Part 2

The Observer in the Woods Out near the thick woods, the group saw someone step from between the trees. This one stood much taller than most - 220 centimeters high. A long violet gown swept along the ground as they moved. On her head sat a hat so broad it seemed almost unreal. Gaught froze in fear when he saw her. Under his grip, the horses twitched, then pounded the cracked ground in jagged bursts. Out came the words like a scream - "She's no ordinary woman! She is a witch" Gaught cried, voice splitting apart. This was it, he thought. The end had arrived Surprise hit even Aysav, normally unshakable in disbelief. Yet when fear took hold, twisting everyone inside out, Anastasia moved ahead without pause. Calm carried her words, slicing clean through the rising noise. Hold on - everything is fine," Anastasia spoke fast. Not loud, but quick, almost gasping, like someone balancing something delicate that might crack at any breath. Her palms faced outward, gentle, meant to quiet things down. Less soldier, more nervous person caught off guard by guests. "My people … shared stories of her before. She is just watching. No harm comes unless we provoke, please breathe everything will be fine.” Aysav was taken a back, eyes locked on her. Most would’ve shouted by now - Anastasia stayed calm instead, working to hold things together. He saw her then, really saw her, spotting what he’d missed earlier. Over 180 centimeters she was tall, her long blonde hair coiffed in a majestic, intricate style that seemed far too elegant for a wasteland. She wore a black jacket of a strange, sharp design almost like a high-fashion yet strict costume and sturdy leather boots made for both riding and walking. What struck him most were her eyes: they were a gray gradient, a color he had never seen before. On her belt, she carried leather holsters containing strange iron spheres and a dagger in her back. Her brown gloves stood out in sharp contrast against her dark outfit. She didn't look scared; she looked more surprised and annoyed even though she was clearly trying to hide it. Not fear so much as irritation showed on her face. Then, after a breath that dragged like it carried weight, she faced Gaught again - still shaking. "It’s fine," she repeated. "Look, its gone please calm down" Out of nowhere, the figure called a witch slipped once more into the dark trees. Moving again, the group kept going but silence hung heavy. Closer now, the guards walked shoulder to shoulder through the hush. Gaught sat in a state of profound shock, each breath short and uneven. Not because he feared common thieves or wild beasts - those were expected - but now, a witch stood before him, something he’d never once thought possible. She wasn’t part of any plan, not even at the edges of his guesses. Suddenly, this village wasn’t just dangerous - it was somehow worse. Bent slightly ahead, Anastasia twisted her gloved fingers without pause. She looked at Gaught, her eyes wide with a mix of awkwardness and frustration. "Mr. Gaught, look, it’s really not what you think," she said, her voice hurried. "I promise this place is safe. My father already killed all the monsters years ago; there’s nothing left out there that can actually hurt you. And I’ve personally dealt with the bandits and the crime. I’ve spent months cleaning this place up myself to make sure it's ready for trade." She glanced out the window, then back at them, trying to maintain her composure despite the stress. "The witch is just a freak occurrence. Seriously, today was just a weird day. She usually never shows up. I swear, it’s a complete rarity. You won't see her again.” Gaught sat with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his eyes fixed on a singular point on the floor. He was no longer panicking. "I see," Gaught said quietly, his voice flat. "No monsters. No bandits. Just… the occasional witch... I’ll certainly take that into account, Miss Anastasia." It was a dismissal. Anastasia saw it immediately. She had recorded every detail, and cleared every physical threat, but she couldn't account for the sheer terror of the witch that wasnt supposed to leave her home thought Anastasia. Aysav, however, sat perfectly still, his gaze darting between the empty woods outside and the woman sitting across from him. He didn't say a word, but his eyes were wide, tracking her every movement. When Anastasia let out a quiet, annoyed huff and adjusted her gloves, Aysav’s head tilted instinctively, his pupils dilated with a sudden, intense curiosity. He looked at her gray eyes, then at the soldiers in black plate armor, then back to her. Most people would be shaken, but she just looked like she was mentally recalculating a lost profit margin. It made no sense. He found himself leaning toward her, his body reacting before his mind could catch up, his earlier "typical woman" thoughts completely replaced by a silent, burning need to understand what kind of person treats a witch like a minor inconvenien