Leandre just took a few puffs of his pipe. "He can stay the night at your house. That's final."

With that, he walked away.

His tone was firm and unquestionable. With Leandre—the chief—showing his authority, Lincoln didn't dare protest any further. He could only give Felix an apologetic look.

"Sorry, Felix. I didn't know Leandre was so wary of outsiders."

Felix chuckled. "It's fine. I'm just grateful he let me stay the night."

Innswood Village was visibly poor. There was not a single brick house in sight. Everything was made of straw and wood, barely holding together.

The village was small. According to Lincoln, only about 300 people lived there.

On the way in, Felix had also learned that Lincoln's father was still alive, but he'd broken both his legs a year ago while out foraging. Since then, he'd been bedridden, and all the responsibility of supporting the family had fallen on Lincoln's shoulders. Honestly, Lincoln was as filial as they came.

"You must be Felix. Thank you for