The villagers had insisted upon seeing them off.
Men who had once feared every passing Imperial patrol now stood proudly outside their homes. Women carried baskets filled with fresh bread, dried fruit, and smoked fish despite Harry repeatedly assuring them that he already possessed more food than the three of them could possibly consume. Children crowded together near the edge of the village, whispering excitedly among themselves as they waited for one final glimpse of the mage who had changed their lives forever.
Harry stood quietly at the northern edge of the settlement, smiling warmly at the people gathered around him.
His belongings appeared almost laughably few.
Mella stood beside him, gripping the staff Harry had crafted for her only days before. The yellow Eldunarí set into its head gleamed softly as though greeting the sunrise. Unlike when she had first begun learning magic, she now carried herself with considerably more confidence. There was still much for her to learn, but each passing day made her movements steadier and her magic more controlled.
Arya looked between the two of them before lowering her gaze to Harry's side bag.
Her own equipment consisted of far more than his.
Her bow rested comfortably across her back, a full quiver hung over one shoulder, and a beautifully crafted elven dagger remained secured at her waist. A bedroll and a small pack completed her equipment.
She frowned.
"...That's all you're bringing?"
Harry looked down at the bag as though noticing it for the first time.
"I already have everything I need."
Mella couldn't suppress a quiet laugh.
"You'll understand eventually."
"I've been hearing that sentence rather often since meeting the two of you."
Harry merely chuckled.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Before the journey began, Harry crouched and placed the trunk carefully upon the ground.
He opened it without ceremony.
Instead of placing supplies inside, however, he reached for something resting beside him.
His own magic staff.
Arya watched curiously as Harry placed it inside the trunk before shutting the lid with a soft click.
She frowned again.
"I thought you needed that."
Harry looked up.
"My staff?"
"To use magic."
"Oh."
He smiled.
"I don't."
Arya blinked.
"You don't?"
Harry shook his head. He rested one hand atop the trunk.
"The staff was never made for me."
"Then why create it?"
"It was an experiment."
Harry noticed the expression on her face and patiently explained.
"When I first began teaching Mella, I wondered whether an Eldunarí could be embedded into another magical focus instead of simply being carried."
He looked toward his apprentice.
"So I made one."
Mella lifted her staff proudly.
"It works wonderfully."
Harry nodded.
"The Eldunarí naturally amplifies magical energy."
"If it becomes part of a focus..."
He smiled.
"...then even someone inexperienced can channel magic with much greater control."
Arya slowly examined the yellow gem resting within the carved wood.
"So the staff was never necessary."
"It simply makes learning easier."
"Exactly."
Harry lightly tapped the side of his head.
"My own focus has always been here."
Arya stared at him for another moment before slowly shaking her head.
"Every answer somehow raises two more questions."
"That tends to happen."
Before leaving, Harry knelt once more and opened the trunk again.
"Lily."
"Norberta."
A moment later, Lily emerged first from the sky.
The great white dragon unfolded herself gracefully before stepping onto the grass. Morning light shimmered across her immaculate scales as she stretched her neck high into the air, releasing a satisfied rumble that echoed throughout the valley.
Norberta climbed down immediately afterward.
Unlike Lily's graceful movements, the black dragon emerged with obvious reluctance, muttering complaints through their bond before shaking herself vigorously.
Her dark scales reflected the sunrise with an almost metallic sheen.
Despite having seen them several times already, Arya found herself staring.
Beside Mella, Thunder chirped happily.
The little golden dragon leapt from her shoulder, landed upon the grass, then immediately spread his tiny wings before hopping excitedly toward Lily.
Unlike the two larger dragons, Thunder had no concept of caution.
Everything fascinated him.
Harry glanced toward the brightening sky.
"We'll be traveling through territory we know very little about."
Lily immediately understood.
Her large blue eyes settled upon him.
"You want us inside."
Harry reached forward and gently scratched beneath her jaw.
"Only while we're close to civilization."
"We don't know who might see us."
"There may still be Imperial patrols."
"Or perhaps even Riders."
Lily lowered her head slightly.
"I dislike the trunk."
"I know."
"We'll let all of you out every evening."
Norberta snorted loudly.
"You always say that."
Harry smiled.
"And have I ever failed to keep that promise?"
The black dragon considered the question before releasing another annoyed rumble.
"No."
"Exactly."
Arya couldn't stop smiling.
Watching Harry argue with dragons as though they were stubborn relatives remained one of the strangest experiences of her life.
Lily finally nudged Harry's shoulder affectionately before reluctantly climbing back inside the trunk.
Norberta followed much more dramatically, grumbling the entire time.
Thunder looked horrified.
His tiny golden eyes darted between the trunk and Mella.
"I too?"
Mella knelt beside him.
"Only until tonight."
"You'll be able to hunt then."
Thunder tilted his head.
"Hunt?"
"Yes."
"You'll like it."
The little dragon thought about that for several long seconds before sighing dramatically in a way that looked remarkably similar to Norberta.
He climbed into the trunk.
Harry closed the lid.
Arya stared openly.
"...There are three dragons inside."
Harry nodded.
"In that?"
"Yes."
She circled the trunk once before finally stopping.
"I don't think I'll ever become accustomed to your magic."
Harry shrugged.
"It is convenient."
"Convenient," Arya repeated incredulously.
Old Tomas stepped forward carrying a basket overflowing with fresh bread.
"My Lord..."
Harry smiled.
"I truly don't need—"
"I know."
The old man pushed the basket into Harry's hands anyway.
"But you'll take it because my wife will scold me if you don't."
Several villagers laughed knowingly.
Harry surrendered immediately.
"In that case..."
He accepted the basket.
"...please thank her for me."
The old man grinned.
One after another, villagers stepped forward.
Some offered blessings.
Others simply shook Harry's hand.
Several children hugged Mella before wishing Thunder a safe journey despite the dragon now being hidden inside the trunk.
Arya watched every exchange quietly.
These people truly loved him.
She had witnessed many receiving grander farewells.
None had felt as genuine as this.
Finally, Harry adjusted the side bag over his shoulder.
"I suppose we'd better start walking."
The village elder nodded.
"The road ahead is long."
Harry smiled.
"It usually is."
With that, the three travelers left the hidden village behind.
As they disappeared beneath the towering trees, dozens of villagers remained standing at the edge of the settlement, watching until even Harry's white cloak vanished among the forest.
Only then did they quietly return to their daily lives.
For several hours, they walked in comfortable silence.
Morning sunlight filtered through the dense canopy overhead, painting shifting patterns across the forest floor as birds sang from branches high above. The forest itself seemed untouched by civilization.
Harry had warned them beforehand.
"There isn't a proper path where we're going."
"So we'll make one."
Arya quickly realized he had meant exactly that.
Whenever thick undergrowth blocked their way, Harry casually waved a hand.
Bushes bent aside.
Branches lifted themselves.
Vines untangled.
A clear path quietly appeared before them without harming the forest itself.
It felt less like forcing nature aside...
And more like asking permission.
After several hours, Arya finally asked the question that had been bothering her since they left.
"How long will this journey take?"
Harry looked thoughtfully toward the horizon.
"If everything goes well..."
He smiled.
"...couple of weeks."
Arya raised an eyebrow.
"Weeks?"
"There are faster methods."
"But I'd rather not use them."
"Why?"
Harry looked toward Mella.
"Because journeys are valuable."
Mella nodded immediately.
"They're where most of the learning happens."
Arya looked unconvinced.
Harry smiled.
"You'll see."
She wasn't entirely certain what that meant. But after everything else she had witnessed.She had learned that when Harry smiled like that...
There was usually a lesson waiting somewhere ahead.
The days settled into a comfortable rhythm.
Unlike Arya's travels as an ambassador of the elves, where every destination had a fixed deadline and every hour carried the weight of responsibility, this journey felt... unhurried.
Harry never rushed. He seemed perfectly content to let the road dictate their pace. If they reached a beautiful clearing, they stopped for lunch.
If Mella discovered an unfamiliar flower, Harry would kneel beside her and spend several minutes explaining its properties.
If Arya noticed an unusual animal track crossing their path, Harry showed genuine curiosity, asking questions rather than pretending to know everything.
It was a strangely peaceful way to travel.
After several days, Arya found herself enjoying it far more than she had expected.
She had spent most of her life moving from one mission to another, always carrying the expectations of Queen Islanzadí and the Varden upon her shoulders. There had never been time to simply... walk.
The forests gradually changed around them.
Towering pines slowly gave way to ancient oaks whose broad branches spread like great green roofs above the woodland. Small streams crossed their path every few hours, forcing them to leap over smooth stones or fallen logs, while birds of every imaginable color darted between the trees.
Sometimes they passed herds of deer grazing peacefully in distant meadows.
Once they spotted a family of wild boars crossing a muddy clearing.
On another morning, a magnificent golden eagle circled high overhead for nearly an hour before finally disappearing into the mountains.
Arya found herself breathing easier with every passing day.
Food, surprisingly, was never a concern.
On the first evening after leaving the hidden village, Harry had simply placed his trunk upon the ground and opened it.
Arya expected him to remove dried rations.
Perhaps smoked meat.
Instead...
He began producing ingredients as though he had walked into the finest market in Alagaësia.
Fresh vegetables.
Perfectly preserved fruit.
Several cuts of venison.
Bread that was still warm.
Butter.
Cheese.
Jars filled with herbs and spices whose aroma immediately filled the evening air.
Arya stared openly.
"...How?"
Harry looked genuinely puzzled.
"What?"
"Your food."
"It should have spoiled weeks ago."
"Oh."
He smiled.
"The trunk keeps everything exactly as it was when I stored it."
Arya blinked.
"...Everything?"
He casually reached back inside.
"I almost forgot dessert."
He produced an entire apple pie.
Steam drifted lazily from its golden crust.
Arya simply closed her eyes for a moment.
"I've stopped trying to understand."
Harry laughed.
"That's probably wise."
Mella giggled beside him.
"I reached that conclusion long ago."
Every evening became much the same.
Harry cooked because, as he insisted repeatedly, cooking was relaxing.
Arya quickly learned that Harry enjoyed preparing meals almost as much as eating them.
He seasoned everything carefully.
Cooked over ordinary fires despite being perfectly capable of conjuring magical flames.
And refused to hurry.
"A good meal," he explained one evening while stirring a pot of venison stew, "deserves patience."
Arya had never considered food particularly important.
After tasting Harry's cooking...
She began reconsidering that opinion.
Their lessons also continued.
Harry had warned Mella before they even left the village.
"Travel is not a holiday."
"It simply changes the classroom."
True to his word, every afternoon, once they had walked far enough for the day, lessons resumed.
Harry would clear a small area of ground while Mella fetched several stones to serve as practice targets.
Then the familiar instruction echoed through the forest.
"Again."
Mella groaned dramatically.
"I knew you were going to say that."
Harry folded his arms.
"Of course."
"You've said it every day since we met."
"And I'll probably keep saying it."
She rolled her eyes.
"I was hoping travel would make you less strict."
"It hasn't."
Arya, who usually sat nearby cleaning her bow or sharpening her arrows, couldn't help smiling.
Watching the two of them argue had become strangely entertaining.
Despite Harry's strictness during lessons, there was never any cruelty in his voice.
He corrected mistakes patiently. Explained theories repeatedly. Never mocked failure.
Instead, he simply expected effort.
Eventually, curiosity overcame Arya.
One afternoon, after watching Mella spend nearly an hour learning how to manipulate streams of water without speaking the Ancient Language, she finally spoke.
"...Would you teach me as well?"
Both Harry and Mella looked at her.
Harry smiled.
"You want to learn?"
Arya shrugged, slightly embarrassed.
"I don't know whether I'll ever use it."
"But..."
She looked toward the water dancing effortlessly around Mella's hands.
"...I'd like to understand."
Harry nodded immediately.
"Then you're welcome to join."
Arya expected weeks of preparation.
Instead, Harry handed her an ordinary pebble.
"Lift it."
She frowned.
"That's all?"
"For now."
She stared at the stone for several seconds before attempting exactly what she had seen Mella doing.
Nothing happened.
Harry smiled patiently.
"Again."
Arya sighed.
"Now you sound like yourself."
"I know."
Several attempts later...
The pebble trembled.
Then slowly lifted into the air.
Arya blinked.
"I..."
"It worked."
"It did."
Harry looked genuinely pleased.
"Again."
Mella burst into laughter.
"You really can't stop saying it."
"No."
Harry admitted cheerfully.
"I can't."
As the days passed, Arya discovered something unexpected.
She could perform magic. She learned to levitate small stones. Light campfires. Purify drinking water. Create simple protective wards around their campsite.
Unlike traditional spellcasting, none of it required speaking in the Ancient Language.
Everything she had believed about magic...
Everything she had learned from the elves...
Harry quietly overturned it.
Yet...
After several more days, she realized something equally important.
She simply wasn't enjoying it.
She could do it. But every lesson left her glancing toward her bow resting against a nearby tree.
Harry noticed long before she admitted it.
One afternoon, while Mella happily practiced shaping streams of water into floating spheres, Harry quietly walked over to Arya.
"You'd rather be shooting arrows."
She looked away.
"...Is it that obvious?"
"Yes."
Arya sighed.
"I feel guilty."
"Why?"
"You've spent so much time teaching me."
"And?"
"I don't think magic suits me."
Harry laughed softly.
"That's perfectly alright."
She looked up.
"It is?"
"Of course."
He picked up her bow and offered it to her.
"Not everyone needs to become a scholar."
"Some people were born to fight."
Arya accepted the bow almost instinctively.
The familiar weight immediately felt comfortable in her hands.
Harry continued.
"You've spent decades mastering archery."
"Swordsmanship."
"Movement."
"I'm not going to ask you to abandon all of that simply because I happen to enjoy magic."
Arya visibly relaxed.
"My greatest strengths have always been my blade and my bow."
Harry smiled.
"Then teach me."
Arya stared.
"You?"
"I've never received proper training."
She blinked in disbelief.
"...You're serious."
"Completely."
Mella looked between them.
"Oh..."
"This should be interesting."
From that day onward, their days changed.
Arya proved every bit as demanding a teacher as Harry.
"Stand properly."
Harry adjusted his stance.
"No."
She walked behind him and nudged one foot several inches to the side.
"There."
"Relax your shoulders."
"You grip the bow too tightly."
Harry obeyed every instruction without complaint.
Mella watched eagerly from nearby.
"Now..."
Arya said.
"Loose."
Harry released the arrow.
It sailed gracefully through the air...
And landed several meters to the left of the target.
Then another arrow flew.
This one landed short.
The third somehow missed the tree entirely.
Mella collapsed onto the grass laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
"I thought..."
She struggled to speak between laughs.
"...I thought you were amazing at everything!"
Harry scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
"I never claimed that."
Arya lowered her bow.
"I've seen children shoot better."
"Thank you."
"That's not a compliment."
Several more arrows followed.
None reached the center.
Eventually Harry lowered the bow with a resigned sigh.
"I admit defeat."
Arya smiled.
"Again."
Harry looked at her.
"You sound exactly like me."
"It means I'm learning something from you."
Even Harry couldn't help laughing.
Several days later, Arya finally asked the question that had been bothering her.
"If your archery is this poor..."
She gestured toward the target.
"...how do you fight?"
Harry smiled mysteriously.
"I'll show you."
He walked beneath a large oak tree whose branches were covered with hundreds of fallen leaves.
Raising one hand, he closed his eyes briefly.
Immediately, every leaf lying upon the forest floor rose silently into the air.
Hundreds of them.
They circled around him like a tiny storm.
Arya frowned.
"What are you—"
The leaves changed. Their shapes elongated. Edges sharpened. Stems hardened.
Within seconds...
Every leaf had transformed into a perfectly balanced wooden arrow.
Hundreds of arrows floated around Harry.
He casually flicked two fingers.
The entire storm exploded forward.
The air screamed.
The arrows struck the distant tree almost simultaneously.
Leaves rained down around the impact.
When the echoes finally faded...
The enormous tree looked like an enormous hedgehog.
Not a single arrow had missed.
Arya stared.
Then slowly looked toward the bow still resting in Harry's hand.
"...I withdraw my earlier criticism."
Harry laughed.
"My archery truly is terrible."
Arya gestured toward the devastated tree.
"You call that terrible?"
"Without magic..."
Harry shrugged.
"I couldn't hit it."
"With magic..."
He smiled sheepishly.
"...aim becomes rather optional."
Mella giggled.
"I think that's cheating."
"It absolutely is."
None of them argued.
Even Arya had to admit...
It was remarkably effective.