"Can you believe that? Your son's a damn walking lightning rod with a fancy magic system."
Arlen's voice carried through the yard, warm and half-laughing, as he sat before his mother's grave with a plate of wagyu stake in his lap and knife and fork in his hands.
He waited a beat before widening the grin.
"In just one day, I've beaten Dire Bears, a Lunar Wolf, a Crimson Viper... I don't even remember the rest of the names… You always said I was 'full of sparks but no direction.' Guess you were half right."
The air had cooled, and the fireflies drifted closer like tiny lanterns floating between him and the mound of stones.
"I'm getting stronger, Ma," he murmured. "I even avenged you… just a little. You saw it, didn't you? I hope you did."
The wind answered with a low rustle of the grass.
"Just wait a bit more," he whispered, eyes fixed on the wildflower swaying atop the stones.
"I'll bring you back… don't know the details yet. But I Will Bring You Back."
The night answered with the sound of crickets.
While away from the fireflies and the serenity of Arlen's home.
Windket had never looked this alive.
Torches blazed along the main street, each one burning tall and bright as laughter carried through the air.
The smell of roasted meat and cheap ale mixed with the sweetness of sap smoke.
Someone had even tuned a fiddle, and its uneven melody threaded through the crowd like a heartbeat.
Children darted between legs, waving little scraps of cloth dyed in royal colors.
Old men leaned on canes, smiling wider than they had in years.
Women clutched at each other's sleeves, whispering and giggling between each other what this once in a life time opportunity might bring.
After all, if their kid turned out to have more than 3 circuits, they'd be set for life.
And up on a wooden stage near the old well, Roland Vale, the Chief of Windket, stood tall beneath the flickering torchlight, dressed in his best clothes.
With arms spread wide, he began his speech, "Look at you all!" His voice boomed across the square, proud and ringing. "Windket has never shone brighter! Tomorrow, when the Royal Association sets foot here, they will see what I see now… strength, pride, and promise!"
And thunderous cheers resounded.
Roland smiled, letting the sound wash over him as his chest swelled.
He could feel the hope buzzing through the crowd.
He gestured toward the long tables beside the stage where piles of neatly folded clothes sat waiting: tunics, dresses, and even boots.
"Each of you will take what you need from these. Wear them proudly tomorrow! The Association must see the beauty and discipline of Windket. We may be small, but we are not lesser!"
Another round of cheers followed.
Near the front stood Darran, his son, shoulders square, chin lifted.
The young man's armor gleamed beneath the firelight with the good steel, polished until it caught the moon's reflection.
His eyes burned with something close to hunger.
Roland saw it and allowed himself a small nod.
"This is more than an inspection," he continued, voice steady, almost reverent. "It's a beginning. The Association comes to see what our youth are made of. To find those with strength, with talent, with circuits strong enough to change their families' fates!"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, bright with excitement. Someone called out, "Even three circuits means you can join the army!" Another replied, "Four could get you to the academies!"
Roland raised his hand, smiling as the noise rose higher. "Exactly! Every one of your sons and daughters who's chosen tomorrow… everyone who catches their eye… brings honor not only to themselves but to all of Windket. Even those who don't will walk away with a record, a name on the rolls of the Kingdom! That alone means opportunity!"
The cheer that followed shook the square.
Someone started a chant, "To Windket!" and it caught like a spark in dry hay.
"To Windket! To Windket!"
Roland laughed, lifting a mug himself, letting the warmth of the moment settle into his bones.
For the first time in years, he allowed himself to believe that maybe Windket would finally rise out of its dust.
That maybe this tiny forgotten place had something to offer the Kingdom.
That maybe he'd be moving up in the world.
But even as the music and shouting carried into the night, something cold crawled up his spine.
Behind the smile, the worry remained.
Laro and fifteen of his best men were still missing.
They should have been back hours ago.
[Treasure…] he told himself.
[They must have found something valuable and run off….]
Because the alternative painted an even worse picture.
It would mean there was a creature in that forest this close to the village, and it is capable of killing a team of fifteen Early-Stage Warriors led by a Mid-Stage one.
And that too, a day before the Royal Association's arrival.
The thought alone made Roland's hand tighten around the rim of the mug until the wood creaked.
But no one saw the fear flicker in his eyes. Not Darran, not the villagers, not anyone.
To them, Roland Vale looked every bit the leader he wanted to be.
And tomorrow, when the Royal Association arrived, he would make damn sure that illusion held.