Freepost

The walk the next morning was filled with palpable tension, and the silence between them was thick with unspoken words and lingering memories.
The forest path was bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun, the birdsong overhead a stark contrast to the quietude of their little group.
Each of them was lost in their thoughts, their bodies still humming with the echoes of the night before.

Feya's cheeks were tinged with a soft pink, her eyes cast downwards as she walked, her steps slightly hesitant.
She could still feel the ghost of Selene's mouth on her, the memory of her tongue sending a shiver down her spine.
She had enjoyed it, more than she thought she would, but the morning light brought with it a shyness that she couldn't shake off.

Selene, on the other hand, walked with a confident stride, her blue hair cascading down her back in waves.
She couldn't help but steal glances at her lovers, her mind replaying the events of the night before.
She could still taste Feya on her tongue and feel Emeryn's body pressed against hers.

Emeryn, meanwhile, was a picture of stoicism, her expression neutral, her steps measured.
But her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, her body still aching with a pleasant soreness.
She had enjoyed the night immensely, had reveled in the touch and taste of her lovers

The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity before Feya finally spoke up, her voice soft and shy.
"We're not talking about it...okay?" she said, her eyes flicking up to meet Selene's and Emeryn's briefly before flitting away again.

Selene and Emeryn exchanged a quick glance, a silent understanding passing between them.

"Yes," they both agreed, their voices barely more than whispers.

They walked on, their steps a little lighter, their minds still filled with memories of the night before, but their heart's content with the silent agreement.

After weeks of traveling through dangerous forests and battling numerous monsters, they were finally approaching Freepost.

Signs of civilization started to appear as they neared the outskirts of the village.

Emeryn was the first to spot it—a small, hopeful glimpse of structure amid the wilderness.

As they drew closer, a feeling of relief settled over the group; they had made it

Wooden walls rose up from the earth, rough-hewn and sturdy, as if they’d grown organically from the ground itself.

The towering ramparts were unlike any human-built fortifications she had seen.
Each log that made up the structure was carefully chosen and shaped, polished to a gleaming sheen that reflected the setting sun's light.

The logs were not stacked haphazardly like a crude palisade but interwoven with precision.
Delicate carvings adorned the tops of each beam, intricate patterns of leaves, vines, and twisting branches that seemed to grow out of the very wood.

At regular intervals, tall watchtowers rose from the walls.
Their spires were adorned with banners made from woven leaves, fluttering gently in the breeze, and small platforms that jutted out offered the guards a perfect vantage point to scan the surrounding wilderness.

The entire structure had the aura of a living thing, as though the walls themselves were breathing, guarding the village with the same quiet vigilance of the elves who lived within.

Emeryn’s steps quickened as the sight of the village brought a wave of comfort.

The last few weeks of travel had been hard on all of them, with the lingering memories of their encounter with the vine monster still fresh in their minds.

But they had made it through, and now, the safety of Freepost was within reach.
She could already see the gates of the village, crafted from the same living wood as the walls, standing tall before them.
The soft glow of lanterns illuminated the path ahead, and the sound of village life echoed faintly through the trees.

"Almost there," Emeryn said, her voice filled with a mix of relief and anticipation.

As they approached the gates of Freepost, Feya’s eyes softened with a deep sense of nostalgia, her elven heritage stirring within her. She marveled at the fusion of nature and architecture that the elves had cultivated here. The wooden walls surrounding the village were like living organisms, their bark textured and smooth, blending seamlessly with the trees they were built from. The village was a perfect blend of architecture and magic, with vines and ivy curling around the structures, connecting the homes and pathways in ways that felt both organic and enchanted.

Selene, trailing just behind, was equally enthralled by the magical energy that vibrated through the air.
Her witch's instinct to sense magical currents picked up on the subtle pulse of power emanating from the village itself.
She could feel that the very earth beneath her feet was imbued with enchantments.

She couldn’t wait to learn more, perhaps even delve into the elven magic that held this village together.

As they walked deeper into Freepost, Feya couldn’t help but wonder what life would be like here.
Living with so many of her Kind secluded from the World, just ,like her Ancestors.

As they neared the entrance to Freepost, the tension in the air was palpable.

Several elven archers stood atop the village's wooden walls, poised and alert.
They were draped in simple, yet striking, garments—leather and furs—designed for movement and to blend in with the wild surroundings.

Their keen eyes followed the group’s every move as they approached.
Each archer stood with an elegant yet ready stance, their bows drawn with precision, the arrows held steady but not yet knocked.

One of the archers, a tall elf with sharp features spoke.
Her voice was soft but commanding, and she asked in broken Common, clearly more comfortable with her native tongue, "What is your business?"

Emeryn, stepping forward with confidence, held up the quest paper they had received from the Guild.
"We’ve been asked to hunt a Minotaur," she said, her tone respectful.

The elf studied the parchment for a moment, her gaze flicking back and forth between Emeryn and the rest of the group, her expression unreadable.
There was a brief exchange of words in Elven among the archers, too quick for Emeryn to follow, but the sense of careful deliberation was clear.

After a moment, the elven archer nodded, her eyes sharp and calculating.
"The Minotaur is a threat," she said, her tone still cautious. "It’s been troubling the outskirts. Follow me. I will take you to the council."

She signaled for the other archers to lower their weapons, allowing the group to pass through the gates.

As they entered the gates, the group was immediately struck by the sight before them.

Freepost was a typical frontier village in its layout, with a central core surrounded by homes and smaller buildings.
The village was arranged in a broad, oval shape, and the heart of it all was the central square—where the most important buildings stood.
The homes and structures were arranged in a way that maximized defense: all the living spaces were built within the protection of the village’s high walls, while the farmland and less critical buildings were situated outside, **** but monitored.

These structures, however, were unlike the sturdy stone fortresses or simple wooden dwellings found in human settlements.
Here, the architecture blended seamlessly with the natural world.

Instead of the more rigid and practical designs one might find in a human frontier outpost, Freepost's buildings reflected a more primal aesthetic.
Many of the homes and structures were constructed with a combination of wood, stone, hay, and woven materials, blending together in a way that felt organic—like the village had grown naturally from the land itself.
Tents and woven shelters sat alongside sturdy wooden homes, with the rough-hewn stone used for foundations and hearths.

The roofs were often slanted, made from thatched hay and wooden shingles, giving the village a more rustic, earthy feel, and everywhere they looked, there were signs of the elves' ancient connection to the land.

In the center of it all stood the great council hall, its design more refined but still holding the same primal spirit, with tall, sweeping arches formed from living trees, their branches reaching up like protective arms.

“Amazing,” Selene exclaimed as she walked deeper into the village "It's as if the village had risen organically from the earth itself."

“Is this how the Wood Elves from Silvanor live?” she asked, taking in the structures and magic that adorned the village.
"I have never visited it but I read one time a Book about the Silvanor Forest"

The village leader chuckled at Selene’s question.
“This is nothing compared to the Silvanori towns,” she said proudly. "They practically are nature. Here in Freepost, we only try to live with nature, in harmony.”

Selene continued to marvel at the village, but as she walked further, she was pulled out of her thoughts by a quiet confusion that rippled through the group.

“Frethost,?” Feya thought, “I thought this place was called Freepost?”

The rest of the group looked at each other, surprised.
Indeed, the village name had been spoken several times already, but something didn’t add up.

Emeryn’s face flushed a deep shade of red as she realized what had happened. “Frethost?” she mumbled under her breath, turning her face away in embarrassment.
“Next time, I’ll read the quest paper more carefully…”

The Leader gave a gentle smile as she noticed the confusion on their faces, but her expression softened when she saw the redness creeping onto Emeryn's cheeks.
She didn’t comment on it, assuming it was just a passing moment.

"My name is Sylwa," she repeated, "I am the leader here and the shaman."

"Really?" Selene asked, her tone curious as she took over the conversation for the embarrassed Emeryn. "I thought an Elven adventurer was the leader. What was his name again? Arandil...?"

"Arandil is the leader here," Sylwa confirmed with a nod. "I am his wife, and he is currently away on a pilgrimage to Eldemar."

Emeryn's confidence grew as she spoke, feeling more at ease with the situation. "If he's away to Eldamar, the journey could be long," she mused, trying to piece together the timeline.
"Traveling from here to the old continents and coming back could take months" she raised her eyebrows "So the Minotaur probably spawned when your husband was already away?" she asked.

Sylwa nodded in agreement.

"That would be the case," she confirmed with a soft sigh. "The creature likely appeared during his absence, and no one else had the means to deal with it until now."

Emeryn then raised another question, a little more inquisitive. "But how can such an isolated village like this have contact with our guild by the sea?" she asked

Sylwa smiled knowingly, "My husband was one of the first Elven settlers of Nirathal," she began, "He was also a founder of a guild when he was young. That was around 247 years ago.
A long time, yes, but not so much for Elves."

The revelation hung in the air, and the group fell silent for a moment, taking in the weight of Sylwa's words.

"He always left me a bird messenger when he was away for long periods," she continued, her eyes distant for a brief moment as though recalling fond memories.
"It seemed that this Bird was meant to land in your guild"

"I never knew that one of our founders was an Elf," Selene said, her brow furrowing as she processed the news, "But with such bad bureaucracy as during the first settlements, it's no wonder that part of our history got buried."

“You’re right,” said Sylwa with a small smile. “Those early days were truly chaotic. And no, I wasn’t part of your guild; I was just an ordinary adventurer when I met Arandil.” She gave a soft, reminiscing sigh before returning to the present.

“But I think we need to focus on the minotaur situation,” she said, her tone turning serious.

“That’s the strange part,” replied Sylwa, the shaman, her brow furrowing in thought.
“We first encountered it just a few days after my husband’s departure. Naturally, we assumed it had spawned somewhere nearby, close enough to pose an immediate threat.
But when we sent scouts to search for its lair, they found nothing.
Then, just when we thought it might have moved on, another brave elf spotted it at a distance and tracked it quietly.
From what he reported, the minotaur is actually about two days’ journey from here on foot.”

“Weird,” muttered Selene, considering the situation carefully. “Minotaurs aren’t typically so loose with their territory. Have you encountered it often?”

“Not exactly,” Sylwa said, shaking her head. “There have only been a few run-ins, and while it showed aggression, it never hunted anyone.
It’s almost as if it has no interest in us specifically.”

“Don’t worry, Sylwa. We’ll kill that minotaur,” Emeryn said as she stood up, determination lighting her eyes. “Can you lead us to it?”

Sylwa nodded. “The elf who tracked it will guide you directly to its territory,” she said with a reassuring smile.

Emeryn smirked, her confidence infectious. “Perfect. Then could you set us up with beds and provisions for the night?”