February 16th, 1000
The sun hung low in the afternoon sky, casting a warm glow over the bustling streets of Areslas. Daichi, now eighteen, moved through the crowded market with a practiced ease, a list of groceries clutched in his hand. Over the past two years, he had grown accustomed to the comforts of the Estas Estate, the training sessions with Ralph Estas, and the opulence of his new life. Yet, he had not forgotten the quiet moments of solitude that defined his earlier years.
As Daichi navigated the lively market, his thoughts danced between the fresh produce and various items on his list. His steps were confident, his gaze focused, a testament to the maturity he had gained under Estas’s guidance. The town was alive with the chatter of vendors, the vibrant colours of market stalls, and the tantalizing aromas of spices and street food. It was a stark contrast to the tranquillity of the estate.
As Daichi made his way back, balancing bags of groceries with practiced precision, fate intervened in the form of Koto Dimonk. Koto, a swordsman only a few years older than Daichi, with an air of cold detachment and white hair that stood out in the crowd, accidently bumped into Daichi, sending a few items scattering across the cobblestones.
Koto, not known for his social finesse, reluctantly bent down to help gather the spilled groceries. His gloved hands moved with a precision that hinted at his proficiency with a sword. Koto’s normally stoic expression softened over ever so slightly as he glanced at Daichi, his sharp sliver eyes revealing a flicker of surprise.
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“Apologies,” Koto muttered, his voice low and measured, as he handed Daichi a few wayward vegetables. Daichi, feeling a sense of gratitude, flashed a polite smile, “No worries. Accidents happen.”
Silence lingered for a moment as they collected the rest of the groceries. Daichi noticed the katana strapped to Koto’s side, a weapon worn with the ease of someone who had spent a lifetime mastering its use.
“Where are you taking these?” Koto asked, a rare curiosity in his voice. Daichi hesitated, unsure of how much he should reveal, but eventually, he responded, “Back to the Estas Estate.” Koto’s eyes narrowed slightly, his demeanour shifting ever so subtly. The Estas name held great weight within Rotnar, known for its legendary commander.
“The Estas Estate?” Koto repeated, histone betraying a hint of intrigue. Daichi nodded, adjusting the bags in his arms. “Ralph Estas,” Daichi added, sensing the unspoken question in Koto’s gaze.
Koto, for a moment, seemed lost in thought, as if contemplating something. Then, with an abrupt nod, he gestured towards the direction of the estate. “Guess I’ll help you carry these then,” he stated, a rare offer from a man who usually kept to himself.
Daichi surprised by the unexpected assistance, nodded in gratitude. Together, they walked through the lively streets, the contrast between the reserved Koto and the once isolated Daichi palpable.
As they reached the imposing gates, Daichi turned to Koto with a genuine smile. “Thanks for the help,” he said. Koto, not one for sentiment, simply nodded before disappearing into the town’s bustling embrace. Daichi, with a mix of curiosity and a growing sense of connection, entered the estate.