The sky was slowly turning blue as the first rays of sunlight spilled across the hills. Valen, who had just woken up, stood in front of the door of his small hut. His eyes caught the sight of a broken piece of the wooden fence. With a sigh, he stepped into the storage room beside his home, grabbed a hammer, a few nails, and a fresh plank.
Moments later, he was outside again, working carefully to fix the damage. Half an hour passed. Just as Valen was about to finish hammering the last nail, his mother appeared at the doorway, quietly watching him. Her expression softened—until three riders suddenly approached the hut.
The one in full plate armor dismounted and spoke with authority.
"Greetings, ma'am. We are knights and cavalry under Duke Ramanovich. We ask for a favor. May we trouble you?"
"Ah… well… I suppose I can at least hear your request first," Valen's mother replied nervously.
"Thank you. We have just returned from our mission in Longurio, the capital of the Gooserian Duchy. What we need is food, and the use of your storage house for a few days."
At those words, Valen's mother stiffened. Horror flashed in her eyes. She realized these knights were not ordinary guests—they were spies. If they had truly come on friendly terms, they would have been received at the mansion, not here at an isolated hut.
Valen noticed the change in her expression. His grip on the hammer tightened.
"I… I am sorry, sir," his mother said, her voice trembling. "But I cannot allow you to use our storage."
The knight's tone sharpened.
"Then you leave us no choice. This hilltop hut is the perfect hideout. We will take it—whether you like it or not." He drew his sword with a hiss of steel.
Valen's heart pounded. His mother was in danger. Without thinking, he dashed forward, hammer raised.
SHING!
But before he could reach the knight, his mother collapsed. Blood spilled across the ground.
"Mother!!"
Rage consumed him. Valen roared and slammed the hammer into the knight's chest, knocking him from his horse. Before he could recover, the other two riders charged. Valen snatched the fallen knight's sword, barely blocking the first strike. Steel rang against steel, the weight of the clash almost crushing him.
Desperate, he slashed at one of the horses, sending it stumbling. Its rider toppled to the ground. Without hesitation, Valen thrust the blade into a gap of the man's armor, ending his life. The last rider, seeing his comrade slain, turned tail and fled.
Valen dropped to his knees, breath ragged. The hammer slipped from his hand. His eyes fell on his mother's body, pale and motionless. Cold. Lifeless.
With trembling hands, he carried her inside. He dug a grave behind the hut, the soil damp with morning dew. After laying her gently in the earth, he placed a simple stone marker and knelt in prayer. Tears blurred his vision, but when he stood again, his eyes burned with determination.
"…I will not let this end here."
One of the enemy horses had remained nearby, watching him quietly. When Valen reached out, the beast did not shy away. Instead, it lowered its head, as if accepting him. He mounted the horse, gathered the fallen knight's armor and coin pouch, and tied the sword to his waist.
With that, Valen turned toward Longurio. His path had changed forever.
---
Hours later, the city's walls came into view. At the eastern gate, Sergeant James, still on duty, spotted him.
"Valen? That's odd… you're riding a horse? And what's in your bag?"
Valen hesitated. "This horse belonged to a Ramanovich knight. In my bag—"
James's eyes narrowed. "A Ramanovich? Explain."
And so, Valen told him everything. The broken fence. The three riders. His mother's death. The desperate fight.
When he finished, James let out a long breath. "I see… And now? What do you intend to do?"
"I… I want to join the army, Uncle. I'm fourteen. Old enough, aren't I?"
James chuckled softly, though his gaze was heavy. "You are. What about the armor?"
"There are two sets. I'd like to sell one, and… I want you to deliver the other to Duke Edward. He must be warned."
"Very well. I'll handle it. For you—head to the barracks down that road. Tell the captain I sent you."
Valen nodded, sold one set of armor to a blacksmith for two gold coins, and kept the rest. With James's directions, he found the barracks and approached the guard on duty.
"I wish to enlist. Sergeant James sent me."
The guard glanced at him. "So you're the boy he mentioned. Fine. Sign here. Do you have coin for gear?"
"If I don't?"
"Then the army provides chainmail, sword, and shield. But if you can afford it, you may purchase upgrades."
Valen studied the list. He chose to keep the knight's sword, bought a scale armor for five silvers, an oval shield for three, and a thin dagger for two. A single gold was spent, but his resolve only grew stronger.
"Good eye, boy. Training starts tomorrow. Rest well tonight—you'll need it."
That evening, Valen found a modest inn. For one silver, he secured a room and meals for a week. Lying in the straw bed, he closed his eyes.
Thus ended his last peaceful night.