That night, Otter sat by the riverbank, the invitation and Erin’s notebook resting on his lap. The city lights twinkled across the water, reflections rippling with each soft wave.
“Report to the city gates of Brighthaven at dawn on the 10th day of the Harvest Moon.” That was three days from now. This was the opportunity he’d wanted all his life. The chance to become an adventurer—no, a hero. So why were his insides all twisted up over it? He should be ecstatic. He should still be jumping up and down with joy! But as the day wore on, the glee had been replaced with something else: Fear.
He traced the edges of the notebook’s leather cover, his fingers brushing over the embossed compass. Otter opened the notebook to a fresh page and began writing.
Questions I Have:
Why me?
What do they see that I don’t?
What if I fail?
He stared at the words, tapping his pencil against the paper.
Finally, he wrote a new heading:
What I Know:
I’ve got Luck.
I’m good at finding paths.
I’ve always wanted to be more.
He paused, his thoughts swirling.
But what if that’s not enough?
And there it was: the root of his fears. What if he wasn’t enough? He’d been trying to convince everyone around him for years that he was just as good as anyone with a class, but his biggest critic was still himself. No matter how big a game he talked, no matter how many races he won, in his heart, he knew he’d never amount to anything without a class.
And yet...
The Academy had invited him to join. Somehow, they saw potential in him. Erin had believed in him, too. So did his mother.
Did he believe in himself?
He put pencil to paper a final time.
I will be good enough.
He underlined the word “will” several times. To him, that was important. Maybe he wasn’t good enough yet, but this was an opportunity for growth, to become more. The Academy wasn’t an end goal. It was a place of learning, just like those courses he sat in growing up—where he learned the basics of reading, writing, and arithmetic. It was required four hours a day from age five to twelve.
The Academy will be no different. Well, it will be a lot different, but the same basic principle. Work hard, apply yourself, get better.
That thought made him feel better, a little less scared. Determination would see him through.
Later that night, Otter quietly pushed open the door to his small home. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The smell of stew lingered in the air, but the pot had long since cooled.
Otter was about to head to his room when a quiet sound stopped him in his tracks.
A sniffle.
Peering into the shadows, he saw his mother sitting at the table, her head bowed, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her shoulders trembled.
“Ma?” Otter said softly.
Marla quickly wiped her eyes and sat up straighter. “Oh. You’re back.” Her voice was light, almost too cheerful. “I thought you’d gone straight to bed.”
Otter stepped closer, watching her carefully. “Ma, what’s wrong?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t mind me. Just being silly. It’s nothing.” She sniffled again.
Otter frowned, pulling out a chair and sitting across from her. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”
His mother sighed, her shoulders slumping. “It’s just… motherly worry, that’s all. You’ll be leaving soon. Too soon for a mother to wrap her head around it. Much less her heart. It’s a big change.” She offered a small smile. “I’m going to miss you.”
Otter studied her face, his heart tightening. He hadn’t considered how the invitation would affect his mother. If he left, she’d be all alone. She’d lose the extra income he made from doing odd jobs around town.
“I don’t have to go,” he said quietly, feeling guilty.
Her gaze hardened momentarily, then softened again. “Of course you’ll go. It may be my prerogative to worry, but not to stand in your way. Otter, the day you were born, your father said something that I’ve tried to live by all these years. ‘Marla,’ he said. ‘A parent’s job is teach their children to not need them.’ I think I’ve done a pretty good job of that.”
His father wasn’t a topic they talked about often. He’d asked about him a few times over the year, but she always looked so sad afterward.
But since she’d broached the topic...
“You know, you never told me what happened to my father. I think I’d like to know now.”
Marla looked away and was silent for a long time. Otter could tell she was trying to sort through her thoughts. But finally she spoke with a trembling voice.
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“He left Brighthaven on an adventure. He wanted to be a hero, just like you.”
Otter swallowed hard. “What happened to him?”
Marla looked down at her hands. “He never came back.”
Otter knew that much, of course. He’d found the letter tucked behind a piece of siding on the house. Which was a really strange place to leave a letter, but he’d never told his mother about it. Maybe he should have.
She must have seen something in his expression because she said,
“Don’t be angry with him, son. I’ve been angry enough for the both of us. But the decision to leave wasn’t his to make alone. He left with my blessing. His intentions were noble. And he wasn’t supposed to be gone very long. You weren’t supposed to grow up without a father. I don’t know what happened. Maybe he’s still out there. Maybe he’s… gone. I think something bad happened. Otherwise, I’m sure he would have returned to us. But I never found out. And that’s what scares me, Otter.” She reached across the table and took his hand. “I’m afraid I’ll lose you the same way.”
Otter squeezed her hand tightly. “Ma…”
“I know you’re smart,” Marla said, her voice steadying. “I know you’ve got more sense in your head than most people twice your age. But the world out there is dangerous. And even the smartest people can’t predict everything.”
Otter nodded slowly. “I’ll be careful.”
Marla smiled faintly. “I know you will. But that doesn’t mean I won’t worry.”
Otter looked down at the table, his mind swirling. For so long, he’d seen his father’s absence as a mystery—a story without an ending. Now he understood it was also a warning.
“I’m not going to disappear,” he said firmly. “I’ll write to you. Every chance I get.”
Marla’s smile softened. “You’d better.”
They sat in silence for a while, the fire crackling in the hearth.
Finally, Otter stood, pulling the invitation from his pocket and placing it on the table between them.
“This is what I want,” he said quietly. “I need to see what’s out there. I need to know if I can be more.”
Marla nodded, her gaze lingering on the letter. “I know. And I’ll be here, whenever you come to visit.”
Otter hugged her tightly, feeling the warmth of her embrace and the strength in her arms.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Make your own path,” his mother said, her voice strong. “And don’t let anyone—System or not—tell you who you are.”
***
The days before Otter’s departure passed in a blur of quiet tasks and lingering goodbyes.
There wasn’t much to pack. He owned little in the way of truly valuable possessions—a few changes of clothes, his old tattered journal, Erin’s leather notebook, and the carved wooden compass his mother had given him on his twelfth birthday.
Everything he needed fit neatly into a weathered satchel. It was sturdy, made of thick canvas with reinforced straps, the kind dockworkers used to haul supplies. He tied the flap down with a length of twine to keep it from flapping open.
Packing took less than an hour. The rest of his time was spent preparing for something more important: making life easier for his mother while he was gone.
Otter woke early each morning, well before dawn, and set about his chores. He cleaned the house from top to bottom, swept out the corners that often went neglected, and scrubbed the hearth until it gleamed.
The old, creaky windows that never quite latched? He fixed them.
The loose board on the back step that Marla always tripped over? Replaced it. When he finished, his wrisplay flashed with a notification.
New skill acquired: Handyman Novice- Lvl 1
You have learned how to make minor repairs around the house.
He cleared the notification and continued with his work.
He even went down to the docks to barter for a barrel of salted fish—enough to last his mother the better part of a month. He paid for it with the copper dregs he’d collected over the years, carefully counting out each coin with precision.
The exchange left him penniless. That concerned him. He had no idea how much money he’d need at the Academy or if he’d need any. He did know there was no tuition or cost for room and board. That much was common knowledge. The Academy trained adventurers, and adventurers went out and fought Kaosborn. Since they benefitted society, society provided for their basic needs during training.
On the second day, as he knelt by the garden patch behind their house, pulling weeds and working fertilizer into the soil, his mother appeared in the doorway. She leaned against the frame, watching him quietly.
“You’re working like you’ve got a whole family to feed,” she teased gently.
Otter sat back on his heels, wiping dirt from his hands. “Just making sure everything’s set before I go.”
She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “You know I’m not helpless.”
“I know,” Otter said with a grin. “But you’ll be busy at the docks, and I figured you’d appreciate not having to worry about the house.”
His mother’s smile softened. “You’ve always been like that. Quietly taking care of things when no one’s looking.”
Otter shrugged, brushing it off. “It’s just stuff that needed doing.”
She stepped down from the doorway, walking over to him. She crouched beside him in the garden, running her fingers over the freshly turned soil.
“You’re going to be fine out there,” she said after a long pause.
Otter glanced at her. “You sure?”
She met his gaze, her expression steady. “I’m sure. You’ve got more grit and smarts than most people twice your age. The Academy’s lucky to have you.”
Otter said nothing.
Marla stood, brushing dirt from her apron. “Now, come inside. I’ve got something for you.”
Back inside the house, she led Otter to the kitchen table and pulled a small bundle from a cupboard, wrapped in a faded blue cloth.
Otter raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”
“Something your father left behind,” his mother said softly.
Otter’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected that.
Marla carefully unwrapped the bundle, revealing a small knife with a polished bone handle. The blade was simple but sharp, well-maintained despite its age.
“He carried this with him everywhere,” Marla said. “Said a good knife could get you out of almost any trouble.”
Otter picked it up, turning it over in his hands. It felt solid, comforting. The weight of something passed down.
“Are you sure you want me to take this?” he asked quietly.
She nodded. “I’ve been keeping it for you. I always thought you’d need it someday.”
Otter slid the knife into his satchel, tucking it securely beside his notebook.
The morning of his departure arrived too quickly. Otter stood at the city gates, his satchel slung over his shoulder. His mother stood next to him, there to lend moral support. Erin was there, too, along with her mother and father. The transport wagon waited, its horses restless. A few other recruits stood nearby, chatting nervously. Bran was notably absent. Otter couldn't help but feel smug about that.
When the wagon driver called for boarding, Otter took a deep breath and stepped forward. His mother caught his hand and pressed something firm and cool into it.
“One last thing,” she whispered quietly.
Otter glanced down at the golden coin in his hand. He blinked in surprise, then looked up at his mother speechless. A golden Summa could keep his mother going for months.
“I’ve been saving for this day your whole life. It isn’t much, but it should help.”
“Ma, this is too much. You’ll need this more than I will. You keep it.”
Her eyes flashed. “Its not up for debate. You’ll do as your mother says one last time.”
“Yes, ma,” he said sheepishly. Then he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her as hard as he could.
Then, with a steadying breath, he climbed into the wagon.
“Let’s see where this path leads,” he whispered to himself.
And, thus, the journey began.