The vines parted as I stepped into the village clearing.
Several huts made of bark and woven leaves formed a loose circle around a central totem, an ancient wooden pillar carved with spiraling patterns.
Its glow was faint, flickering like a dying ember. The humid air pulsed with an almost tangible pressure.
The priestess hurried ahead of me.
"Please, over here!"
Her light footsteps barely disturbed the moss. The ranger followed behind me, silent and vigilant.
The moment the villagers noticed our arrival, whispers rippled through the clearing.
Hope. Fear. Suspicion.
These were the emotions all of them were throwing my way.
A small group gathered near the totem. An elderly shaman, with her back bent and slightly hunched, stepped forward then greeted:
"So the Crown sends a noble to judge our fate. You have our gratitude… and our burden."
Straight to the point.
I clasped my hands behind my back, playing the role expected of me.
