And then came the true revelation—Aeon's vision of branding.
He had handed her a stack of scribbled parchments one evening, his small hands trembling with excitement, blue eyes wide as he explained concepts that seemed pulled from dreams or forgotten realms.
"Mommy, every product needs a mark, a story that sticks in people's hearts," he'd said, voice a mix of childish glee and profound insight, as if arcana whispered ancient secrets. "The infinity sign means endless fun, and Microrune—it's like micro magic runes, tiny spells in every game! Put it on everything, and people won't just buy it; they'll remember it, crave it, like a spell they can't shake."
Aisa had listened, her heart pounding with wonder and awe. She realized this wasn't mere child's play. In a world where goods were sold by word of mouth or noble decree, Aeon's branding could revolutionize commerce—turning simple items into legends, weaving loyalty like invisible threads across kingdoms.
One day, this will change everything, she thought, pride laced with a shiver of foreboding. She envisioned empires built on logos, wars waged over symbols—all sparked by her son's genius.
For now, it was a light idea, playful in its infancy, but dramatically poised to reshape commerce. She kept the vision close, a secret flame in her heart. The logo and name adorned every product, safeguarding Microrune's future against copies and oblivion—her overprotectiveness extending even to her son's creations.
As she approached the Merchant Guild's two-story building, its plain golden coin icon gleaming in the sun, tension coiled in her chest.
This meeting would expand their reach, but it also risked drawing eyes she preferred to avoid—eyes that might unravel the peaceful life she had built. Especially with Aeon's branding poised to ignite a revolution in how products were marketed across the realms. A secret she would guard fiercely, revealing only the surface to ensure its quiet growth.
Inside, the guild buzzed with activity—rows of attendants handling coin exchanges and shop owners haggling over deals.
Aisa approached the leftmost counter, where a young attendant sat idle.
"Hello," she said softly, her voice carrying that fairy-like charm laced with emotional warmth. "I'm from Microrune. I have a meeting scheduled with the guild master of Veloria."
The attendant's eyes widened, her posture straightening with awe and respect. Aisa could sense the shift—the way her presence commanded without effort, much like how her children thought they fooled her but always felt her love's pull.
"Please, Madam, give me a minute to check," the girl replied, picking up a voice runestone. After a brief murmur, she nodded eagerly. "Madam, the guild master is waiting in the meeting room. Let me guide you."
As they climbed the stairs, Aisa's mind drifted to Aeon's latest antics. She pictured him ruffling Essa's hair after a sparring match, laughing, "You'll never beat me with love in your eyes, Sis!" Essa's scarlet flush had betrayed her brocon heart—torn between scolding him and hugging him tighter.
Her protectiveness mirrored Aisa's own hidden storm. My little sparks, she thought, her heart aching with joy and foreboding.
The attendant knocked on the meeting room door and stepped aside.
The guild master, a portly man with a neatly trimmed beard, greeted Aisa with a broad smile, eyes twinkling with respect.
"Madam, just in time! I was about to call you myself if you hadn't arrived. Someone higher up has taken interest in Microrune's products—they just arrived. Please, come inside."
Aisa raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering like a whisper of fate. She hadn't expected such interest so soon. Still, she entered calmly.
Her gaze fell on a woman with brown hair, hazel eyes, a short nose, and long, chiseled cheekbones—elegant, poised, and shockingly familiar.
"Valdira Goldsnez," Aisa muttered, her voice a whisper of recognition laced with tension. Memories of old banquets stirred like a gentle ache.
The woman arched a brow, not expecting to be recognized here. Her hazel eyes narrowed with intrigue—until realization struck.
"Aisa Fenixhart!" she exclaimed, her composure cracking in genuine shock.
Valdira was no ordinary merchant. She was the daughter of the master who oversaw all merchant guilds in Artia—a figure Aisa had once shared whispered conversations with over wine during her youth.
Quickly, Valdira composed herself. With a flick of her wrist, she dismissed the guild master and sealed the room with a soundproof spell, the air shimmering with secrecy.
"Well, well," she said, her tone a mix of amusement and intrigue, her hazel eyes softening with nostalgic warmth. "I didn't expect to find the missing sweetheart child of the Fenixhart house here of all places. It's been years—you vanished like a fairy tale's end, leaving whispers that still echo in the capital."
Aisa sighed, recalling one of Aeon's quirky phrases—"cat got your tongue?"—and offered a faint smile.
"Valdira… neither did I expect you to grace this small town yourself," she said softly, her voice laced with light teasing yet weighted with hidden fears. "You've come far from those glittering banquets. What brings the guild master's daughter to my quiet corner?"
Valdira's smile widened, her chiseled cheekbones catching the light. "How could I not? When I saw those strange products—cards, boards, dice—all stamped with that clever Microrune name and strange logo? They could revolutionize the entire entertainment industry!"
Her eyes sparkled with admiration. "They're brilliant, Aisa. Simple yet addictive, spreading joy like wildfire. Was it you who invented them? Or is this another Fenixhart secret?"
Aisa's lips curved in a proud, motherly smile. Her heart swelled with tenderness, tears pricking faintly as she thought of Aeon's genius.
"No, not me," she said gently, recalling his mischievous laugh when he'd named the company. "They were invented by my baby boy, Aeon. He's only four, but his mind… it's a whirlwind of mischief and magic. He even named the company himself, insisted on that logo—says it's 'infinity, like magic that never ends.' I just helped bring it to life, with the funds my husband left behind."
Her words carried a chuckle, but beneath them lay the ache of protecting Aeon's spark from the world's greed—her storm of overprotectiveness always lurking.
Valdira looked stunned, leaning forward in disbelief. "Your… baby boy? Aisa, you're a mother? And a child invented these? I… I couldn't be more shocked in just a few minutes."
A light laugh escaped her, tinged with admiration. "He's a prodigy, then—like his mother. Sit, please. Let's discuss this properly, old friend. Tell me everything—how you've been, how this all came to be."
Her voice softened, carrying the pull of rekindled bonds.
They settled at the table. Conversation flowed like old times: capital intrigues, noble whispers, unspoken regrets. Valdira shared tales of guild pressures with a dramatic sigh, while Aisa offered lighter anecdotes of Veloria's peace, her heart aching with affection for her children.
Hours slipped by as they delved into expanding Microrune's reach across Artia and beyond. Aisa insisted firmly that every product bear the name and logo—a detail she let Valdira think was a family whim, while secretly protecting its revolutionary power.
She had already secured magical patents on Microrune's products—contracts etched with shimmering runes in the Merchant Guild's ledgers, binding across Artia and even into the markets of distant kingdoms and empires. They were not dusty scrolls, but living seals, glowing faintly with authority that no merchant dared defy.
Anyone who tried to sell a forged copy would face the Guild's wrath. Shops would be closed overnight, trade rights stripped away, caravans turned back at city gates. In worse cases, royal guards would march at the Guild's call, treating the forgeries as crimes against commerce itself.
Of course, black markets would always sneak out their imitations in alley stalls and tavern backrooms. Yet those shadows were laughably small compared to the brilliance of the real Microrune name. Aisa smiled faintly at the thought. Such petty losses meant nothing beside the greater vision—her son's spark safeguarded by rune, law, and story, destined to be remembered long after the forgeries crumbled to dust.
At last, Aisa restated the terms. Her brown eyes locked onto Valdira's with steady resolve.
"So, I want a 25% profit cut, with our Microrune brand name and logo printed on all products sold by the Merchant Guild."
She was ceding production rights, knowing expansion alone was impossible. Internally, she clung to Aeon's parchments: "Mommy, the logo isn't just pretty; it's the soul of the product. Without it, copies are shadows—people will seek the real magic."
Valdira considered, then shook her head with a teasing smile. "Aisa, 25% would be operational suicide for us—think of the guilds, the workers. How about 10%? I'll ensure your Microrune name and logo appear on every product, though I've never handled a request like this before. For old times' sake?"
Aisa weighed her children's faces in her heart: Aeon's grin, Essa's fierce loyalty, her own protective shadows.
"How about 15%?" she proposed softly. "And any new products from Microrune will give first priority to the Merchant Guild. Deal?"
Valdira paused, then extended her hand with a warm smile, her hazel eyes shimmering.
"Okay, deal. To Microrune—and to Aeon's genius lighting up the kingdoms."