"Between the morning bread and the iron of evening, fate laughed at us."
**
Hilda believed that morning never truly began until she combed her son's hair herself—as if she were untangling her own heart for a new day.
A small comb slid through dark brown strands,a warm hand, and two eyes locked onto the mirror.
"Don't move, Raegen… your hair tangles too easily, even though I comb it every day."
"Oww! That hurts! Mooom!"
Raegen's face twisted in pain, and Hilda laughed softly, lovingly.
"Be patient… we'll be done in no time."
Hilda had a face marked by quiet nobility…her red hair catching the sunlight gave her an unspoken grace,and her eyes seemed to see more than they ever said.
The house was filled with a blend of warm laughter,the scent of fresh bread,and the faint clang of iron echoing through the wall.
And the moment that sound ceased—Raegen's father, Valdern, walked in.
Broad-shouldered and tall, his short black hair matched his warm bronze skin, giving him a distinct presence.
He smiled calmly and said in a gentle tone:"Is the little knight ready? The market awaits, and iron doesn't bargain with the lazy, Hilda."
The midday sun hung high in the sky, casting its warmth across the earth as Raegen and Valdern made their way toward the market—or rather, the heart of Grana.
Grana…It wasn't just a besieged city.It was trying to live, clinging to every last thread of hope.And its market, like a heartbeat of sheer will, pulsed with vendors, children, and the scent of bread laced with blacksmith smoke.Even the elderly would gather there, for it was the one place where life still felt alive...
But behind every laugh, someone was always trying to steal that warmth.The Empire itself.Despite their constant oppression and mockery, the souls of Grana kept selling hope—a loaf of bread here, a wooden toy there.
Current Information:Name: GranaArea: Approx. 365 km²Dimensions: 41 km long, 6 to 12 km wideStatus: A city under siege by the Empire. Citizens are not allowed to cross its borders for "security reasons."
Additional Fact:Any attempt to cross the border means either getting lost… or dying.
With each step through the market, Valdern and his son were met with greetings from neighbors and shopkeepers,welcoming the man with soot-stained hands—the blacksmith everyone respected.
Before long, he reached the table of his old friend, Jarn.
"Heeey, Valdern!" Jarn called, waving his thick arm in the air.
Valdern raised his hand in return and walked up to him."Good afternoon, Jarn. How are things?""All's well. Looks like you're ready to hammer some iron again today, huh?"
While Valdern and Jarn chatted away,Raegen's eyes were locked on the traveling toy vendors—his gaze full of silent longing.
Suddenly, a shout erupted from one of the nearby houses.Curious, Raegen stepped closer and noticed the front door slightly ajar.He peeked inside—
Only to see a short woman,but with a voice loud enough to silence an entire market,scolding her massive, soot-covered husband:
"How many times have I told you to take off your shoes before coming in?!"
He scratched the back of his head and replied:"I'm a blacksmith, my love… these hands are made for shaping iron,not for taking off shoes every five minutes."
"Well then, Mr. Busy Blacksmith,next time you can mop the floors yourself!"
"Alright, alright! I won't do it again—just please don't get mad, darling!"
Before Raegen could even smile at the blacksmith's defeated chuckle—
A rock struck him on the head ، And it was me… who threw it.
"I'm a blacksmith, my dear… these hands were made to shape iron, not to take off shoes every minute."
"Well then, Mr. Busy Blacksmith, next time we'll see who mops the floors."
"Alright, alright, I won't do it again. Just don't be mad, my love."
Before Raegen could catch the blacksmith's chuckle—a rock struck him on the head.
And I was the one who threw it.
"Ow! What the…? Who throws rocks in happy stories?!"
He turned around, rubbing his head, only to find me standing there.
I was his age, maybe a bit shorter, but the way I stood made me look like a mountain that refused to be moved.My long black hair framed my forehead, my white cloak wrapped tight around me, and my eyes…my eyes burned like embers—alive, and unwilling to fade.
I placed my hands on my hips and yelled angrily:"What do you think you're doing over there?"
He snapped back, full of pride:"What's it to you?"
I crossed my arms and smirked mockingly:"Me? You want to know who I am? I'm the owner of this house. And you… you're spying on it."
He hesitated for a second, then barked:"Your house? So what? I was just passing by."
"Liars. Boys like you always lie. How can I believe you when I saw you with my own eyes?"
He stuck out his tongue, pulled down his lower eyelid, and laughed like a child:"So what if I was spying? What are you gonna do? Throw another rock at me?"
His loud laugh filled the air—but I turned away sharply, letting a silver symbol around my neck flash before him:
a broken crescent.
I usually kept it hidden under my scarf… or sometimes my hair, when the weather was hot.My parents once told me this symbol only appears on the chosen few—those meant to protect the town.
But me?I'm not so sure I was ever one of them.
I saw Raegen's eyes shift suddenly. There was something mysterious squeezing his heart, but he ignored it, too busy teasing me.My cheeks flushed like ripe tomatoes, and I raised another rock threateningly—but my hands trembled from a mix of anger and laughter:"I'll crush you!"
The people in the market watched our childish fight, some smiling, shaking their heads as if this scene repeated every week.
Then Faldern appeared, having just finished buying his tools, cutting through our battle:"Hey, do I need to start forging here too to calm everyone down?"
I stopped shyly—it was one of my father's friends. Raegen chuckled quietly, then gently grabbed his father's hand. Faldern's voice was serious:"What have you done now?"
Raegen looked embarrassed:"I didn't do anything."
But Faldern knew better—Raegen was a little troublemaker, as always, and apologized sincerely:"I'm sorry for what he did. He can be mischievous sometimes. I hope he didn't bother you."
Then he squeezed Raegen's hand and said,"Come on, your mother is waiting for us."
As Faldern and Raegen walked away, Raegen turned to glare at me with a challenging look that made my blood boil.
Their steps faded away, and the noise of the market slowly quieted until only the distant echoes of laughter remained…
Night fell like a curtain, stars glittered above the rooftops…In a small house filled with warm light, Raegen sat with his parents around the dinner table…
The clinking of spoons against plates broke the silence, but then Raegen suddenly remembered something:"Oh! Dad, do women scare men?"
The question caught Hilda and Faldern off guard. Hilda laughed so hard her cheeks turned bright red. Faldern smiled broadly and replied:"Son, it's not women who scare us. We just deal with them wisely. Unlike them—they often get swept away by their feelings, whether it's anger or something else. But where did that question come from?"
Before Raegen could answer, Hilda laughed again after taking a sip of water, her voice full of warmth and humor...
"So, where did you get that from? I never expected it at all.""Well, today at the market, I saw a huge man with hands strong enough to break iron, being scolded by his wife who looked like an ant beside him."
Hilda burst out laughing again, unable to hold it back, and while still chuckling she said,"I'm sure she was scolding him about cleaning the house."
Valdern looked at her as if she meant him and said,"For God's sake, when did I ever tire you with cleaning the house?"
"I don't want to remind you how many times you throw your dirty clothes all over the rooms, far from your shoes, and you always enter the house with dirty shoes without caring about the floor's cleanliness... Should I go on?"
Raigen kept watching how the conversation shifted from a simple question to a debate about floor cleanliness, until Valdern's laughter startled him — it sounded like it came from the depths of his heart, loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
This scene made Raigen happy... so happy that deep in his heart, he wished this moment could last forever...
"But eternity... does not withstand the whispers of fate."
Far away, on the next morning, where the warmth of laughter never reaches...In a cursed place, where walls are built from gray stones topped with stained purple banners...In one of the halls sits a man known only in the whispers of rebels: the Curse Manipulator, the owner of crimson eyes...
"He has moved... Valthir has emerged from his shadow."
One of the guards stepped forward:"Shall we begin the movement?"
He passed his tongue over his sharp teeth as if savoring the taste of destruction and said:"No... let him enjoy his false peace."