Poor mutt. That was the extent of a goodbye Ivan could afford to the animal. Even now, Ivan grumbled at his misfortune for having fallen for the age-old trick. The purported map he had purchased to some local ruins had merely gotten him waylaid en-route by the merchant's real affiliation. Though the bandits were not particularly skilled, they still outnumbered a party of one, and Ivan had not survived this long without the ability to gauge the situation. When a lucky shot nailed his horse, he had to abandon the creature and the packs it had been carrying.

Such was the nature of exploration. There were dangers abound in the backwoods, and sacrifices had to be made. It was also why Ivan never named any of his animals. They invariably didn't get to stick around. The horse served a purpose in his travels, and he had simply traded it for the chance to keep living.

When the dirt road began to widen beneath his steps, Ivan smiled. The change in the road meant he was near a town. Taxes paid for roads in the kingdom, but there was a lot of road. Common trade routes and larger cities garnered an obvious priority over inconvenient back roads in the middle of nowhere.

It wasn't the first time that Ivan had wandered the countryside with almost nothing. He had the clothes on his back, a couple days of foodstuffs, and even a few weapons and tools, which was a sight better than how he had begun his career. The adventurer's guild would gladly outfit him, and the bank held some of his belongings, but it would be a while before he could reach the city. In the meantime, he really wanted a bath. He wanted to wash off the stink of that encounter and start the next day fresh. Albeit without a horse.

Ivan reached the town near sundown. People were still out and about, and they greeted him with cheerful waves and smiles. Ivan felt awkward returning the waves, but he always tried his best to adopt the local customs. It helped avoid unpleasantness. He found the inn pretty easily as it was the first bustling establishment on the main road.

From behind the counter, a stout middle-aged woman waved at Ivan. As he approached the counter, the innkeeper smiled in greeting. "Welcome and good eve, friend. What can we do for you today?"

Having begun with an embarassing croak, Ivan hurriedly cleared his throat and started over. "Greetings, madam. I am hoping to exchange some of my wares for a bed for the night." After waiting for her nod, he dumped the contents of his knapsack onto the counter in front of her. He spread out the items with his hand and asked, "Is there anything that might interest you?" He moved his satchel to the side to let her have a clear look.

There were a few items of dubious nature that might have been iron, yet she passed over them and pointed toward a scrap of paper sticking out of the bag. "What is this?"

"To be honest, I'd quite forgotten about it. It is a map to purported ruins somewhere west of here," Ivan said, gesturing in some vague direction of where he'd come. The innkeeper smoothed out the map as he spoke. For whatever reason, Ivan had more morals than the swindler and his cohorts, so he had to explain what had befallen him instead of trying to pass off the map as good. "But the person I got it from seems to have been of the shady sort, since I met with an ambush." Since the map was open, he indicated the chokepoint in the mountain path that had been so cleverly left out. He surmised, "I wouldn't put much stock in the ruins actually existing, let alone having anything of value left."

The woman pulled out a notepad from a pocket in her apron. After flipping to a blank page, she jotted some notes. Out of politeness, Ivan tried to avoid reading from the other side of the counter. "It's garbage. Probably just a fake," he said and shrugged.

The innkeeper rolled up the map. "Oh, it's not for a treasure seeker. This will be a fine addition for our library." Noticing his confusion, she explained, "This map is a representation of what could be out there. Whether someone gains an interest in cartography or uses it to seek possible ruins or to join the bandits, that is for them to decide." The innkeeper held out her hand for a shake. "We can offer you a change of clothes and a bed for the night here, though the room is not quite ready yet."

Ivan was confused both by her explanation and by her interest in junk. He could return to the ruins since he knew the path there, so the map was worthless to him. Ivan clasped her hand with his own and confirmed the deal. In his eyes, he had made a good trade, and he had already relieved his conscience by telling her about the ambush. The innkeeper suggested having a stroll around town and without waiting for his answer, called for someone. Although Ivan didn't really want to walk any further, he didn't want to offend the lady when he felt he had gotten the better end of the bargain. He wasn't tired yet, and he had to wait for the room anyway.

His guide was young and pretty. She had a name, which Ivan heard when the innkeeper introduced them, but he had promptly forgotten it. The girl immediately started chattering away. Ivan didn't really know how to respond, so he just let her continue. He listened with half an ear as she pointed out this and that along the road. Since he didn't intend to stay long, knowing where the local storytelling contest was held was not important.

They had about reached the end of the main road, and his guide pointed at the large building in front of them. The mantle above the doorway read: PRO SCIENTIA ATQUE SAPIENTIA.

Ivan frowned. He knew what language it was, but didn't understand it.

"I thought you were an explorer," she teased, giggling.

Ivan shrugged. He didn't feel like clarifying that while ancient ruins might have a few random words written in the old languages, knowing the language largely wasn't helpful. In his experience, builders didn't often write a manual of how to dismantle the deadly trap protecting their assets.

Without waiting for his answer, she pushed open the door and whispered the translation, "For knowledge and wisdom." As soon as he stepped inside, Ivan was taken aback by the number of books and people in the two-story building. Many children studied from the comfort of deep couches, and a few waved silently at their entrance before returning to their books. He thought the chatterbox would carry on, but she respected the sacrosanct space of the library and the implicit law of silence. Reluctant to disturb the readers, they didn't stay long. As soon as they had left the building, her side of the conversation resumed.

"The library was founded for the children in the orphanage," she stated, gesturing toward the door. "Education makes a difference. It opens up worlds, in any way someone wishes to discover them by."

Ivan replied automatically, "A noble enterprise." He didn't voice his other thoughts. The concept of a public library smacked of naivete. He knew that most guilds charged for this kind of information, or else restricted who could learn it. It was easy to imagine that people abused this free service for their own gain. Additionally, he was of the opinion that children were better served learning skills in something actually useful, such as combat or a trade, so he couldn't quite agree with the idea.

The girl took this as approval. "If even one child looks back on his days here with fondness, we will have succeeded."

They continued their stroll through the town. From time to time, his guide would pause in front of a fountain or a shop. Thanks to his guide, Ivan learned that the stained glass windows were made by some famous glazier, and a bit about the process to make them. He learned that the flowers along the road were sent by a botanist who had found the species during her travels and cultivated it to live in this climate. A townsguard accompanied them for a brief time. He had been a military man, and his days as a battlefield medic provided him with the experience to serve as a doctor where he had chosen to retire.

At some point, Ivan realized that the number of her stops were quite frequent. While it was not uncommon for any location to have a single benefactor - often a count or a relative of nobility that resided there, this small town had many benefactors, and from all over the kingdom. Ivan walked on stones imported from the north, and rested beneath the shade of cherry trees uncommon in these parts.

His companion must have seen the look on his face because she had stopped speaking. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I've been told I prattle on far too much. You must have a question."

Ivan had been quiet since the visit to the library. Learning more about the town and its people had influenced his thoughts about their charter, and he was starting to warm to their aspirations. He did have a question, and he took the time to formulate it properly. "What is the name of this place?"

The guide smiled. "This is Freebird's Glory."

Click here for more info on the town.