A nineteen-year-old boy pushed in some coal into a burning fire. He could have used a stick, but preferred his hands as the ultimate tool for such a reflex job.
When he placed a coal, he would take a step back to stare at the fire, seeing if it still continued burning, and if not, the same cycle would continue.
In the small room, an old man watched him work, while at the same time weaving a basket which had just few moves left until completely finished.
The old man cleared his throat, "Valtor, I finally sold the remaining corns and made few coins, which I used for your tuition fee in the Divine academy."
The boy turned to face the old man, "Grandpa!," His eyes wide with surprise, "When did you—"
"You are under Master Gap, a friend of mine, trustworthy till the end," The old man said finally completing the basket, before looking at his grandson, "Valtor, I guess that's your birthday present. When the Snow finally melts, by next month, you would resume the Divine Academy, and stay with Master Gap, do—"
Before he could finish his words, Valtor had threw an entire bodyweight on him, hugging the old man almost to death.
"I won't fail! I swear it!."
Valtor had always wanted to enroll in the Divine Academy since nine when his parents died.
He heard of it as a prestigious school for the gifted, and with a strength worth a hundred years training at the tip of his fingers, his grandfather, Burnwood, had seen it as a training worth refining, when he first took Guardian title.
And since then, he had been saving one or two coins, and for ten years straight, he was able to fill up the saving box.
He would do anything in his power to see his grandson become someone he never had the chance to be.
"Okay, Valtor," Burnwood patted his grandson's back, wheezing for air when released. "I... I made the basket for the charcoal. Help me deliver some to Mr Zo and the rest to his brother, Go."
Valtor didn't wait to hear more. He knew where the charcoal was kept, and without any hesitation, he snatched the basket, flunged open the door, and slammed it shut.
Not waiting for his grandfather's last words, which was mumbled, "Meet the seamstress at the end..."
The Old man lips formed a thin line, as he waited for some minutes, when he heard the footsteps of his grandson crushing against the snow, getting fainter, and when he couldn't hear it again, he got up and walked straight to his room.
"Where did I keep that thing...," He moved to look under the bed just opposite the door, shifting away a large box from some free planks of wood.
Carefully lifting those away, he dipped his hands into the hole, bringing out a small item wrapped up with an old cloth.
"I wonder when I would give you this, V—"
Suddenly the Man pocketed the item, and turned behind him, sensing another presence in the room.
He wasn't wrong.
His eyes followed a large hellish sword, held by a figure standing by the door.
A figure worth not fighting.
"Who are you?" Burnwood asked.
"Where is the boy?!"
Burnwood frowned at the question. "Why have you come for my grandson?"
The figure raised his sword at the old man, a deep voice resounding from his throat, and red eyes glaring deep into Burnwood's soul, "Where is he? Where is the Fifth Monarch? Speak or die!."
Burnwood frown furrowed deeper, he stood up straight, feets wide apart and fists clenched tightly. He released an overwhelming amount of aura, one which spread across the mountains, then said, "I have learnt the art of fighting since my days, don't take me for a weak helpless old man! You will not take my grandson! And I'll bury your legacy, six feets underground!."
The figure eyes narrowed, "Let's see if you've honed your skills enough to fight a god!."
At this moment, Burnwood eyes went wide in surprise, when the swift speed of the sword moved towards him.
"You are no man! You're no god! Who are you?.." He asked the figure before the sword slashed through.
.....
Valtor bowed in respect after leaving the house of Mr. Zo. He had gotten a sweet from the man's wife, and threw this in his mouth before turning to the next direction.
Ticking his tongue against the large ball of condensed sugar, he arranged the sweater around his neck, before securing the stripes of basket on his shoulder.
The winter would soon come to an end, but the cold persisted further. And, having trekked all the way from the mountain top where his grandfather choosed to build a cottage, the cold had given him frozen feets.
"Okay, one last delivery, then I'm back home," He dusted down some snow from his trousers, "I wonder what Grandpa would cook? Oh! I'm sure it would be meatloaf and hot spicy soup!."
He happily stamped his feet as a child would do, before racing further into the village.
The Main Capital was about a day's journey from the village, and the exact location where the Divine Academy was located.
However, the Village took a secluded amount of space from the main Capital, but had all it ever wanted within; From the busy market where Valtor just passed through to get to Mr. Zo's brother's house, to the small trade spot, filled with lots of fruits.
Now be it winter, the Village grounds were mostly covered by thin layers of snow, and the air, freezing to the lungs.
All these parts defers from where Valtor last dropped his delivery at the house which wasn't so cold, all thanks to burning some coal at the entrance of the building, probably for the reason of warmth.
Valtor raised his hand to knock on the door; Once, Twice and Thrice, before calling out the man's name, but, no response.
He did peep through some space of the wooden door, to see if anyone was around.
However, nothing to be seen, just a burning lamp showing the main living room.
Without wasting another time, he threw the basket around his shoulder, "Maybe they are out, I'll come back later in the evening." He said to himself, before rushing away.
He however did not see the spattered blood on the floor.