Lanafit had actually prepared this explanation in advance, but even so, after hearing her speak, the village chief’s gaze carried a hint of suspicion as he scrutinized her.
“Forgive my boldness, Your Excellency the Mage. It’s not that I doubt your identity—but strange things have been happening in the forest these past few days, and it’s made life uneasy even for small villages like ours. So, would Your Excellency mind proving that you are indeed a magician?”
The words sounded harmless enough—he was simply asking Lanafit to demonstrate a bit of magic—but the underlying probe was quite subtle.
After all, magicians in this world were typically nobles held in high esteem.
Lanafit’s clothing, while not identifiable in terms of fabric, was clearly far beyond the rough linen worn by the villagers.
Combined with her striking appearance, it was highly likely she was some noble from elsewhere.
But the village chief was careful in his probing.
If Lanafit arrogantly refused to demonstrate her magic, it would indicate a high likelihood that she was a noble—after all, nobles were famously prideful.
Why would someone of high status perform magic at the request of a mere commoner?
In that case, the village chief would simply need to apologize profusely.
If necessary, offer a bit of compensation—after all, he’d lived long enough to know how to curry favor with the upper class.
If Lanafit obediently—or even reluctantly—displayed some magic, she was likely a commoner.
A rare one, yes, but still not a noble.
In either case, her identity would be confirmed as legitimate.
But there was one more possibility.
If Lanafit showed even the slightest trace of panic in her eyes—that would mean there was a problem with her identity.
Her beauty was exceptional—perhaps even too exceptional.
The village chief’s first thought was that she might be some noble’s concubine or slave who had stolen clothes and escaped.
If that were true, keeping her in the village could spell disaster once that noble found out.
That was the first possibility.
The second was even more terrifying.
In recent years, there had been several rebel uprisings within the Haid Empire.
If she was some kind of spy or operative, the consequences could be dire.
Her target was likely the forest, not their backwater village.
But whether it was the “miracle” in the forest or those imperial officials “farming” there, no one could say for sure.
If Lanafit was a rebel agent and the village knowingly harbored her, the entire village—dozens of families—would be executed.
The old village chief may have never received a formal education, but his decades of life experience were not to be underestimated.
There was a reason he held his position.
But Lanafit didn’t pick up on any of this subtlety.
She found the request entirely reasonable.
After all, she had no documents to prove her identity.
She’d just shown up, said she wanted to find work, and even asked to stay a few days.
Any normal person would find that suspicious.
Since they wanted to see her magic, she might as well oblige.
Raising her empty left hand, palm facing upward, Lanafit summoned a small orb of ice that began to take shape.
It slowly transformed into a delicate ice rose—one of her favorite and first-learned spells.
Not only was it powerful, but also quite pleasing to the eye.
“Well? Is this enough to prove I’m a magician?”
Lanafit looked toward the village chief and asked, only to find him frozen in place, stunned.
“Village Chief? Chief? Are you alright?”
Puzzled by his reaction, Lanafit didn’t know what to do next.
In her mind, she figured she’d passed the “interview,” right?
What she didn’t know was the storm raging inside the supposedly “worldly-wise” village chief.
In this world, magicians were few and far between, but everyone shared one common understanding about magic:
The stronger the magician, the more refined and versatile their magic became—not just in destructive power, but in magical control and finesse.
Great magicians could cast spells that were elegant and ever-changing.
It was said that the Haid Empire’s number-one mage, Commander of the Mage Corps Reoben Friedrich, could transform his fire magic into a colossal dragon, capable of decimating thousands of enemies.
And that was just the start.
The dragon could be reshaped at will, adapting to various terrains and situations.
Now—what about the ice rose held by the beautiful girl before him?
It might not compare in size or destructive force to a flaming dragon, but its craftsmanship was too perfect.
Every petal was thin and delicate.
Under the sunlight, even the veins of each petal were visible.
Most astonishingly, the rose was still blooming before his eyes—petal by petal—at a pace visible to the naked eye.
One could even vaguely make out the stamen hidden within the petals.
It was like a real flower blooming—only transparent and colorless.
Who exactly was this girl named Lanafit?
The village chief felt a wave of terror.
Whether or not she was suspicious no longer mattered.
Because clearly—this young lady was far more dangerous than any imperial officer “tilling the fields” in the forest.
Even if she was some kind of operative or schemer, if they reported her and she got angry, she could probably wipe out the entire village with a flick of her finger.
“Village Chief? Hey, Village Chief, are you alright?”
Startled by the shaking of his shoulders, the old man snapped back to reality—only to find Lanafit staring at him with concern, her hand still gently placed on his shoulder.
That alone nearly made him jump three meters back—despite normally needing a cane just to walk.
Lanafit was completely dumbfounded.
She thought, This village chief looks elderly and frail, barely able to walk… but physically?
Wow.
That jump just now?
He could’ve gone from the first floor straight to the second.
A master, for sure.
Lanafit was utterly shocked inside.
She hadn’t expected that even in such a seemingly unimpressive backwater village, an old man in his twilight years could have such athletic prowess.
Truly, this is a world of swords and magic.
I’ve really underestimated it.