The morning light poured through the cabin windows in soft, golden beams. The rain had left the world freshly washed — the scent of wet grass, tilled earth, and sap lingered in the air.
Roland stirred the pot hanging over the fire, the aroma of vegetable soup filling the home. He hummed softly as he diced carrots and stirred in a few herbs — basil, thyme, and a pinch of crushed leaf from Verdalis, which added a faint sweetness to the flavor.
Behind him, the two young elves still slept on the spare bedding near the wall. Their thin frames and dirt-smudged faces looked a little healthier after last night's meal. Sol dozed nearby, his tail occasionally wagging in his sleep, while Verdalis' leaves shimmered faintly through the open window, humming a soft, tranquil tone that seemed to lull the weary children deeper into rest.
When Roland finished, he ladled the warm soup into wooden bowls and set them on the table. "Wake up, sleepyheads," he said gently.
The boy blinked awake first, his eyes green as forest moss. "Mmh… it smells good."
His sister stirred, rubbing her eyes. "It smells… delicious," she murmured, voice small and fragile.
Roland smiled at that. "Then it's done right."
They ate in quiet contentment, their spoons clinking softly against the bowls. For a moment, the hardships of the world outside didn't seem to exist.
When they finished, the boy bowed deeply. "Thank you, sir. For the food… for letting us stay."
"My names Roland not sir. Im just a farmer."
Roland waved a hand. "No need for that. I was a wanderer once too. You can repay me by helping others someday."
The boy nodded earnestly, and his sister clasped her hands. "We'll bring food back to our village. Everyone's hungry. The crops failed this year, and the fighters and magicians all left to earn money in the main city. There's no one strong left to help the fields."
Roland's eyes softened. He could imagine it — the empty homes, the children and elders struggling to coax life from barren soil.
He glanced toward the door where Brontus stood just outside, his massive form framed by the morning light. The bull's golden eyes glimmered as he watched the scene in silence.
When the elves rose to leave, Brontus suddenly stepped forward, his hooves thudding heavily against the ground. The children froze, staring up in awe and fear at the towering, living creature whose horns seemed carved from ancient wood.
"Little ones," Brontus rumbled, his deep voice resonating like thunder through the floorboards. "Do not walk in fear. The world is vast, and strength is not only in the arm that swings a blade."
The boy swallowed, trembling slightly. "Y-you can talk?"
Brontus dipped his great head, his expression kind despite his size. "I am Brontus — guardian of the fields and the patient earth. You carry hope with you. Protect it well."
The girl hid behind her brother, whispering, "He's scary…"
Roland chuckled quietly. "He's all bark and no bite, trust me. Unless you're a weed."
Brontus snorted, amused. "Be sure to water your courage as you would a seed. It will grow stronger with each hardship you face."
The boy and girl nodded hesitantly, awe replacing fear.
Roland stepped outside, adjusting the Verdant Bracelet on his wrist. The green bands pulsed softly with light, reshaping briefly into the form of a trowel, then a hammer — tools ready for any need. Slung over his shoulder was his enchanted seed bag, filled with potential waiting to bloom.
Corvo had already left earlier that morning, leaving only a single black feather on the porch — sleek, warm to the touch, and humming faintly with stored knowledge. Roland tucked it into his pouch, whispering, "I'll make good use of this, old friend."
He turned to the elves, smiling gently. "Let's go then. You'll lead me to your village."
The boy nodded. "It's a few hours north, past the ridge."
As they started down the dirt path, Verdalis' leaves rustled softly behind them — and for a moment, Roland felt a faint warmth spread through his chest. The young tree's magic brushed against his thoughts, a quiet farewell filled with trust.
Sol trotted ahead, tail wagging. Brontus followed at the rear, each step steady and powerful.
And Roland, with his tools of growth and a heart for mending, set out toward another corner of the world in need of life.
The morning sun broke fully over the hills, spilling light across the fields — and somewhere behind them, Verdalis shimmered faintly, her new skill pulsing through her bark.
From the outside, she now appeared as an ordinary young maple, leaves fluttering softly in the wind.
But beneath that calm disguise, divine energy thrummed — nurtured by blessings of growth from the gods, waiting patiently for the day her roots would reach far enough to touch the edges of the world.