It was the closest to the mansion, the first of the five villages governed by the Dmond family. It was only a thirty-minute walk away, perched on a small hill surrounded by fields and woodlands.

Its name came from an ancient oak tree that stood at the center of the village. The tree was immense, likely hundreds of years old, with a thick trunk and branches that stretched in every direction like protective arms. Its leaves were dark green and dense, forming a canopy that shaded the main square.

The village was small.

About thirty wooden houses with thatched roofs were arranged around the central square. The streets were made of packed earth, well maintained, without puddles or excessive mud. A small stone fountain stood at the foot of the oak tree, with crystal-clear water flowing continuously.

There was a simple inn, a two-story building with a painted sign depicting a bed and a mug. A blacksmith’s shop, where the sound of hammer striking anvil echoed rhythmically. A small white wooden chapel, with a bell hanging at its entrance. And a few stalls in the central square, where villagers sold vegetables, fruits, bread, and simple fabrics.

Lukas entered the village slowly.

His violet eyes wandered across every detail, the houses, the people, the animals.

Lukas spent the entire morning in that village.

He walked through the dirt streets, observing everything.

Chickens scratched around in the yards, pecking at the ground in search of grains and insects. Their feathers came in a variety of colors, white, brown, and black, some with speckled patterns. Whenever Lukas approached, they moved away, clucking in protest.

"Easy." He would say, crouching down and extending his hand with a few grains he had asked a villager for.

"I won’t hurt you."

One braver hen approached, pecked the grains from his hand, and quickly retreated. The others followed her example.

Lukas smiled.

Shepherd dogs with light-colored fur, white with brown patches, lay in the shade of the houses, their tongues hanging out as they panted in the heat. Whenever Lukas passed by, they would raise their heads, sniff the air, and return to resting. They did not bark. They did not stand up.

’They’re used to people.’ Lukas thought.

’They know I’m not a threat.’

Work horses, short and muscular animals with dark brown coats, grazed in a small field behind the village. Lukas approached the fence and observed them. They were different from the horses he had seen in the city, smaller, stockier, with thicker legs and shorter manes.

’Different breed. Adapted for farm work.’

Cats, many cats, slept on the rooftops of houses or slipped through the alleys. They were thin and agile, with green or yellow eyes that gleamed in the shadows. Whenever Lukas approached, most of them fled. But one, a black cat with green eyes, stayed.

It sat atop a low wall, its tail swaying slowly. Its green eyes were fixed on Lukas.

"Hello." Lukas said, approaching slowly. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

"Aren’t you afraid of me?"

The cat blinked slowly, a sign of trust, and continued swaying its tail.

Lukas extended his hand carefully. The cat sniffed his fingers. Its whiskers twitched. Then it rubbed its head against his hand.

Lukas chuckled softly.

Tilbo, on his shoulder, moved her antennae with slight tension.

Prata, on the other shoulder, remained still, but her multiple eyes were fixed on the cat.

"Easy." Lukas said to both of them.

"It’s just a cat."

The cat, in turn, looked at Tilbo and Prata with curiosity. It sniffed the air in their direction. Then, unhurriedly, it jumped down from the wall and disappeared into an alley.

...

Lukas spoke with the villagers.

He greeted the farmers and asked about the crops, the animals, and the weather. They answered respectfully, after all, he was the Baron’s son, but also with warmth. Lukas was polite, curious, and seemed genuinely interested.

An elderly woman, with gray hair tucked beneath a scarf, was carrying a heavy basket of vegetables, carrots, potatoes, onions, from her garden to her kitchen.

Lukas approached her.

"Do you need help?"

The woman looked at him in surprise. He was very small, only one year and five months old, and did not seem capable of carrying a basket of that size.

"It’s heavy, child." She said.

"I don’t want you to get hurt."

Lukas smiled. He took the basket from her hands, carefully controlling his strength, and carried it to the kitchen door as if it weighed no more than a feather.

The woman stood there, dumbfounded.

"But... how... you’re so small..."

"I’ve been training." Lukas replied simply.

He used only a fraction of his innate strength, enough to impress, but not enough to arouse suspicion.

Throughout the morning, he helped other villagers.

He carried buckets of water from the well for a woman who could not lift the weight.

He helped a farmer repair a broken fence, holding the posts in place while the man hammered them. He fed the pigs in a small sty behind the village, tossing food scraps into a wooden trough.

The villagers began looking at him differently.

’The Baron’s son isn’t just a noble.’ They thought.

’He’s hardworking. Polite. And strong.’

Lukas also observed the animals closely.

He noticed that the village chickens were smaller than the chickens of Earth, with denser feathers and shorter legs.

The pigs had coarser hair, almost like bristles, and longer snouts. The sheep produced thicker wool, less soft than the wool he remembered.

’Different evolution. Adaptation to a different climate.’

He recorded everything mentally.

A cow, one of the few in the village, was tied to a tree near the fountain. Its eyes were large and brown, and it chewed slowly, its jaw moving in a steady rhythm.

Lukas approached slowly.

The cow lifted its head, sniffed the air, and resumed chewing.

He extended his hand and touched its neck.

Its fur was short, soft, and warm beneath his fingers.

"You’re beautiful." He said quietly.

The cow mooed, a low, prolonged sound, and rubbed its head against his shoulder.

Tilbo, on his left shoulder, moved her antennae toward the cow. Prata, on his right, lifted one leg as if examining the animal.

"They’re curious too."

The sun was already high in the sky when Lukas decided to return.

He said goodbye to the villagers, thanked them for the conversations, and promised to visit again soon.

The journey back was peaceful.

Tilbo and Prata were on his shoulders, as always. The ant seemed more relaxed now, away from the village, away from so many strangers. The spider remained motionless, but Lukas could feel her presence, her weight on his right shoulder.

He arrived at the mansion shortly before lunch.

Aurora welcomed him at the door with a radiant smile and a tight embrace.

"How was it, my love?"

"It was good, Mom." Lukas smiled, his violet eyes shining.

"The people are kind. The animals are interesting. I learned a lot."

"Tell me everything over lunch."

"I will."

He went upstairs to his room, washed his face and hands, and returned to the dining table.

During lunch, he talked about the village, the animals, and the people he had helped. He omitted only the tests of strength, but he didn’t need to tell them everything.

Aurora listened attentively, asking questions here and there. Clavor nodded proudly. Judite wanted to know whether there had been any cats.

The day had been perfect.

’Tomorrow.’ Lukas thought as he climbed the stairs to his room after lunch.

’Tomorrow I’ll go to the Village of the Stream.’

’And after that, perhaps the Village of the Fields.’

’One by one.’

’Learning every inch of my family’s lands.’

’Every animal.’

Tilbo moved her antennae. Prata raised one leg. And Lukas smiled.