"Hello, Patrick," I greet the kid as he looks at my table, surprise in his mind.

  We're a little bit north of the village itself, where everyone is setting up for the festival. A couple of trucks and wagons with visitors from elsewhere have already arrived, though it seems most of those are people here to sell goods as well. At the very least, they're setting up their own stations.

  The traveling merchants are mainly selling manufactured goods, hoping to earn enough from the locals and other visitors to cover the trip here. As for the locals, they're putting up extra produce and other goods from the spring season. We haven't reached the final harvests for spring yet, but we're at the point where everything has grown and can be harvested and sold.

  Thomas is helping Chief set up the potluck station, where locals have dropped off or are dropping off foods they made. All of it in large enough batches that there's enough for everyone, even the visitors. Most of Thomas's work involves pulling the wagon around to the different homes to help transport the food, whether it's for the potluck or for sale.

  "You've got a stall," Patrick says.

  "I've got a stall."

  "That's jam?"

  "Three different jams," I indicate the mana berry jam. "That's a special berry jam," I indicate a jar with orange-gold contents. "This is peach preserves," I indicate a deep red jam. "And this is another berry jam."

  "Hm…" he stares at them critically. "Blueberry, peach, and strawberry?"

  "Of certain varieties of them," I say. "And I've got some bread for sampling them."

  The bread is stored in one of my stasis pocket bracelets, while I have three jars set closer to me than the rest, each with their lids already loosened and a knife resting atop them.

  "Can I try some?" He asks. "I know it ain't really started yet… but your ice cream and sausages were really good."

  "Sure," I chuckle, then pull a loaf of bread out of my storage. With a little bit of air magic, I slice off three smaller pieces, which I spread some of each jam onto. "Here you go, Patrick."

  Patrick tries each piece, and I can tell that he enjoys them just as much as Nolan did.

  "This is really good," he says while still chewing the last piece. "Save a jar of each for me? I ain't got money now, but I should have some for after the festival."

  "Don't worry about that, little man," I reach forward and ruffle his hair. "Dylan and I underestimated just how much the mana in the soil over there boosts plant growth over here and we had quite a lot. Every local family is getting a jar of each. And the jars you guys are getting have special enchantments on them to cool the jam, so that it'll stay good for a few months after they've been opened."

  That's mostly so that they don't have to decide on which one to open first. This way, they can just open all three and use them based on what they're feeling.

  "Neat!" He grins. "I'm gonna go now! Ma and Da are selling pickles, come by if you run out of stuff. See ya!"

  Patrick hurries off and I snort at his shift. It seems that the easiest way to get him to like me is just to make food. I'm not even trying for him – it's the adults I'm attempting to earn the trust of.

  Something that doesn't surprise me when Elaina takes her first break from her family's stall is that she goes straight to where Ash has his own table set up. He brought stuff out here to do work on the spot, for repairing some items and such. There are some premade items set out as well, such as nails and screws. Just as with basically every local guy here, he's bare-chested, when ignoring his smith's apron.

  Elaina kept checking out his muscles whenever she got the chance and I know he kept resisting the urge to look toward her as he worked. Those two should just formalize things already.

  "This is an interesting jam," the trader who came to my stall says after trying the heart berry jam. "Heart berry jam… it's not often I find someone who makes it. Not many have enough to spare from health potions."

  Instinct tells me that he wants to ask about purchasing a larger batch of them for resale elsewhere. That's not something I'm opposed to, and had even suspected the possibility of it happening. I've gone to small villages out in the sticks before just to see if there's something interesting there. By the feel of his mind, though, I don't think I will.

  He doesn't feel genuine and honest, he feels a little on the more selfish, entitled side. Not enough for the barrier to prevent him from even entering, but enough that I don't like him. Depending on how this conversation goes, I'll probably not sell a bigger batch to him.

  "I have an advantage when it comes to knowing the best spots to plant them," I say. "And combine that with the mana-rich soil here, and other factors, and the lack of people getting hurt too often around here, and well, I've got some extra."

  While it lacks the healing properties a health potion would have, heart berry jam is still valuable due to its flavor. But he's right in that it's not easy to grow a large amount of them. Those who manage it use them to make health potions. I'm honestly a little bit lucky to be able to grow them in a large quantity in a Mistland without worry of repercussions from the land or limitations by the guardian magi.

  "Do you have health potions for sale?" He asks. "Or mana potions?"

  "No."

  "Really?" He asks, disbelief deep in his mind yet barely showing on his face. "You have enough to make jars of jam to sell, but didn't make potions?"

  "We aren't in need of potions out here," I state. "So I don't make them for sale. I'm more interested in food."

  He seems to wrestle with how to react to that, though I guess he eventually decides there's no point in arguing with a magus. I've stated there aren't any potions for sale, so there aren't any potions for sale. Remaining firm on this when dealing with a merchant is the easiest way to deter future problems.

  Though I think the barrier is also designed to do that. I really want to take a look at its wardstone, but I doubt the other Magi here like me enough for that yet. Their work is really impressive, though. I don't think I could make a barrier that can straight-up deny people who have ill intentions the way they did, not even once I've lived for a thousand years.

  "I see," the merchant says. "How much are they?"

  "The mana berry and heartberry jams are 32 copper a jar," I say. "And the peach preserves – being made with ordinary peaches and sugar – are 8 copper a jar. This price is nonnegotiable."

  "Nonnegotiable?" He asks. "Those prices are a little on the higher side, sir."

  "Yet I've already sold a couple dozen of each," I state. "More for the heartberry jam, even. As I'm sure you're aware, the growing conditions for a berry affects its flavor, and the plot of land I'm living on has a pretty unique one. Each Mistland is different, after all, as are the soil and other conditions. You won't find a jar of these jams with the same flavor profile anywhere else. Not unless it came from me first. And this price is already reduced by twenty percent in spirit of the festival and celebration of harvest."

  I've had magic berry jams and preserves before, and I know their typical values from other places. Whether the merchant does or not, he's not getting a lower price from me. The higher actual value of them is also part of why I'm gifting each household in the area a jar of each of the three for free.

  According to Thomas and Dylan, gifted or reduced-cost between locals is normal during their harvest festivals. Attempting to charge them the same price I'm giving the outsiders would probably make them dislike me… and it's really not like I need to earn money off of them. They also won't be earning anywhere near as much as I am.

  I do plan on looking at some of the other stalls once Dylan takes over for me. That's not for a little bit, though, so I'm not going to focus on that for now.

  "Hm…" the merchant before me muses over something for a few moments. "How many do you have?"

  "Each individual may buy up to two jars of each," I state.

  "Only two?" Surprise fills his mind again. "That's not a lot."

  "It is for a normal household," I say. "Unless they're using quite a lot of jam each time, it can last for a week or more. Assuming four members, that is. That's typical pricing, and jam is a luxury for most common households. I might have plenty, but I'd like to make sure everyone has an opportunity to buy some."

  He grumbles something under his breath. An amateur merchant, then. The ones I'm used to dealing with wouldn't have let their displeasure show in the slightest, and he's not just doing that, he grumbling. There's anger there as well, so I'm glad I decided not to let him buy in bulk for resale elsewhere.

  In the end, he buys two of each jar, then walks off to try and haggle with someone else. About fifteen minutes after that, I notice a truck coming towards the festival grounds. Over the last few hours, a few more wagons have arrived, bringing in tourists to have a look at the local goods, and this is the first truck outside of the initial ones.

  Apparently, my perception of how many people arrive for some festivals and events was a little skewed. The Arrival had a few outsiders, but not many. That probably came from various factors, including the late hour and how it doesn't seem that significant to people who are used to mages. For a festival where the locals are actually selling things… it makes sense people would want to come and buy stuff.

  This is especially true since some of the locals are selling products which may or may not have magic ingredients. It seems the outsiders have never really informed the locals of this. That, or when the locals are told, they suspect it's just someone trying to butter them up or give them extra praise for some reason.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  While it's not enough to result in a lot of extra earnings for the locals, the potential for magic ingredients does bring in a few more people to look at their produce. I haven't seen any of the magic foods on the tables, though.

  All of the locals probably view them as a higher variety, and they are more difficult to grow, so they probably want to keep them for themselves.

  The truck that I've noticed coming this way… I recognize. And I know the owner of it would make sure his providers know exactly what they have. He's one of the merchants I trust the most due to his honesty and integrity. That means he's coming here for the first time, and I doubt it's a coincidence that his first time here is after I move into the area.

  How in the fuck did he find me?

  "Dylan," I murmur with a little bit of air magic when I spot the woman in the passenger seat of the truck. "Would you mind coming and taking over now? I know it's a little bit early, but I need to do something."

  About a minute later, Dylan shows up with Nolan, the latter of whom seems to be nodding off.

  "He was playing with some of the kids who came from out of the area," Dylan tells me. "He ain't ever been to a festival like this before, so the visitors ain't aware of… well, y'know. I think he's needing some quieter time now."

  "That's fine," I say. "The three crates are as labeled, and remember the practice we did yesterday. And that the prices are nonnegotiable."

  "They're already reduced for the festival," he says.

  "Yeah," I say. "Thanks for taking over. Some old friends of mine just showed up and I want to talk with them before they do anything."

  Confusion and suspicion enters his mind, but also acceptance. He doesn't know my past but knows I'm hiding something, so he's probably figured I'm planning on telling them what not to say.

  "Have fun," he tells me.

  "Thanks," I respond, then hurry over to where the truck has parked.

  As soon as they see me approaching, both of its passengers stop walking towards the festival.

  The woman is twenty-three and dressed in a green summer dress and dark brown leather boots, her brown hair set into slight curls that cascade over her shoulders and back. The man looks to be in his thirties, but is nearing fifty, and is dressed in an outfit made of finer clothes. Both have the green eyes of mages, and neither one of them looks surprised to see me.

  Nor is there any surprise in their minds.

  That's confirmation that they knew where I was, and I really hope it wasn't because of a god. The woman is a Saint, and gods talk with their Saints fairly often, much more so than they do Priests, Archpriests, and common folk combined.

  "Hello, Rowan," Willow greets me with a friendly smile.

  "Enjoying your retirement?" Basil asks.

  "I am, thanks," I say. "And hello to both of you. Willow, did Nelvomiel tell you where I am?"

  "No," she answers. "I heard about your location from someone else who heard about your location… you get the idea."

  "Uh… no, I don't," I say. "How was I found? I was pretty sure I-"

  "Rowan!" She laughs. "As brilliant as you are, you're pretty dumb in some areas. Sure, there are dozens of Rowans in Silveroak, and sure, you're using a different last name when you give it out. But there's only one magus named Rowan in the entire kingdom. Probably in the entire Greater Region, especially if we narrow it down to those who look around twenty."

  "Then add in that said Magus Rowan sold some sizable, high-quality earth magic crystals in Tempest Oak," Basil adds. "And those could have only been obtained in a Labyrinth, the only known one of which in the area is in the Mistwood Region, and well, we knew where you were. Especially since said Magus Rowan was also commissioning bases for spatial and stasis bracelets. And I heard a rumor about a week and a half ago about a new device that was commissioned at a shop. Two devices. One which allowed for mincing meat – which they didn't know the purpose of – and one for making it easier to extract oil.

  "The craftsman only made one and stated he wouldn't be able to make them again without the blueprints he'd been given," he continues. "But, well, I also happened to know of a Rowan – the name of the young magus who commissioned them – who had a smith make those exact same things before. A smith who stated the same about crafting them again. I'm not normally interested in a festival like this, but if you're here, well, Willow and I met on the way and I offered her a ride."

  All fair points… I guess I hadn't considered those factors. That really would narrow down where I am.They both feel pretty amused as bring those points up, but it has me wondering something.

  "The crystals were quite awhile ago," I say. "If that's all it took to know where I am, how come no one came out sooner?"

  The amusement in Willow's mind increases, but also curiosity.

  "His Majesty issued an order after hearing you were here," she tells me. "An order that no one was to disturb you or attempt to pull you out of retirement. And your actual specific location isn't as widespread as it might sound. Most of the people who know are your friends and people like the General, the other Archmages, a few Sages, the Master Adventurer, and so on. Big shots."

  "His Majesty did what?" I ask.

  "Yeah," she says. "And that's what makes it really interesting, since he issued the order once Jas woke and saw your note, then relayed it to those who mattered and they relayed it to him. He stated that if you were retiring, attempting to pull you out would be stupid."

  That's what has her curious. I don't know why the king would have reissued the order, though, unless it has to do with why there are no records of the magi living here. That's not the sort of thing that should cause an issue with bothering me, though, so I'm sure there's something else involved.

  "Well, yeah," I say. "I'm not planning on returning to other stuff. I want something cozy and fun. I've got a farm now, along with a slime barn. Why would I return to traveling around, dealing with stuff, when I can just continue a calmer life?"

  "Something tells me the slimes came before the farm."

  "Maybe."

  Willow laughs and shakes her head.

  "I wouldn't be surprised if I come back in five years and you've somehow managed to domesticate dragons and are raising those," she says. "You've always had a magus's taste in things… and I know you enjoy dragon meat."

  "I probably won't be doing that," I say. "But I do have a decent amount of magic crops. It seems the locals have been growing them without realizing it and just eating them like normal foods. Not that I don't do the same, and I do have a table set up to sell jams I made with mana berries and heartberries – with sugar made from sweet mana beets and sweet heartbeets."

  The locals also had sweet heartbeets, which look like heart-shaped red beets. Its sugar comes out pale red, just as the sweet mana beet sugar comes out pale blue.

  "Speaking of those," Basil says. "I was curious about what you'd be having for sale. I'm sure you have samples set up at your table, but I also know you're aware of how to make jams. Would you be willing to sell some to me, for resale elsewhere? Jams from a Mistland have their own flavor profiles, so I know they'll sell."

  "Sure," I answer. "I'm selling them discounted for the festival. The peach preserves, which are made with normal peaches and sugar, are 8 ciirvrios a jar. The mana berry jam and heartberry jam are 32 ciirvrios a jar. And for special customers, I have a double-berry jam that's also 32 ciirvrios a jar."

  "How many of each are you willing to part with?" Basil asks.

  "This is Rowan we're talking about," Willow says. "Weren't you telling me on our way here about how he went 'well, that happened' one time when he was making ice cream and ended up with a few hundred gallons of it? He's probably got several hundred of each jar."

  I did go a bit excessive with the cooking the last two days. Even if I pluck all of the ripe berries one day, the next day will have plenty more. When I was picking things to make the double-berry jam… I just kind of got carried away.

  "For special sale, I do," I say. "It's stock leftover from what's not going up for sale during the festival, and whatever I don't sell here, I'll probably sell throughout the year. It's not as if I can't just brew up more, and I can make all the tools and jars, myself."

  Willow laughs as Basil chuckles.

  "How about two hundred of each?" He asks.

  I pull out the crates of jam and preserves as Basil pulls out money, and once the exchange is done, he puts the crates into his own stasis storage cuff. It's one I crafted for him a few years ago, in exchange for some things.

  "Thank you for the goods," Basil tells me once we finish.

  "Thank you for the purchase," I respond.

  "So," he smiles widely again. "How have you been out here? Enjoying it?"

  "Quite a lot," I look toward the festival. "Though the population's smaller than I expected. There's a pair of ancient magi living here – old enough to have gotten too focused on their research to pay attention to developments outside and learn that 'mage' is the new term and that 'witch' and 'wizard' are now considered offensive."

  "Seriously?" He asks. "There are magi that old?"

  "Yeah," I dip my head towards the old married couple. "They're bickering in their original language. I don't know how old they are other than 'under seven thousand', and even that's only because Robin told me he and Rose are younger than Aluci."

  "How does Aluci like it out here?" Willow asks.

  "See that young man there?" I indicate my stall. "That's Dylan, and he has a two-year-old named Nolan. You can't see Nolan as I think he's just sitting on the ground. Aluci loves playing with the little guy, and the spirits do, too."

  "The spirits?" They both ask.

  "Yeah," I say. "The spirits. All of the locals are beloved by the spirits and have a companion one – though they weren't aware of it. Dylan and Nolan have plant spirits hanging out with them, while most have earth or water spirits. Oh, and the smith guy doing work and selling things? That's Ash, and he's from a forge in town rather than from here. I wouldn't be surprised if he moves out here soon."

  "I'm assuming he's the only bare-chested man who's not a local?" Willow asks.

  Specifically man, because many of the visiting boys have shucked their shirts and are playing in the river. Adults are often more reserved than youth when it comes to that sort of thing in a public setting.

  "Probably," I say. "The local men do seem to prefer to be bare-chested when it's warm out. He has a fire spiritand an earth spirit who hang out with him, and the lady at that table there is Elaina. The two of them are infatuated with each other, and I'm not sure why they haven't decided to marry yet, though it's also not my business. He also meets all of the qualifications to be permitted to live here, as far as I can tell."

  "Referring to the barrier?" She asks.

  "Barrier?" Basil asks.

  "I noticed it when we crossed through," Willow nods. "There's a powerful barrier in place. I don't know what it does and will need months to decipher even a part of it, but since Rowan mentioned qualifications for living here, the two are likely connected."

  "It was crafted by Robin and Rose," I confirm. "And it's done specifically to only allow people spirits like, and who won't run the risk of causing problems or exploiting the land, to move into the area. Everyone else can be here for up to three months."

  "And it seems the magi like you," she says. "Understandable, you're a likable guy. Jas was actually a little sad to find that things were over, but also kind of relieved. He did feel bad for not being able to fully satisfy you."

  Jasper is my ex-boyfriend. While we were pretty close in the year and a half or so we knew each other and dated, it was for the better that things ended between us. Spirits liked him and he was interested in magic, and we were happy together. However, we both knew it wouldn't be sustainable long-term.

  His interest in magic is a more casual one than mine, and he actually disliked whenever I got too into my interests. Anyone who gets with me long-term has to accept that magi do that sort of thing and be willing to go through that sort of thing. In addition, there was the part she mentioned as well, that he couldn't fully satisfy me.

  So it's really for the best that things between us ended.

  "How's he doing?" I ask. "He never seemed to enjoy the life in the camps, nor when I got too much into my focus on stuff. That's why I felt it best to part ways – he'd be happier with someone else."

  "He's doing well," she answers. "Informed them about your letter and retirement, then packed his things and went back to his family's farm. I know he wants to come visit you to see how you're doing, but also isn't sure if you'd be okay with that."

  "Sure, I'm fine with it," I say.

  "I'll let him know next time we meet," she tells me. "And speaking of your retirement, how much do those out here know?"

  "I've told them I'm an orphan who was adopted by a noble I later severed ties to and had myself struck from the family of," I say. "And that I went to become an adventurer when I was thirteen, but that I'm retiring now to pursue my interests. They know I'm a magus, but only Dylan, Thomas, and the Magi know I can do spatial and temporal spells. Otherwise, just that I can use arcane, elemental, and nature magics. Earning their trust and avoiding other complications is easier this way."

  "We'll keep that in mind," she says.

  "I never betray the secrets of my customers and patrons," Basil says.

  "Alright," I say. "Let me introduce you two to the chief and the Magi, then I should return to my table for a little bit."