Siegfried Fors
The day after the auction was quiet, a soft breath after a long sprint. We spent it tying up loose ends. Grandpa left early with Lord Borg, the knights, and a small group of soldiers to inspect the nearby villages. Granny decided to revisit the fields one last time, checking whether the regeneration solution had taken effect.
I found myself in the fruit forest, where the sun scattered in soft dapples through the leafy canopy. The air smelled sweet, touched by ripe fruit and distant flowers. James, Ashar, and Faux were with me, Ashar had been asked to stay behind as a guard, but it felt more like he was watching over us.
I checked the tree whose branch Faux broke, before I sat down on the root of an old tree when James said something unexpected.
"You're coming with us?"
James nodded quickly. "Papa and Mama think I'll learn better with Grandmother Elara and… with Lord Siegfried."
That caught me off guard.
When did the adults decide this? I doubt it was planned from the beginning. Probably something they agreed on after seeing everything unfold. After seeing how James handled himself.
I looked at him again, small and determined.
"Will you be alright without your parents?"
James hesitated. His gaze dropped to the grass at his feet. "I'll miss them," he admitted softly. "B-but I want to become someone strong. That's why I-i'll come with you."
There it was again, his small and quiet resolve. He really was something.
I reached out and gently ruffled his hair. "I see. Welcome to the family, James."
"Thank you, Lord Siegfried."
"Just call me Sieg from now on."
His eyes widened. "But… Mama told me to always use proper titles…"
"It's alright," I said with a small laugh. "Believe me."
He stared at me, hesitant. Then, finally, with a whisper of courage, he said, "Sieg…"
I nodded, smiling. "Right."
He smiled back. It wasn't as bright as the sun, but it felt real, and in that moment, I knew we'd grown a little closer.
"What a friendship," came a voice from a little ways off.
Ashar was seated against a tree trunk nearby, legs stretched out, a half-eaten blar pome in his hand. Faux sat in his lap, lazily tearing into a fruit of his own.
I turned to him. "What about you? What will you do once we head back?"
"Back to watching the gates from the outside. Patrolling roads no one will ever walk again."
I couldn't help but frown.
"So… I won't see you again for a long time?"
Ashar smiled faintly. "That's how it is." He tilted his head. "Will Lord Siegfried miss me?"
I didn't answer right away. My gaze dropped to the roots beneath us.
"…I won't lie. I enjoyed your company. But duty always comes first."
"That's right." He nodded, eyes thoughtful. "Work must continue. But who knows… if luck is on our side, I may serve you more closely in the future."
I glanced at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Ashar simply smiled. "Just a good-hearted wish," he said, gently stroking Faux's back as the little fox devoured his snack.
I leaned back against the tree, resting my head on the rough bark. Above, the sunlight barely pierced the thick canopy. It painted the forest in hues of green and gold, like a dream that refused to fade.
The future, huh?
Let's hope it's peaceful.
Nothing special happened for the rest of the day. Granny and Grandpa wrapped up their work, and by evening, we found ourselves having dinner with the Borg family one last time. We talked about tomorrow's journey, the slow but steady healing of the land, and the nearby villages that were confirmed safe. There was laughter, a little wine, and soft glances that said what words didn't need to.
And just like that, the night passed.
By dawn, we stood at the manor gates, bags packed, horses saddled, and the air thick with the quiet hush of farewells.
"Mama…" James whispered.
I looked at him, his eyes shimmered with tears as he stared down at his feet, jaw clenched tight.
Lady Borg knelt, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Oh, James… We'll come visit you from time to time," she whispered, holding him close as if her warmth alone could protect him from the road ahead.
Lord Borg gently placed a hand on James's head, smoothing down his hair. "Be a good boy, James. You'll be fine, I know you will." He stood, then turned toward Granny and Grandpa.
"Thank you for everything, Lord and Lady Fors." He gave a low, respectful bow.
Granny exhaled, waving her hand as if brushing away the sentiment. "I'm actually tired of hearing that." Her gaze shifted to Lady Borg, still holding James. "Just take care of Clara."
Lady Borg smiled, nodding silently, her eyes soft.
Grandpa stepped forward and laid a firm hand on Lord Borg's shoulder. "Keep your head high and your heart open. That's all you need. The rest will follow."
Lord Borg smiled, the weight in his posture seeming just a little lighter. "I'll remember your words."
"Lord Fors," Captain Tavian called, walking up beside us. "We're ready to depart."
Grandpa gave a nod. "Then let's not delay." He turned to the Borgs once more. "It's time."
"Please have a safe journey," Lord Borg said, extending a hand. Grandpa took it in a firm shake.
Then Lady Borg turned to me. "Young lord," she said gently, her hand resting on James's back. "Please look after him. I know he'll learn a great deal from you."
I nodded. "I will. The only thing you might need to worry about…" I glanced toward Granny. "Is whether she'll be less strict with him than she is with me."
"I can hear you," Granny muttered as she lightly bumped the back of my head with her knuckles.
A small ripple of laughter passed through the group, lifting some of the heaviness.
We climbed into the carriage. Faux jumped on one of the cushions while James took the seat by the window. As the wheels began to turn and the manor gates drifted behind us, he waved at his parents, smiling through teary eyes, watching as they grew smaller and smaller until they vanished over the curve of the earth.
For us, we were heading home.
But for James… this was the beginning of a long road away from everything familiar. The first step of his journey to become something greater than he was.
A better version of himself.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Lark Borg
The morning light poured in through the pale curtains. A bird chirped somewhere beyond the balcony, the kind of song you hear but never fully listen to. For once, there was no weight of duty waiting at the foot of my bed.
And yet… I was awake.
My eyes shifted toward the side of the bed, to the empty space between Clara and me. The sheets there were still faintly crumpled, shaped by memories more than warmth.
He always used to crawl in between us during the night.
I could still feel the little weight of him pressing against my side, his tiny fingers clutching my shirt, his breath slow and steady once the nightmares were chased away.
I sighed.
He wasn't there.
He wouldn't be there again for a long time.
A strange ache tugged at my chest, not the sharp kind that came with fear or regret, but the dull, deep-rooted one that comes only with love.
James…
We did the right thing.
Lady Elara is a strict woman, but she's fair, and Lord Fors is wise beyond words. And that boy, Young lord Siegfried, something about him draws others forward. James will learn far more by their side than he ever could here in my shadow. He's smart, too smart sometimes, and if given room, he'll grow into something far greater than I ever was.
The kind of man this land may need one day.
"Hmm…" Clara stirred beside me, her voice warm and sleepy. "You're awake early." She blinked her eyes open, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You're frowning. What's got you that deep in thought, husband?"
I slowly looked away. "Nothing."
She gave me a half-lidded smile. "Lark…"
"…I might be missing my son," I admitted.
Clara chuckled softly, rubbing her eyes. "You used to complain all the time, 'How are we ever supposed to get a moment of peace with James always squeezing in bed with us?' Remember that?"
I turned toward the ceiling, feeling a heat rise to my face. "That… and this are completely different matters."
Her laughter was soft, teasing, and full of affection. "Of course they are."
Just as I opened my mouth to retaliate with some half-hearted remark, a hard knock slammed against the door.
We both flinched.
Another knock followed, sharper this time.
Then came a maid's voice, muffled but frantic.
"Lord Borg! Lady Borg!"
Clara immediately sat up, already reaching for her robe. I was on my feet the next moment, my heart dropping as the tone in the maid's voice caught up with me.
Clara swung the door open. "What happened?" she asked quickly.
The maid's eyes were wide, her breath short. "T-the farmlands..." she gasped. "They've been—"
I couldn't believe her next words.
Grabbing my robe and throwing it over my shoulders, I brushed past Clara and the maid, my bare feet slapping against the polished floors. Outside, the sun had just risen fully, casting its first golden rays down upon the hillside. Soldiers on patrol greeted me in confusion, but even they looked rattled, some staring off in the same direction with pale faces.
Our manor stood atop a gentle hill, and from its porch, the farmlands stretched wide and clear.
And the moment my eyes landed on them—
I stopped.
"…What in the world…?"
Everything was green.
Every single field. Not just patches, all of them. From end to end, they were full, full, of crops, standing tall and swaying in the morning breeze like nothing had ever happened. Golden wheat danced among rows of ripe vegetables. The soil wasn't black and dead; it looked fresh and rich, as though it had been blessed by weeks of gentle rain.
The barns. The fences. Even the houses at the edge of the fields, they were intact.
I blinked. Once. Twice. Rubbed my eyes.
Clara reached my side, her voice catching in her throat. "What? How—?"
"I… I don't know," I muttered. "Could this be Lady Elara's doing? Her regeneration solution?"
She shook her head slowly, dazed. "No. The potion was meant to accelerate soil recovery, help it breathe again, but even that would take weeks, months before crops could grow. And the crops…" she looked back, eyes wide. "They were gone, Lark. Turned to ash."
She turned to me, her voice trembling slightly. "Something like this… this is beyond human ability."
Down by the lower ridge, I noticed people beginning to gather, farmers, families, children. Many had fallen to their knees, clasping their hands together in stunned reverence.
"It's Aethelhum's doing!" someone cried.
Another voice echoed, "A miracle! The Great Tree has answered us!"
More voices joined, louder this time. "Blessed be Aethelhum! The Cosmic Tree protects us!"
The chant began to spread through the crowd, rhythmic, reverent, growing like a tide.
"Great Aethelhum has blessed our land."
My gaze turned eastward.
Far off on the horizon, veiled in dawn's light, the Cosmic Tree stood. Towering and Eternal. The same as ever. Unchanging and Watching us from afar.
But… was it really Aethelhum?
A prickling sensation crawled up my neck.
"Lark," Clara asked beside me, softly now, "what do you think?"
I had no answer.
I couldn't tell her what this was or what could do such a thing. I was a noble, a baron, a husband and father. I had seen mana, miracles, medicine, and monsters.
But this… this was something else.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I don't know, Clara. I truly don't."
Just then, another maid burst from the manor doors, rushing toward us, breathless.
"Lord Borg!" she called, panicked.
I turned sharply, confusion boiling into frustration. "What is it now?"
She faltered, clearly intimidated, but lowered her gaze and pressed on. "Something's… happened to one of the fruit trees, my lord. In the grove."
My brow furrowed. "The fruit grove? What happened?"
"I-I think you should see it for yourself, my lord…"
I didn't wait.
Whatever was happening today, it wasn't done yet.
In a hurry, Clara and I made our way to the fruit grove behind the manor. The maid rushed ahead and pointed toward one of the trees. "That's the one."
I followed her finger and another unbelievable sight.
The fruit tree that stood before us was supposed to bear blar pomes, small, round fruits with a rich blue skin and faint mana traces inside. A favorite among mages, often fed to magical beasts for mild mana stimulation.
But what I saw now were not blar pomes.
They were golden.
Lustrous orbs of shimmering gold hung from every branch, catching the morning light like gemstones set into nature's crown. Each one seemed to hum faintly, exuding warmth.
"They changed colors…?" Clara murmured beside me, stepping forward, eyes wide.
She moved closer and pulled a fruit.
"Wait, Clara, we can't be su—" My warning came too late and she took a bite.
A rush of mana shimmered around her like a ripple through water. I took a step back instinctively as I felt the surge in her body.
"Clara?" My voice sharpened. "How are you feeling?"
She held out her hand and flames sparked instantly, roaring to life without effort.
"I feel stronger," she said with a shocked laugh. "I feel my magic output increased, and my strength too."
"What?" This was impossible. Blar Pome fruits were known to contain only a little mana, making them a mild treat for mages and magic beasts. Nothing like this.
Just what's going on here?
Clara frowned as well, lowering the flame in her palm. "Lark… do you think this was also great Aethelhum's doing too? But why just this tree? Out of all the grove, only one?"
She was right.
If our farmlands were restored by the Cosmic Tree's divine intervention, then why single out this tree for such a transformation?
It didn't add up.
But then, something stirred in my memory. A boy's voice. Gentle, thoughtful. Unyielding in a quiet way.
"I'd still like to fix this."
For a second, the world spun to a halt, stealing the air from my lungs. My mind grappled, trying to reconcile what I'd just witnessed with everything I thought I knew. It was a realization so profound, so utterly unthinkable, that breathing became a forgotten, secondary concern.
I looked around frantically at the base of the tree, the bark, the roots, making sure the location was the same, my gaze settling on the tree, specifically on the branch that had been reattached just days ago.
I remembered this tree now.. It was the one...
"Lark?" Clara's voice came again. "Did you find something?"
I stared up at the fruit, then down at the healed branch.
A child barely eight, who'd asked me for permission to help. Who had done so without fanfare. Without spectacle.
"I think…" My voice was low, reverent. "I think Lord Siegfried might be responsible for this."
Clara's eyes widened. "Siegfried? But… how could he…?"
"I don't know," I whispered. "But this… this doesn't feel like a miracle from Aethelhum."
I turned my gaze again toward the distant horizon, where the World Tree loomed eternal. For the first time in my life, I felt something else standing tall beside it.
Not a god.
But a boy.
A boy with power blooming quietly, like gold hidden under ash.
And I had just sent my son to walk beside him.
Clara took my hand.
We both stood in silence before the golden tree, its fruit shimmering, its leaves whispering in the wind, as if guarding a secret too great for words. And as the light danced across its branches, I felt it in my bones—
Salvation had passed through this land.