[X776, somewhere in the Kingdom of Fiore]
"This map is a liar."
Talon Solhart scowled down at the paper, holding it by the corners like it had personally offended him.
The forest trail stretched endlessly ahead, muddy, crooked, and very much not the 'Main Southern Route' he'd confidently circled in red three days ago.
He glanced up, then back at the map, then up again. The trees here loomed a little too close, like they'd crept inward when he wasn't looking.
"…Unless this is the main road," he muttered, narrowing his eyes. "And they just forgot to draw in the swamp. Or the slope. Or the smell."
A suspicious squelch sounded as his boot sank into yet another patch of mud. He stared down at it, defeated. "I'm starting to think civilization is a myth."
He was a twelve year old child with the look of someone freshly peeled out of the wilderness, with sun-kissed skin, and a mess of orange hair tied into a loose, short braid that flopped against his shoulder when he moved.
His coat—simple, travel-worn, and one size too big—hung from him like a secondhand promise.
He didn't carry a weapon.
Talon stopped at a crooked signpost—rotted, illegible—and turned the map sideways. Then upside down. Then sideways again.
He squinted. "If I'm here," he said aloud, pointing to a smudge that might've once been a town, "then that hill should be… behind me. Which would mean… I've been walking the wrong way for—"
He paused, looking up slowly.
"… No. No, this is the part where the brave traveler faces adversity with dignity."
He cleared his throat, straightened his back, and set his jaw like he'd seen a knight do on a book cover once. Then, louder: "My journey will not be deterred by such trivial inconveniences!"
The trees didn't seem impressed.
A beetle crawled across the edge of his map.
Talon swatted it off, then sighed and tried again, shifting to a more heroic pose—one leg forward, chin lifted. He held the map out like it was a proclamation from the king.
"I shall forge ahead," he declared, "and meet whatever lies ahead with courage, cunning, and—"
A branch snapped behind him.
Talon yelped and immediately tripped over his own foot, landing in the mud with a graceless splorp.
Voices followed. Laughter.
"Well well," came a drawling voice from the trees. "Looks like we found ourselves a lost little duckling."
Talon pushed himself up on his elbows, blinking as three men stepped into view—rugged, poorly shaved, and dressed like every low-level bandit he'd ever read about. One even had a spiked club. A spiked club. It looked wildly impractical.
The tallest one leaned on his axe and grinned, crooked teeth showing. "You know this trail ain't safe for kids, right?"
Talon froze. This was it. His first real encounter with scoundrels. He stood quickly, brushing mud off his coat. His heart was pounding—but not entirely from fear.
He cleared his throat.
"Villains," he began solemnly, "I offer you this one chance to stand down and let me pass unscathed."
There was a pause. Then they burst out laughing.
"Oh no," one of them wheezed. "We got a hero."
"I read about this," Talon muttered under his breath, adjusting his stance. "This is the part where they ask me to hand over everything!"
Sure enough, the one with the club took a step forward. "Kid, just drop your stuff. You're lucky we're in a generous mood—"
Talon raised a hand.
The air stilled.
A ripple—faint, like heat off stone—spread from his palm.
"Conversion," he said softly.
Blue light pulsed along his fingertips, drawn from the latent magic in the air.
His body tensed—shoulders sharp, feet planted. Energy folded into itself, condensed, twisted into shape.
In the blink of an eye, a narrow blade of solidified mana snapped into existence in his right hand.
The bandits stopped laughing.
The leader squinted. "What the hell—"
"—he's a mage!" one of the others cut in, stumbling back a step.
''I have heard about this…!'' The man with the club stepped back half a pace. "It's Requip!"
Talon tilted his head. "Requip?"
He gave the blade in his hand a thoughtful glance. "Oh! My master talked to me about that magic once. It's not tha—"
He stopped himself, eyes widening slightly. Then, shaking his head, he muttered, "No. No, wait. I almost forgot. Explaining your magic is what villains do. I've read about that. It never ends well."
He straightened up again and spoke. "Let's just skip to the part where I win."
The bandits hesitated, caught somewhere between baffled and alarmed.
"Get him!" the leader snapped.
The one with the club lunged first, swinging wildly, and Talon ducked low, sliding in under the arc of the strike. The bandit was open, but he didn't slash at him, he spun and smacked the flat of his blade against the man's shin with a whap.
The bandit howled and toppled over backward into a bush.
The second man—stockier, but unarmed—roared and charged in, aiming to tackle Talon by the shoulders. "You little—!"
The kid stepped to the side at the last second and let the man stumble past, and as he did, Talon jabbed the guard of his sword into the man's ribs.
"Ungh—!"
Then, in one smooth motion, he swept his leg behind the man's knee and kicked it out from under him. The bandit flailed, arms windmilling before he collapsed into the mud with a pathetic whimper as well.
And then came the leader.
The last bandit gritted his teeth and charged, axe raised overhead. "You little punk—!"
Talon didn't move.
He waited until the last possible moment, then shifted just enough to let the axe whistle past his shoulder. As the bandit stumbled from the miss, Talon stuck out his leg—
The man tripped over it with a loud "WAH—", and landed face-first on top of his comrades.
There was a beat of silence.
Talon rested the flat of his blade across his shoulder as he turned to look over his shoulder.
"I told you to run," he said.
The only response was a groan from the pile of mud-caked limbs behind him.
Talon turned back to the path, brushing a bit of dirt from his sleeve and letting the blade dissolve into fading wisps of blue. Opening his map which was tucked under his arm again, he frowned at it.
"…Still don't know where I am, though."
A thought struck him.
He glanced at the pile.
Then he crouched—suddenly, quietly—right next to the bandit with the least amount of bush and mud sticking out of his hair. The man blinked, startled to find Talon's face only inches from his own, upside down and smiling politely.
"Hi."
The bandit flinched. "Gah—!"
"Quick question," Talon said, chipper. "Am I still in Bosco? Or did I maybe, possibly, hopefully cross into Fiore sometime yesterday without noticing?" The man stared at him, wide-eyed, clearly debating whether it was too late to pretend he was unconscious.
Talon leaned in closer. "It's important."
"…Fiore," the man croaked. "You're in Fiore."
Talon exhaled in relief. "Then according to this map—" he flipped it around to show the man a wrinkled, mud-streaked corner "—this trail is supposed to be the Main Road. But I have a few… slight doubts."
"That—uh. That's not a road," the man muttered. "That's the old merchant path. Got shut down years ago. Bandits, forests and swamp and, y'know… more bandits."
"Well that explains the ambiance." Talon frowned. "So if I wanted to get to the real road—"
"Northwest. Like… two hills that way. You'll hit a stream, follow it left."
"Perfect! Thanks." He stood up and gave the man a cheerful pat on the shoulder, which made him wince.
"Oh, one more thing!" Talon turned back. "You wouldn't happen to know of any, uh, guilds, would you? Maybe near the area I'm totally not lost in."
The man hesitated. "… Guilds? You mean a Wizard Guild, like Phantom Lord?"
"Hm… That's not very heroic-sounding," Talon tilted his head. "If I was naming a guild, I'd go with something more… y'know. Hopeful. Inspiring. Not… 'Phantom Lord.' That sounds like it comes with dramatic lightning and betrayal."
The man, perhaps wisely, said nothing.
"Any others?"
"Uh…" He seemed to think hard. "How about… Fairy Tail?"
Talon's eyes lit up immediately. "Fairy Tail?" He repeated it like it was the most charming combination of words he'd ever heard. "See, now that's more like it. Whimsical. Magical. Definitely a guild with friendly vibes. Where is it?"
The bandit scratched his cheek, smearing a bit of dirt across it. "It's towards the southeast, in Magnolia Town."
Talon paused. He turned, looked at the hills the man had pointed to earlier, then slowly turned back around. "…Didn't you just tell me to go northwest?" He held up his map again, turning it sideways. "Isn't that, like… the complete opposite direction?"
"Well, yeah," the man said. "The main road's that way."
Talon squinted at him. "So there's no way to get to Magnolia from this path?"
"I mean… you could follow it," the man said slowly. "There's a branch that hooks even further south through the forest. Not many people take it, though. Too many bandits." He trailed off, eyeing Talon oddly.
"…Though, seeing what just happened here… you probably won't have much trouble with that..."
Talon grinned. "Mmhmm."
The man cleared his throat. "Still. There's beasts, too. Big ones. Real nasty."
Talon's eyes shimmered like twin suns. "Beasts?"
"Yeah, like monsters. Things with teeth and claws and—"
"Bandits and beasts? On the way to a possibly legendary wizard guild?" he whispered, no longer listening to the defeated bandit. "It's like fate wants me to be a hero."
The bandit looked vaguely concerned. "… You're weird."
"I'm heroic." Talon corrected brightly, tucking his map away again. "Thanks for all the help!"
[Two days, six almonds eaten straight from a tree, and a suspicious number of angry squirrels later.]
Talon stood at the edge of a steep overlook, clutching a branch with one hand like it might anchor him to reality. Below him, stretched out the biggest town he had ever seen in his life. "...Is that a cathedral?" he muttered, voice flat with disbelief.
He took a step back. Then another. Then a half step forward like he didn't trust the town not to notice him staring. There were canals slicing through the city, a large lake and—he squinted—what was that big building in the distance?
Talon's eyes darted from the tightly packed houses to the roads to the enormous, ornate building dead in the center of town. "Okay," he said slowly. A beat passed. "No pressure," he added to no one.
And then he turned away from the view to compose himself, only to trip on a rock and nearly fall off the cliff. He windmilled, cursed under his breath and immediately sat down before he could embarrass himself further in front of the squirrels.
Yes, the squirrels were still following him. They were really persistent.
Talon finally stood, brushing the dust from his pants like dignity could be wiped back on.
The path down from the overlook curved along the edge of a rocky hill, weaving between dry brush and low trees. It wasn't steep, but he took it slow. He adjusted the old leather strap on his shoulder, shifting the weight of his worn travel bag.
That was all he had left. That, and the trail behind him.
It took the better part of an hour, but eventually, the dirt path flattened into packed stone. The edge of the town greeted him not with gates or guards, but with a cluster of houses, some with open windows and clean laundry fluttering from balconies.
He blinked. The air smelled like bread.
A girl about his age ran past chasing a dog, laughing. A man on a ladder called out a warning to someone below, but he didn't quite catch what the warning was about. No one looked at him twice.
And somehow, that made it worse.
He adjusted his braid self-consciously and kept walking, stiff-backed, pretending he belonged. Every few seconds, his eyes flicked around for that massive building he'd seen from above, the one with the red roof.
In a town this big, something that obvious had to matter.
Maybe that was where he'd start.
[Magnolia Town, Central Path]
Talon hadn't realized how much hunger he was feeling until his stomach made a sound loud enough to startle a pigeon.
He froze mid-step, one boot already half over the edge of the cobbled walkway. A dozen smells swirled in the air—savory, sweet, grilled, baked—each one more criminally enticing than the last.
Somewhere nearby, something sizzled. His head turned on instinct.
The next thing he knew, he was standing way too close to a stall with steam rising off rows of skewers. Meats glazed in sauce, vegetables roasted to a shine, and something yellow and doughy puffed up on flat stones behind a thin screen. He didn't remember walking over.
The man behind the counter raised a brow. "You lost, kid?"
Talon opened his mouth to reply, but instead he heard his stomach growl again. He clenched his jaw, face heating up. "I'm fine," he muttered quickly, already half-turning to leave before he embarrassed himself further.
But a voice cut through the street noise.
"Two of the usual, Rolto. One for me, and one for the kid with the braid who looks like he hasn't eaten in three days. And extra sauce this time, last time you skimped."
Talon turned his head. The man who had spoken was walking up with an easy smile. He was young—twenties maybe—with short dark blue hair.
The stall owner gave a snort but started plating without protest. "You always say that, Macao."
Talon blinked.
The man handed over one of the skewers Rondo had finished, holding it out like it wasn't a big deal. "Eat."
Talon blinked again.
Macao tilted his head. "What, you don't like pork?"
"No, I—" Talon hesitated, eyeing the food like it might vanish. "I just don't know who you are."
The man shrugged. "Just a guy who bought you lunch."
[Magnolia Town – Riverside Bench]
Talon tore into the second skewer like he'd been cursed to starve and was trying to outpace the magic. Macao sat beside him on the bench, legs stretched out, elbow resting casually along the backrest, watching the kid eat with mild concern.
The orange haired kid had finished his own portion in three bites as Macao was just about to begin his, but when the man saw the way the boy kept glancing at the empty stick like mourning, he handed his over without a word.
Talon didn't question it. Just muttered something that might've been "thanks" with his mouth full and kept going.
Macao let the silence sit for a while.
"So," he said eventually, "Do you have a name?"
Talon paused, swallowed, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Talon."
"Talon," Macao echoed, nodding. "Alright. Are you from around here?"
Talon gave a short shake of his head. "Bosco."
"Bosco, huh." Macao gave a low whistle. "You're a long way from home, kid."
Talon didn't answer. He rubbed at his wrist and looked off to the side like he wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a question or not.
Macao followed his gaze for a second, then turned back. "Do you have people here? Family?"
"No."
"Friends?"
"... Not really."
Macao frowned faintly. "How old are you?"
"Twelve."
"Twelve," Macao let out a low breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Twelve, from Bosco, alone." He scrubbed a hand through his hair with a frustrated sound. "You didn't just hop on a trade cart and hope for the best, did you?"
Talon shrugged. "Not exactly."
Macao didn't press further. He leaned back against the bench with a sigh, tapping his fingers once against his leg like he was trying to piece together a puzzle with missing corners.
He didn't want to be rude. But—
"Okay. So what are you doing here, Talon?"
The question hung in the air for a beat too long.
Talon looked straight ahead.
"I'm here to join Fairy Tail."
Macao blinked.
It was such a clean, matter-of-fact statement that for a second, he wasn't sure he'd heard right.
"You're... here to what?"
"Join Fairy Tail," Talon said again.
Macao opened his mouth like he had something to say, then closed it again when Talon kept talking.
"My master said a guild was the best place for me to grow." Talon's tone shifted slightly like he was reciting something he'd been told more than once. "Said there were lots of guilds in Fiore. Big ones. With other strong wizards."
He paused, glanced down at the empty stick in his hand, then gave a small shrug. "I didn't really know where to go. Just figured I'd start somewhere."
"So you picked Magnolia?"
Talon gave a quick nod.
"I asked someone about guilds after I crossed the border. They mentioned… Phantom Lord and Fairy Tail. Said Fairy Tail was here in town. They were even nice enough to give me some directions."
"... When I got here, I saw a building with a big red roof. It looked important, so… I figured if I kept heading toward it, I'd get there."
"And did you?"
"No." Talon looked mildly betrayed by this fact. "I got closer, but then everything looked the same.'' He groaned, muttering under his breath, "Ever since I ran into those squirrels, my luck's been terrible.''
''... Oh, I wouldn't be so sure.'' Macao let out a short laugh.
He rolled up the sleeve of his right arm and flexed just slightly, revealing the deep blue Fairy Tail mark stamped on his bicep. "Seems like your luck's doing just fine, kid. After all, it led you straight to a member of our guild."