Eyes Are Everywhere

I have to continue my magic training. I'm not going outdoors today after I get bread from Colbert. I will look at my window every couple of minutes and try to conceal my magic to the lowest minimum that I can. I can't slip up now. I'm certain he knows, but just in case.

He began reading up on the books Ino sent him. The foundations of magic, it was called. It explained exactly what Sorin has been practising: how everyone technically has magic, but only some can activate their inner potential. Those are mages. But everything was made up of magic, so it can be said that even a normal person could be somehow manipulated internally to become a mage.

This study session lasted five hours. It was near closing time at the bakery. would be considered midday, but for a bakery, that's basically enough for the day, as everyone buys in the morning.

Sorin made a precaution before exiting; he wrapped up his staff, making sure it would be concealed. A little bit of fire would be enough to blow it free in case of an emergency.

When he went outside. Everyone was staring at him for some reason. “Odd,” he muttered. The north section was the food market. It was his target. The Farmouth Bakery.

Walking through the streets today, however, people were staring; his magic was sensing eyes everywhere. They weren't malicious in intent, just curiosity and scepticism. Each time he passed someone, they would mutter to each other a couple of cryptic words in secret before turning away again.

I'm the main talk for today. Let me deduce. It's safe to assume that they heard about my actions with the east soldier. Maybe they assumed instantly it was me since I'm the only mage. Second, they are accusing me of escalating the situation or, even worse, they are plotting against me. All I know is that I'm not trusted, Claya only.

As he reached the north side of the village, he walked off the main road into a small cozy shop with an old man and woman at the very front as usual. Both were as short as the counter, and both were grey-haired to the brim. Aged marks riddled around them, and they wore a lime apron with white clothing.

“Hey old man. " I'm here for some fresh bread if you got some of that in stock left.” Sorin walked up to the counter, leaning over it casually. This was one of the most trusted people for him besides Claya and Vanir.

Colbert nodded. “Saved just for you, like usual.” He walked to the back of the bakery as his wife. Also referred to as Ms. Colbert, stepped up with a skeptical face.

“So— I want to know if it's really true. You're the hero?” Her voice was weak, almost frightened at such a question. Sorin could only freeze up and stare at her in disbelief.

This… is beyond anything I could have thought up. This isn't possible. Nothing would lead them this deeply!

“...”

Ms. Colbert continued, “Please just tell us the truth. I have seen you three months getting fresh slices of bread from me at this time. Just don't have a regret later on.”

Sorin leaned further against the counter, his fists bawled up.

This isn't possible. No, figure it out, Sorin; there isn't enough time to start panicking. The only conclusion is that the agent had to be involved. What could I have done to trigger suspicion from the man this morning?

He reimagines the scene in his mind. There was only one subtle hint that could point towards him, but it made sense.

My hand was ready to reach for something. It was always weirdly placed for someone just talking. It's such a small detail, but for someone like that, then again it would mean he would spread it on that hunch. The follow-up question then, my origin, must have added everything up. I have to assume this guy has access to a network from the east. Adding up my disappearance and my arrival here close together is also a clue. It's all connected to me.

Sorin was in a frenzy; he didn't even remember to reply to Ms. Colbert. He took in a couple of deep breaths. He settled himself back into the present moment, unfolding his hands from shock.

I have to reply. Could I admit it right now? I have to; I can't lie to someone like this. Not to someone who so kindly even saved bread for me specifically. I have to say it.

“That's right, Ms. Colbert. I am— Sorin.” his voice instantly shut itself off after that. Ms Colbert gave back a fearful look but tried to contain herself.

She took a step back. “You killed people. Haven't you?”

“I have not. You don't need to understand, but I promise I haven't done such things you heard rumours about. I have been here three months, and nothing has gone wrong.”

A loaf of bread from behind Ms Colbert appeared; her husband stared back at Sorin in silence. His expression was solemn. “Take it for free. You're going to need some food to get you out of here.”

“But honey… Do you really trust this man?” Ms Colbert stood beside him with shock; it was rather surprising that he even offered bread for free.

He just nodded seriously, staring into Sorin. “You served this village for three months; you have gained my trust. Now take it and get out of here.”

“I can't do that. I have to protect his place.” Sorin stated firmly.

Colbert nodded back. “So they will finally use those soldiers on us, take over a neutral village. It's not like the chief didn’t predict this. But do not take yourself to death for us. We will not let Farmouth down ourselves.” His fingers pointed towards the door of the bakery where a tall, imposing man stood.

“I will keep that in mind, old man. Stay safe the next couple of days.” Turning himself around, he saw it. The psyche of a marble statue. A tail that didn't swoosh once or portray any emotions and a piercing stare straight into him.

He took two steps forward. “Come with me then, hero.” His voice vibrated Sorin's body into a corpse of fear. “I will not delay any further the talk we must have.” his hands were balled up, not out of rage but necessity. He was ready to take down Sorin here and now.

Sorin took a look up at his face. Black eyes, Grey hair in the style of a wolf cut. This was definitely Claya's father; they were strikingly similar. Sorin moved forward, nodding off to the colberts before standing beside the chief. "I'm not planning to run away.”