The sun hung high in the sky, its rays beating down on a boy who worked tirelessly in the fields.
Clang. The hoe struck the damp soil, each sound echoing across the small hill. Sweat rolled down his face, dampening the simple tunic he wore.
"Valen, come here and eat some bread. That's enough for now!"
A woman's sharp yet caring voice called out from the front door of a small hut.
"Yes, Mom!" Valen replied with a smile.
He thrust his hoe into the ground, leaving it upright, and made his way toward the shade of a large tree. Sitting down on a simple straw mat, he bit into the still-warm bread his mother had prepared.
"Hey Valen, Mother has a request for you," she said, stepping closer. "You know our wheat has already been harvested, right? I need you to deliver it to town and sell it. Can you handle that?"
Valen swallowed the bread and puffed out his chest.
"No need to worry, Mom! Leave it to me!"
After finishing his meal and catching his breath, his mother brought out a basket filled with wheat. Without hesitation, Valen lifted it onto his back, adjusting the straps until it sat securely.
"Well then, I'm off, Ma," Valen said with a cheerful grin as he started downhill.
"Take care, Valen!" his mother called after him, waving until he was out of sight.
---
The hours passed, and the sun leaned westward. By the time Valen reached the edge of the fields, the tall walls of the nearby town loomed before him, standing nearly five meters high.
As he approached the gates, a familiar voice called out.
"Hey there, Valen! Back to sell wheat again, I see?"
A soldier in armor greeted him with a grin.
"You know what, Uncle James? At this point, I'm starting to think you're a fortune-teller," Valen replied with a smirk.
James chuckled. "Hah! Enough with the jokes. Come on, I'll walk with you."
Side by side, they entered the bustling streets of the town. Merchants shouted their prices, children darted between stalls, and the scent of fresh bread mixed with iron and leather filled the air. As they walked, Valen's attention drifted to a group of men speaking in hushed but urgent tones.
"Did you hear? There's a rumor that Emperor Charles I is dead," one man whispered.
"What? But the Emperor had no heir, didn't he?" his friend replied.
"Exactly. They say civil war is inevitable."
Valen's steps faltered. Civil war? If that's true… then what about Mother? How can I protect her? I'm just a farmer…
He looked up at James, his voice low but tense.
"Uncle James… is it true? Is there really going to be a civil war?"
James's face hardened. "I'm afraid so."
"But why don't the dukes just hold a vote, like in the old days?" Valen pressed.
The soldier let out a heavy sigh.
"Because one duke—Gregory of Ionburg—has grown too powerful. His lands are vast, his wealth unmatched, and his army second only to the Emperor's. In the past, Ionburg was forced to accept the vote under pressure from the other great houses—Forit, Ramanovich, and Gooserian. But now, with Emperor Charles gone and the Forit lands empty, Ionburg stands at the top.
"And the new Duke of Ramanovich, Franklin III, is an opportunist. He's chosen to side with Ionburg to seize the throne. But Duke Edward of Gooserian knows exactly what Ionburg thinks of peasants. To them, we're nothing but trash. Edward refuses to bow to a tyrant, and so he's raising his banners against Ionburg."
James paused, his eyes narrowing. "And when the time comes, I'll stand with him. I won't let Ionburg's greed trample the people."
Valen walked in silence, his thoughts a storm. So Uncle James will be on the battlefield… and the war really is coming.
---
At last, they arrived at the store. James clapped Valen on the back.
"Here we are, you son of a blacksmith! Go make some coin for your mother."
Valen grinned faintly and went inside. After some haggling, he received his payment and tucked the coins away carefully. With his task complete, he began the journey home.
This war… it's certain now. A hundred percent. If I want to survive with Mother, I'll need strength. Somehow… I'll find a way.
---
By the time he reached the hill, the sky burned orange with the setting sun. His mother stood at the doorway, waving eagerly. Valen lifted his hand in return, a soft smile on his face.
But in his heart, he made a vow.
Whatever happens from now on, I will survive this war. And I will live.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting its last light on the fields. And so began the journey of a farmer who would one day rise to become a monarch.