The Northern winds were gentle that morning, brushing through pine branches as if afraid to disturb the
peace. Hearthvale, nestled among forested hills and slow rivers, stirred to life with the smell of baked honey
bread and the sound of wooden swords clacking in playful combat.
A small bakeshop near the village square buzzed with life. Inside, Elra, a warm, flour-dusted woman in her
thirties, prepared trays of sweet rolls with practiced grace. Her daughter Mira, a toddling two-year-old, sat
on a bench near the fire, swinging her legs and humming nonsense songs. Elra paused for a moment, gaze
drifting to the edge of the trees beyond the window. Something in the stillness made her frown—just for a
heartbeat.
In the corner, the front door creaked open as Dain stepped in—armor partially unstrapped, sword sheathed
but close at hand. A Knight Rank 4, he was the captain of the local knight division, respected across the
village for his calm leadership and disciplined aura. He kissed Elra on the cheek and lifted Mira into his
arms.
"Alaric still outside?" he asked.
"Since sunrise," Elra replied with a smile. "Swinging that wooden sword like he's guarding the duchess
herself."
Dain chuckled. "He'll wear that sword out before he even learns to hold it right."
At the Riverbank
Seven-year-old Alaric stood by the river, sweat on his brow, arms aching but determined. His wooden blade
whirled and blocked against an invisible enemy.
"Wind Slash!" he cried, slashing at the air.
"Wind Slash doesn't exist," came a dry voice. Lina, quiet and sharp-eyed, emerged from the trees with her
sketchbook in hand. "At least, not without wind magic."
"It could! Someday!"
"Sure," said Torren, arriving behind her, huffing. "Right after I summon a spirit made of meat pies."
The three collapsed onto the cool grass under the willow tree, their favorite meeting spot.
"I'm gonna enter the Grand Arcanum Academy someday," Alaric said suddenly.
"You and half the kingdom," Lina murmured.
"No," Alaric insisted, "we'll go together. We'll become knights, mages, summoners—like the heroes. We'll
form an adventurer party. Explore dungeons. Protect people."
"Team Hearthlight," said Torren with a grin.
Their weapons—stick, rock, and imaginary wand—clashed above their heads in a pact.
Wholesome Village Life
That afternoon, Hearthvale's market square filled with warmth and color. Children ran between booths, and
older villagers chatted over steaming cups. A retired summoner with a single water spirit made water dance
for the kids. Farmers traded fresh produce for enchanted herb pouches. The old tanner, Gregor, grumbled
about spirit-bugs eating his leather goods while gifting Alaric a carved wooden pendant for good luck.
Elra sold out her honeyed rolls before noon, even giving a few extras to hungry children who couldn't pay.
In the barracks, Dain trained a group of militia in basic sword drills. He smiled as he spotted Alaric
mimicking their movements from the side. After the lesson, he brought Alaric to the training post and
helped him adjust his stance.
"Strength is good," Dain said, "but precision keeps you alive."
Later, Alaric delivered fresh bread to the village elder, Old Mara, who thanked him with a ruffle of his hair
and a story about the time she saw a spirit walk through the river fog.
He also stopped by the healer's hut, where Sister Linneia, a Rank 5 healer from the Temple's northern
branch, gave him a sweet root candy and checked his scraped elbows.
"You have strong legs," she said kindly. "You'll need them if you're going to chase dreams that big."
Alaric beamed.
That Night
After supper, the village gathered near the river for the Moonfire Festival—a small celebration of the stars
and spirits. Children lit lanterns, letting them drift into the sky, each bearing a hope or wish.
Alaric wrote one word on his paper slip before tying it to his lantern: "Strength."
Torren's said, "Meat." Lina's, "Wings."
The lanterns rose.
Elra held Mira in her arms. Dain stood beside her, nodding to fellow knights and villagers alike. Everyone
knew their captain. Everyone loved Elra's bread. The Valerius family was the heart of Hearthvale.
Dain leaned closer to Elra, whispering, "He's got your courage, you know."
She smiled sadly. "And your stubbornness."
For a few perfect moments, the world stood still.
Above, unseen in the sky, a thin pulse shimmered across the stars—like a ripple in water.
But no one noticed.
Not yet.