The doors of the tavern of Santa Olaria burst open.
The murmur of the place fractured when a small fox crossed the threshold. He wore a green bandana tied around his neck and a worn leather pouch hanging from his shoulder. His steps were firm, though his paws trembled ever so slightly.
It didn't take long for the stares to fall upon him.
"Hey," the tavern keeper grunted without stopping to dry a glass. "We don't serve animals here."
Fogón stopped in front of the counter.
"I only need to ask a question. Then I'll leave."
"The answer is no."
A few muffled laughs rose from the back.
Fogón took a deep breath. With a quick jump, he climbed onto a nearby table. The sound of wood echoed across the room.
He pulled out five gold coins and held them high.
Their shine captured every eye.
"My name is Fogón," he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "I'm looking for information about a Seiseki stone. I will pay anyone who can tell me where to begin."
The name fell like a stone into a silent lake.
The tavern keeper set the glass down.
"Get down from there."
The silence was more dangerous than the laughter.
"Don't say that word here again," the man whispered, leaning toward him. "If someone hears you, they won't kill you for being a fox. They'll kill you for being stupid."
Fogón felt the weight of their gazes.
Greed.Mockery.Disdain.
The laughter erupted seconds later.
"Listen to the hero!""The Divine Guard has a new recruit!"
Fogón stepped down from the table. He put the coins away. He said nothing more.
When he crossed the door, the laughter followed him into the street.
It doesn't matter if they laugh at me, he thought as he walked through the deserted streets. I will keep my promise, no matter the cost.
Warm tears began to roll down his face.
Maybe today isn't the day. Maybe tomorrow won't be either. But one day it will be… and then everyone will understand the weight of my promise.
The sky darkened quickly, and the freezing wind forced him to clench his jaw to keep moving. He passed several inns, but each one gave him the same answer wrapped in false excuses.
"Sorry, we're full.""We don't accept animals.""Service is suspended."
Fogón lowered his head with every rejection without arguing, though with each step the cold seemed to pierce him deeper.
I understand why they don't want animals nearby, he thought, suppressing a growl.
"But it hurts. It's unfair…"
Finally, after turning a corner, he arrived at a remote alley. There, beneath the dim shadows, he found a miserable-looking hostel.
Shyly, he knocked.
The door creaked open, revealing a man just as neglected as the building itself.
"What do you want here?" the man growled, his voice rough and his breath reeking of sulfur.
"I'm only looking for a place to spend the night. I'm freezing out here."
The man raised an eyebrow, examining him from head to toe.
"I see. I'll tell you something, raccoon."
"I-I'm not a raccoon."
"Shhh," he cut him off with a rough gesture. "Decent people don't want mangy animals sleeping where they rest. No one will take you in. Not even me."
Fogón lowered his head in defeat.
But before he could leave, the man added:
"Although… I do have a place where I store tools. If you pay double, you can stay there."
Fogón clenched his teeth, feeling a knot of helplessness in his chest, but he nodded.
The man led him to the end of the alley and opened a rotten wooden door.
The smell of mold filled Fogón's nose.
"Just one night," he murmured to himself. "Tomorrow things will be better. This is just another trial."
Knowing he was being robbed, he pulled sixty silver coins from his pouch and entered the tiny room.
Inside was nothing but an old straw mattress.
He lay down, trying to sleep, but the cold and fleas quickly reminded him how hostile the place was.
Every bite, every icy draft, reminded him of his loneliness.
At midnight, a thin ray of moonlight slipped through the window.
Unable to sleep, Fogón stood and approached it.
He looked up at the moon with tearful eyes.
He knelt, pressing his fists into the damp floor.
"Lord… you who see everything and know everything… why are you doing this to me?"
His broken voice echoed in the lonely room.
"I wish I understood why I'm not welcome anywhere… why no one cares about me. But… there was someone who cared once. Someone who guided my steps and showed me a path. You, who know everything, must understand what it means to be completely alone. If you won't give me the strength to move forward… then at least allow me to see him again in eternal rest."
Fogón wiped his tears, took a deep breath, and lay down again.
The promise he carried in his heart was the only thing still keeping him standing.
As Fogón drifted into the refuge of night, exhaustion finally closed his eyes, and his mind carried him into a dream filled with magic.
He found himself standing in a meadow of flowers glowing beneath the gentle light of an eternal sun. A warm breeze brushed through his fur, and every flower seemed to sway to an invisible rhythm.
Beyond the horizon, he saw a familiar figure.
Without thinking, he ran across the meadow until he stopped in front of his old friend.
The man wore his inseparable cowboy hat, a poncho that fell elegantly over his shoulders, and a brown shirt that matched his worn leather boots.
"Artur… is that you?" Fogón whispered.
"It is, Fogón. Did you miss me?" the man replied with a wide, warm smile.
"There hasn't been a single day I didn't miss you… Artur. But… if it's really you, that means…" Fogón's voice broke as his ears lowered. "Am I already dead?"
Artur let out a calm laugh.
"No, little friend. Not yet. Don't give up."
"But… without you, everything feels too difficult," Fogón admitted. "I always dreamed of becoming a great warrior like you. But I have to admit it… I've given up more times than I can count. I'm not strong enough to keep the promise I made you."
Artur placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Fogón, that's nonsense. I don't need you to fulfill any promise. I want you to live your life. And if you become a warrior, let it be because you want it… not because you think I expect it."
He paused.
"But let me tell you something. There are things more valuable than power. Something I didn't understand in time… and when I finally did, it was already too late."
Fogón's eyes widened.
"What was it?"
Artur shook his head, his smile turning melancholic.
"That, my friend, you'll have to discover on your own. I believe you will."
He smiled once more.
"Until next time, Fogón. And remember—if you give it your all, you will reach what you seek. That's why I left you my bandana of glory… as proof that you are worthy of wearing it."
With a golden flash, Artur vanished.
The meadow fell silent.
When Fogón awoke, daylight broke the spell of his dream.
He sat on the uncomfortable straw mattress and looked at the green bandana around his neck.
Artur's words echoed in his mind.
What could be more important than power?
With that question guiding him, Fogón walked toward the village determined to find answers.
His first destination was a small inn where he hoped to eat breakfast and perhaps learn something about the Seiseki stones.
But when he entered, the diners' stares pierced him like knives.
He approached the innkeeper.
"Sir, may I—"
"No. You may not," the man interrupted coldly.
"But you don't even know what I was going to say…"
"I don't care. You can't do anything here, so leave."
Fogón closed his eyes, breathing deeply.
Then he turned to the crowd.
"My name is Fogón… I'm here to fulfill my dream. Maybe I'm just an ordinary creature… but I have a dream. A promise. Maybe you think it's a joke… but listen well. One day you will understand the weight of my promise. One day… I will join the Divine Guard."
Silence filled the room.
Then—
Laughter exploded again.
Embarrassed, Fogón walked toward the exit.
But a hand suddenly grabbed him.
"You're brave, little fox…" a sinister voice whispered.
"Th-thanks—"
"Don't answer, or I'll cut your throat."
A knife gleamed before his eyes.
"Leave this place. Wait for me in the alley. And if you tell anyone… you're dead."
With his heart pounding wildly, Fogón left the inn, more intrigued than ever. As he headed toward the indicated alley, a mixture of fear and curiosity took hold of him.
Hours passed, and the sky turned gray as heavy rainclouds gathered. The first drops, light as a whisper, began to fall upon the little fox's soft fur.
Then, like an apparition, the mysterious man emerged from the shadows of the alley.
"Why did you call me here?" Fogón asked in a thin voice, lowering his ears timidly.
"Are you truly willing to do whatever it takes to obtain that gem?" the man replied, his gaze sharp as a dagger.
"I… yes… I'm willing," Fogón stammered, trying to sound determined.
"Good," the man said after an unsettling pause. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but I overheard some soldiers talking about a map that leads to one of those gems."
"Really? Is that true?" Fogón replied, his voice blending hope and doubt.
"Yes. A soldier who was supposed to find it deserted and died shortly afterward. They say that in a few days a mysterious hero, sent by the king, will arrive to take his place. If you act quickly, you might be able to impersonate him and obtain that map before anyone else."
"Thank you very much, but… why are you helping me?" Fogón asked, tilting his head with genuine curiosity.
"You're a joke. You're weak, reckless, and above all, ignorant. People keep telling you that you'll die, and yet you still wander these streets as if something will change someday. I'm telling you all this because I want to see if you're truly capable of changing the way we think about weak creatures like you."
The man stepped away from the fox and added:
"Don't blame me if you die. More than one person has already warned you."
"You're very kind. Please tell me… what is your name?" Fogón insisted.
The man laughed quietly, though his tone remained dry and somber.
"What I just told you is completely confidential. They could kill me for it. So don't even think for a second that I'm going to tell you my name."
"Hehe… alright," Fogón said with a nervous little laugh.
With renewed hope and gratitude, the little fox said goodbye to the enigmatic man and began his journey toward Brisalva.
The clouds slowly began to disperse, and a majestic rainbow lit the horizon, like an omen of the great adventure yet to come.
Night fell, and a fierce storm struck the village of Santa Olaria, wrapping it in chaos of wind and rain.
The tavern remained silent until a sharp creak shattered the calm.
The doors burst open, revealing the figure of a man drenched by the rain, his silhouette outlined by the flickering light of lightning.
"We're closed. You'd better leave," the innkeeper grunted without even looking up.
"I'm terribly sorry. I'm exhausted from traveling, and it doesn't look like the weather will get any better out there anytime soon. Let me stay for a while—at least until the storm passes, alright?" the man replied with a cheerful smile and a light, almost comedic tone.
"Didn't you hear me? I said you—!" the innkeeper began, stopping abruptly when he finally looked up.
Standing before him was a man wearing an immaculate white suit with black details. A leather belt held the sheath of a sword at his side. His hair was as white as snow, and his blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint.
To make matters worse, a peculiar smile rested on his lips—the kind worn by someone who always has the last word.
"Y-you… you're… Bleid, the hero… right?" the innkeeper stammered, tripping over his own words.
"The very same, at your service," Bleid replied with an exaggerated bow, maintaining his carefree demeanor.
"My apologies, sir! I didn't recognize you. Tell me, what brings you here?" the innkeeper said quickly, suddenly nervous.
"I'm just passing through. The king sent me to retrieve a lost map. A deserter had it, or something like that. To be honest, the whole mission feels like a nuisance," Bleid said with a shrug.
"Oh! My apologies for my rudeness. Would you like a glass of beer before continuing your journey, sir?" the innkeeper asked, trying to redeem himself.
"I probably shouldn't…" Bleid began, placing a hand on his chin in a thoughtful gesture. "When I'm working, I usually don't drink."
He paused.
"Although… one glass wouldn't hurt, hahaha. Root beer, please."