he couldn't quite scratch. For all the bustling energy of Magnolia around him, that figure felt oddly detached, like the sole quiet note in an otherwise raucous symphony.
At first glance, the traveler's appearance had been unremarkable—weatherworn cloak, scuffed boots, the practical attire of a wanderer. Yet there was a deliberate, watchful stillness in the way he stood. Gildarts had spent a lifetime mastering the art of reading people, and this man didn't belong to any familiar category. He wasn't a merchant, nor a guild mage, nor even a hopeful adventurer. He seemed too grounded for a dreamer, too alert for a drifter.
Then there was the power. As Gildarts stepped further away, he felt it again, like the tail end of a warm breeze brushing against his senses. It was subtle but undeniable, unlike any aura he'd encountered before. The absence of ethernano around the traveler made the sensation all the more alien—more potent, even. It was as though the source of the energy rejected the natural currents of the magical world, existing entirely on its own terms.
"Something wrong, Gildarts?" the younger man grumbled, his grip tightening on Gildarts' arm as he struggled to pull him along.
"Wrong? No." Gildarts shook his head and smirked, regaining his footing. "Just someone interesting back there."
"You're always finding 'someone interesting,'" the guildmate muttered, exasperated. "And it always ends the same way—with you dragging us into trouble."
"Not trouble," Gildarts said, his tone breezy but his eyes still distant, locked on the mental image of the traveler. "This one feels different."
His companion groaned but didn't press further, likely used to Gildarts' whims and uncanny knack for stumbling across extraordinary people in the most ordinary of places.
As they walked, Gildarts let his thoughts wander. He had encountered powerful mages before—some radiating an overwhelming might that demanded respect, others emanating subtle intricacies of skill that invited curiosity. But this power wasn't born of the magical world he knew. It didn't dance on the surface, begging to be noticed. Instead, it loomed like a deep, slumbering giant—contained, but with an intensity that hinted it could shatter its bindings if provoked.
Gildarts' grin widened, but his gaze sharpened, transforming the roguish humor in his expression into something almost predatory. "I've seen a lot of things in my time," he muttered, mostly to himself. "But this? This is going to be fun."