The bedroom door burst open, slamming against the wall with a bang that echoed through the cottage.

A tall woman stood in the doorway. Though well into her late sixties, she still carried herself with stubborn determination, leaning heavily on an oak staff. Her wrinkled face twisted with irritation as she glared toward the small bed tucked away in the corner.

"FRIEREM, WAKE UP! YOUR SISTER IS WAITING OUTSIDE!" she shouted, bringing her staff down onto the bed.

Her staff struck nothing but a pile of rocks hidden beneath the blanket.

Then laughter came from above.

"You should see your face right now," a voice said between fits of laughter.

The young man dangled from the wooden beams of the cottage roof, clutching his stomach as he struggled to catch his breath.

"You think this is funny?"

"I think it's a little funny."

Dropping lightly to the floor, he walked over and kissed her on the cheek.

"Mama, sis already left."

The anger on her face melted away, replaced by embarrassment.

"I'm really sorry, sweetie. Can you forgive this blind old lady?" she asked with a small frown.

Frierem smiled softly and took her hand, guiding her downstairs without another word.

After all, this had become a common occurrence. Living with an adopted mother who was both blind and forever haunted by painful memories had taught him patience. Though she often forgot yesterday, and sometimes even who he was, he never forgot who she had always been.

His mother.

The sound of soft humming filled the kitchen. An old woman sat at the table, knitting patiently while waiting for her breakfast. Across from her, a boy no older than sixteen stirred a pot hanging over the fire.

"What is that smell, Frierem?" she asked, laughing nervously.

Frierem glanced at the pot. The handful of wild herbs he'd tossed into the stew gave off a bitter, unpleasant smell.

"I don't smell anything, Mama. Must be the cows outside."

"Hmph," she muttered under her breath, her knitting needles clicking faster. "One of these days, I'm going to give the owner a piece of my mind. Every morning they stink up the place."

A few moments later, Frierem proudly set two bowls on the table.

"Breakfast is served, courtesy of the greatest chef the village has ever seen," he declared, puffing out his chest.

The old woman smiled.

"I'd have to disagree, dear. You're forgetting your sister's marvelous soup."

...

"Yeah," he replied softly.

Silence accompanied the rest of the meal.

After breakfast, Frierem grabbed his straw hat and slipped into his worn overalls.

"Mom, I'm heading out," he said, trying to make his escape before—

"Don't forget your charms," she interrupted.

"They'll keep you safe," she said with a smile.

Her wrinkled fingers carefully fastened several braided bracelets around his wrist.

Frierem sighed, stepping outside into the warm embrace of the rising sun. Birds whistled overhead.

The loud noise of merchants trading and the shuffling of crates filled the dirt roads of the small village.

The boy's demeanor changed. Puffing out his chest, he slammed his rake into the ground and placed one leg in front of the other.

"I will become a great paladin who protects the weak," he said, grinning from ear to ear as he tried to replicate something he had seen.

Before he could continue, an old man tending to a nearby field interrupted him.

"What are you talking about, brat? Get down from there and help me. I'm not paying you for nothing," he said.

"But you're not paying me," Frierem muttered under his breath.

"WhAt DiD yOu SaY???" the old man shouted, cupping a hand to his ear and leaning closer.

Placing a hand over his face, Frierem sighed. Then, lowering it again, he shouted,

"I SAID I CAN'T WAIT TO... spread cow dung around a farm for free," he said with a crooked smile, whispering the second half in rebellion.

"That's the spirit," the old man said, waving for him to join him.

A couple of hours later...

"Boy, quit daydreaming and spread the dung evenly!" he shouted like a banshee.

Clicking his tongue and looking away, Frierem said,

"You won't be talking like that when I become a great paladin," he declared proudly.

The old man let out a snort.

"A paladin, eh? Last month you were going to be a baker."

Frierem frowned.

"That was before."

"Before what?"

"Before I realized kneading dough hurts your wrists."

"And before that?"

"A knight, but that's just a paladin with less reading."

"And before that?"

"A traveling merchant."

The old man chuckled.

But the smile didn't last. For the briefest moment, his expression faltered before he shook his head.

"A paladin, huh..."

He let out a quiet sigh.

"Just don't throw your life away chasing glory."

Before Frierem could ask what he meant, the old man barked out another laugh.

"Good. Your bread nearly killed me. Maybe you'll have better luck fighting monsters."

By the time the last basket had been loaded onto the wagon, the afternoon sun hung high overhead. Frierem climbed aboard beside the old man as they made their way toward Quietmarch. The familiar smell of fresh bread and livestock greeted them long before the market came into view.

The bustling streets echoed with noisy merchants trying to sell anything and everything before moving on to the next customer.

"Fresh apples! Two copper a piece!"

"Get your wool here first! Finest wool in Quietmarch!"

"Three loaves for a copper! Your gain is my loss!"

A young boy ran through the crowd carrying a tray of pastries.

"Honey buns! Still warm!"

"Who keeps stealing my chickens?!" shouted one man.

"Your chickens keep stealing themselves!" another yelled back.

Frierem's eyes wandered across the market, passing hanging meat and cages full of animals before stopping at something that caught his eye.

It was the sight of a small boy being bullied by a group of men, each holding something odd while screaming at him.

"This crap does nothing!" an old farmer shouted, waving a twig covered in strange ink.

"My child is still sick!" an elderly woman cried, clutching a bundle of chicken feathers covered in scribbles.

"I want my money back!" the mob shouted in unison.

A small-looking boy stood in the middle of the chaos, frantically trying to calm the angry crowd, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. He couldn't have been older than twelve. Small and slight, with messy brown hair hidden beneath an oversized cap.

"Please, just let me explain!" he pleaded, clutching a bundle of charms tightly against his chest.

"They worked yesterday! I swear they did!"

"They didn't work!" the farmer spat. "You tricked us!"

"I didn't! I'm not lying!" the boy shouted back, his voice cracking despite trying to stand his ground.

Desperate, he grabbed one of the charms and held it high.

"Look! The ink is still fresh! It hasn't even activated yet!"

"Liar!" someone in the crowd yelled.

The shouting only grew louder.

Frierem watched.

He listened to the accusations.

He saw the fear in the boy's eyes.

Frierem reached his boiling point as the scene unfolded before his eyes, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists.

Would a paladin let something like this happen...?

"Look away, kid. It's not our problem."

A man pushed his way to the front, raising his fist, ready to strike the boy.

Frierem had finally had enough.

Then—

BANG

Something wet and chunky struck the man.

"What the—"

Before anyone could react, another lump splattered into the crowd, blinding several people.

"Who threw that?!" one of the women in the angry mob shouted.

Suddenly, before anything else could be said, the sound of cages crashing open echoed through the market.

"Cluck!"

"Moo!"

"Baa!"

Chickens, goats, and even a panicked sheep burst into the streets. Chaos erupted as merchants shouted and people scrambled to avoid the stampede.

In the middle of the confusion, a young boy rushed forward. Grabbing the frightened child by the arm, he pulled him to his feet.

"Come on!"

Without waiting for an answer, the two bolted through the crowded streets.

"THERE THEY ARE!"

"GET THEM!"

The pair sprinted out of town and into the forest, branches scratching at their clothes as they ran deeper and deeper between the trees.

Only after what felt like an eternity did they finally slow down.

Out of breath, they collapsed onto the carpet of fallen leaves and stared up at the sky through gaps in the trees above.

Neither of them spoke.

Both simply lay there, gasping for air, wondering what in the world had just occurred.

"What just happened?" the young boy said.

"I saved your life, that's what happened."

A look of disbelief crossed the young boy's face.

"What? I wasn't going to die, and the name's Runa," he said, lying on the ground, gasping for air and sweating.

"The name's Frierem, and a 'thank you' would be nice," he said, breathing heavily.

"Thank you for what?! What exactly am I supposed to do now when I return to the village?"

"...I didn't think about that," Frierem said, trying to laugh while still out of breath.

"You are such an idiot."

"Says the person scamming people," Frierem said, giving him a dirty look.

"I don't need a lecture from a fool covered in mud."

"It's actually cow dung..." Frierem said, looking away, trying not to see his expression.

"..."

"Pig," Runa said in disgust, shifting away from him to avoid the smell.

"I just told you," Frierem said before being interrupted by the howling wind and the eerie noises of the forest.

"Where exactly are we?" Runa asked anxiously.

Both sat up from the ground, looking around at the vast expanse of tall trees with their carpet of fallen leaves stretching endlessly in every direction.

"In a forest?" Frierem said, looking around before being hit by a rock thrown from behind him.

"What was that for?!" he shouted, rubbing the back of his head where the stone had struck him.

"I didn't mean that, doofus. I meant where exactly are we in the forest?" Runa said in a slightly more aggressive tone.

Frierem rubbed the back of his head.

"I don't know. Somewhere in the forest?"

Runa opened his mouth to insult him again but paused.

"...Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Exactly."

Frierem frowned.

The howling wind had stopped.

No birds chirped overhead.

No insects buzzed.

Not even the rustling leaves made a sound.

The forest floor, covered by a carpet of fallen leaves, stretched endlessly between towering trees and rolling hills.

Yet it felt...

Still.

Too still.

Frierem swallowed.

"Runa."

"What?"

"I think we're lost."

Runa stared at him.

"No, genius."

He slowly rose to his feet.

"I think we're being watched."