The story begins in the early morning as Joe, having just left Cetus’s house, makes his way toward the heart of the capital to gather information for his business. His mind is focused on the ghoul merchant—potentially the future head of the gold market if things keep shifting in his favour.

As Joe takes a few steps away from Cetus’s home, he notices an elderly dwarf stepping out of a neighbouring house. This dwarf, who happens to be Cetus’s neighbour, lives not far from the elf baker who also resides in the area.

The dwarf shoots Joe a glare filled with anger and irritation. Joe, unfazed, returns the look and gives a slight nod. "Good morning, old master of hammers and nails," he greets.

The dwarf doesn’t reply but walks past him, muttering under his breath, “Finally, someone with a little respect!”

Joe chuckles to himself and continues on his way. After a few steps, he glances back and spots the angry dwarf offering candy to a group of children. With a sigh, Joe recalls something Foty once said about the generous dwarf, thinking, *Maybe this capital isn’t so bad after all.*

As he continues walking, he passes a garden, several shops, and a large school. His thoughts drift back to his own childhood and the village he once knew, now transformed into a bustling town. Time changes everything, especially when villages like his stumble upon treasure, as his did.

Joe’s memories take him further back, recalling himself as a small boy of barely six, playing in the dirt with the other children. He always wore his favourite old pants, torn in several places, and a small coat that never left his shoulders—a poor kid from a hardworking family.

After long days of play, exhaustion would set in as he made his way home, a modest house standing near the village's walls. The house, worn and weathered with time, had small cracks in its wooden frame and dirt stains on the entrance door. But every time Joe saw those stains, he smiled, knowing they were signs his father was home.

Upon entering the house, Joe kicked off his old shoes and dashed inside, eager to find his parents. He spotted his father and mother deep in conversation and immediately leapt into his father’s arms, embracing him tightly. His father returned the hug with a chuckle. "Easy there, kid! You’re gonna break my back!" he teased.

Joe laughed, “I never get to see you! You work so hard, but I miss you!”

His father, a tall man just slightly taller than Joe is now, had brown, shaved hair, a thick beard that covered much of his face, and large green eyes. Scars scattered across his arms and legs told the story of his labour. He smiled down at Joe. "Sorry, kid. Work doesn’t stop."

Joe’s eyes lit up as he suggested, "Why don’t you go back to farming? It’s better, and you’d be closer to home! We could play together like we used to!"

Jaffrey chuckled and ruffled Joe’s hair. "Mining brings in more money, son. I’ve got to make sure we’re secure in case you or your mother get sick or hurt. You understand, don’t you, little Joe?"

Joe’s excitement faded into a more serious expression as he nodded, hugging his father tighter. His mother, Beatrice, stood nearby, watching them with a warm smile. She was a beautiful woman with short black hair, striking blue eyes, and a small ring on her left hand. "Alright, now," she said gently, "your father needs to eat and rest."

Father and son both nodded, and they made their way to the table. Life wasn’t easy, but it was theirs, and they found comfort in facing its challenges together.

Back in the present, Joe sat near a small shop, quietly munching on an apple. As he watched the street, his eyes fell on a young child, clearly an orphan from the look of his worn clothes. Joe studied the boy for a moment before holding out his apple. "Want this?" he offered.

The child, surprised by Joe’s kindness, nodded and accepted the apple. Joe then grabbed another one and handed it over. “Stay here and eat with me,” Joe said, “so the other kids don’t bother you.”

The child settled beside him, silently munching the apple while Joe continued eating, his mind drifting to the past. He vividly recalled the day he overheard his parents’ conversation. Joe had been eavesdropping just outside their bedroom door, listening intently. His father’s voice cut through the quiet, heavy with worry. “Beatrice, you know I love you, but this dangerous work is the only way to make more money. I can’t stop.”

His mother’s response was calm, though her eyes were red, likely from holding back tears. She spoke softly, careful not to wake Joe, “Jeffrey, we don’t need more money. What we need is you—safe and alive! Johan died in the mines just weeks ago, and Baldwin was lost last year. My father, who you respected so much, gave his life to protect you when the mine collapsed!”

Beatrice’s voice trembled as she recalled her father, Basil, a man of honour who had died shielding Jeffrey. Tears welled up in her eyes, and Jeffrey lowered his head, his expression full of remorse as he remembered the man who had saved him. “I know... I’ll never forget what Basil did for me,” he murmured, “but I can’t stop now. We’re struggling, Beatrice. The cost of healers, medicine, doctors—it’s all rising. We can barely afford food, let alone anything else. Without this job, we won’t make it through the year.”

Beatrice nodded, her eyes closed, understanding the weight of his decision. She hugged him tightly, her voice soft but pleading, “Just be careful, Jeffrey. We need you.”

Joe had quietly retreated to his room, crawling into bed and pulling the blankets over his head. Silent tears filled his eyes as he lay awake, grappling with the knowledge of his parents’ struggles. It hurt him deeply to hear the burdens they carried without ever confiding in him, though he understood they were trying to protect him from their troubles.

Back in the present, Joe rose from where he sat and began walking toward the centre of the capital. He took in the sights of the bustling city—merchants, guards, and the intricate network of roads winding through the streets. Knights were everywhere, their gleaming armour a symbol of order and protection.

Joe’s thoughts shifted to the first time he saw a knight, just a month after overhearing his parents’ conversation.

On that day, Beatrice had packed a large cake into a bag, her face lighting up with a warm smile. “Your father will be resting near the mine. Why don’t you surprise him with this cake, Joe?” she suggested.

Overjoyed, Joe cradled the bag carefully and set off eagerly toward the mine, which lay just outside the village, a short walk from their home.

As Joe approached the village entrance, he waved to the guard standing watch, who greeted him with a cheerful smile. "Joe! Good day, little man!" the guard called out.

Joe returned the smile. "Uncle Urien! Can you let me through? And could you show me where the mine is? My father's working there today."

Urien nodded, clearly happy to help. "Of course! Hey, Titus, cover my post while I take a little walk with Joe!"

Titus, a young guard standing nearby, responded with a firm nod. "Yes, sir! I’ll watch it like a hawk!"

Urien gave an approving nod. "Good lad. Let’s go, Joe."

As they strolled toward the mine, Joe glanced up at Urien and asked, "Uncle Urien, that guard seemed pretty young. Can’t you handle the job on your own?"

Urien chuckled and smiled down at Joe. "Ah, Joe, I’m not as young as I used to be. After years of service, even this simple job wears on me. It’s honest work, though. Not like the old days when we had to fend off bandits all the time."

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Joe’s curiosity deepened. "Before I was born, there were lots of bandits, right? What happened to them?"

Urien’s brow furrowed in thought as he recalled the past. "Years ago, bandits from faraway lands came to raid us, trying to steal our resources. For fifteen years, your father and I fought side by side to protect this place. It’s a long and bloody history, Joe, but the important thing is—"

His words trailed off as they neared the mine, where a group of knights stood clustered together. Urien’s expression shifted from nostalgic to wary. "Stay close to me, Joe. I don’t like the look of this."

When they reached the knights, Urien addressed them calmly. "Good day, knights of Goldenleafbrook. What brings you here?"

The knights turned to face him, their expressions dismissive, full of arrogance. One of them, a young noble with a sneer that suggested this was his first mission, spoke condescendingly. "Step aside, old man. We’ve got important business here, and you're in the way."

Urien’s smile disappeared. He stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and the young knight. His voice dropped to a low, controlled whisper, his words dripping with threat. "You’re lucky this boy is here. Otherwise, I’d be making this forest a little more colourful."

The knight went silent, visibly unnerved by Urien’s calm but menacing demeanour. Urien glanced around at the group of knights, his tone shifting back to steady authority. "Now, boys, what exactly is the situation here?"

One of the knights stepped forward and explained, "We’ve been ordered to safeguard the mine. There’s a bandit group preparing to strike, and it’s our duty to protect both the miners and the mine itself."

Urien nodded in understanding and turned to Joe, urging him, "Well, what are you waiting for? Your father’s probably resting somewhere in there."

Without hesitation, Joe nodded and slipped past the knights, heading toward the mine entrance. As he approached, he saw miners emerging, their faces and clothes covered in dirt and grime, exhaustion evident in their every step. Joe pushed his way through the crowd, scanning for his father among the weary, dust-caked men. Some of the miners coughed violently, while others collapsed, too tired to make it any farther.

Joe’s heart ached as he took in the harsh reality of their situation. These men, including his father, were sacrificing their health and well-being for what little they earned from this gruelling work.

Near the entrance, Joe spotted his father, Jeffrey, helping two miners out of the mine. Jeffrey led them to a shaded area and grabbed two goblets of water from nearby miners, pressing them into the exhausted men’s hands.

One of the miners, covered in dust and barely able to speak, opened his mouth to say something, but Jeffrey cut him off firmly. "Don’t talk. Just drink. You’ll feel better soon enough."

Edmund, an old friend of Jeffrey’s, slapped him on the back with a tired grin. "Good thing you’ve still got your strength. Those two might not have made it otherwise."

Jeffrey gave a nod, then turned and spotted Joe standing a few feet away, holding a bag. Wiping the dirt from his face with his sleeve, Jeffrey smiled and waved his large arm, signalling for Joe to come over.

Joe, feeling sombre, walked over, taking in his father’s worn appearance. Jeffrey apologized as Joe reached him. "Sorry, kid. I’d hug you, but I’m filthy."

But to Jeffrey’s surprise, he noticed tears welling up in Joe’s eyes. Joe looked up at his father and asked quietly, "Is money really worth all of this?"

Jeffrey was struck silent by the question. The other miners, overhearing the exchange, turned their eyes to Jeffrey as well. It was a question they all had on their minds, but none had dared ask aloud. They were all standing on the edge of their limits, waiting for an answer that could give them some small measure of hope.

Under the weight of Joe’s gaze and the unspoken pleas of the men around him, Jeffrey found himself questioning the value of the silver coins they earned at the cost of their lives.

With a solemn expression, Jeffrey rose to his feet and looked around, his gaze moving from his fellow miners to Joe, and finally to the crowd of knights and Urien. His voice was heavy with emotion as he began to speak. "We don’t have a choice. Our families depend on us, just like they always have. Farming offers nothing but false hope. Each season can wipe out months of hard work in a blink. And the Bulwer nobles, greedy as they are, have done nothing to bring merchants to our village. The only thing of value we have left is this mine."

The air around them grew still, every ear tuned in, including the knights who had gathered nearby. Jeffrey’s voice wavered as tears filled his eyes. "Basil, my wife’s father, died saving me," he continued, his voice breaking. "I’ve seen too many good men lost in that mine. Men like Baldwin, Johan, Emeric—people we laughed with, shared drinks with. They all died in there. That’s the life of a miner. It’s unforgiving, but if we stopped, the nobles would replace us in a heartbeat, and we’d starve. The only reason I keep going is for my family—for Beatrice, for Joe—so they don’t have to bear the weight of this life. Everyone here works for someone they love. That’s the only thing that keeps us going. If any of you can find something better, I urge you to take it. But as for me, I’ll be here until the day I meet Basil again and tell him I did my best."

Jeffrey’s words struck a deep chord with everyone, especially Joe, who remained silent but visibly moved. The weight of his father’s sacrifice settled heavily on his shoulders. As Jeffrey wiped his tears, he spoke again, his voice quieter now. "I hope each of you finds a better life. Now, let’s rest. I’m as tired as the rest of you."

There were quiet nods all around. The miners slowly dispersed, each finding a spot to sit and rest. Jeffrey and Joe moved to sit under a nearby tree.

Joe, wiping his own tears, pulled out the cake from his bag and offered it to his father. "Mom was really excited to make this, and I helped," Joe said softly.

Jeffrey smiled, placing a hand on Joe’s head and planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Then let’s enjoy it together, Joe," he replied warmly.

In the present, Joe stood in front of a grand mansion in the wealthiest district of the capital—a place known among thieves as the "golden quarter." The mansion loomed before him, surrounded by high walls and a beautiful garden. Two guards stood watch at the entrance, their gazes steady and unwavering. Beyond them, a short walkway led to the grand doors of the house.

Joe lingered for a moment, studying the opulence before him, then muttered quietly to himself, "I’m not ready for this yet. Maybe someday."

Joe walked away without looking back, heading toward the gold shop where he hoped to meet the ghoul merchant. He had heard plenty of stories about this mysterious figure from the drunken dwarf and other merchants but had never crossed paths with him.

After a long walk, he reached the shop, which was just as extravagant as he had imagined. The owner, a wealthy foreigner, had made sure the place radiated success and prestige, attracting anyone who wanted to do business there.

Two guards stood outside: a female elf in medium armour, armed with a light sword and piercing red eyes that kept darting toward Joe as she whispered to her companion—a fully armoured dwarf with two magical wands on his belt and a large bow slung over his shoulder. Joe silently wondered, "How does he manage not to get tired of carrying all that?"

He kept his thoughts to himself, simply nodding and entering the shop. Inside, the atmosphere was pristine and well-organized. A young dark elf woman, the merchant, greeted him with a polite smile, though Joe couldn’t tell if it was genuine or purely professional. "Welcome to our shop, sir. How may I assist you? Gold, diamonds, information? We're here to serve."

Joe nodded, surprised. He’d always heard dark elves were quick to anger and violence, and the memory of an encounter with one two years ago lingered in his mind. Still, he answered, "Thank you. I’m here to sell my gold, provided the price is still good."

The dark elf nodded in return. "You can call me Fotiva. And your name?" she asked.

Joe introduced himself. "Joe Gostave."

Fotiva’s eyes lit up with recognition. She spoke with curiosity, "Gostave, that's a memorable name. Are you by any chance..."

Before she could finish, Joe cut her off sharply, "No, I have no ties to the Gostave noble family. You could say I left that behind. Now, how about the prices?"

Sensing his irritation, Fotiva backed off from her inquiry. "Of course, sir. Our rates are unmatched. How much gold are you looking to sell?"

Meanwhile, across town at the Thieves' Tavern, Yory and Lana were finishing their meal. Eli, her face still bruised but smiling warmly, approached their table. "Anything else?"

Yory nodded, "Just two more plates for the road. It's a long day’s journey to the capital."

Eli patted Lana's head with a smile, "Of course. Enjoy your meal."

Lana turned to Yory, her voice filled with curiosity. "Yory, where do you think Joe is now?"

Yory paused before answering, "I’m not sure. First, we’ll head to the capital, and as he said back in Giraf village, he’ll find a way to meet up with us."

Lana nodded thoughtfully, then added, "I miss him. I really hope he’s okay."

After a sip of water, Yory reassured her, "He’ll be fine. Joe’s strong and level-headed."

Lana smiled, comforted by Yory's words. "What makes you so sure?" she asked.

Yory’s expression softened as memories of his brother flooded back. "I had a brother, Fenris. Quiet, but always kind. He became an adventurer, and Joe reminds me of him. Both are calm, drawn to solitude, but ready to face danger when it comes. I’m wishing them both good luck, wherever they are."

Lana’s eyes brightened with enthusiasm. "I’d love to meet Fenris one day!"

Yory smiled, his thoughts lingering on his brother. "One day, Lana, you will."

Back in the capital, Joe stood in front of an old, worn inn that fit the kind of place he was looking for—a simple, run-down spot that wouldn’t ask too many questions and offered cheap rooms. Just as he was about to enter, he felt a presence behind him. Turning around, he saw a young man with short black hair, clean-shaven, and wearing glasses that framed his piercing blue eyes. He was tall, though not quite as tall as Joe, and wore light armour with a slender sword at his side. Despite his noble bearing, there was a gentle humility about him.

Joe’s face showed a complex mix of sadness and nostalgia, but he said nothing, just silently gazing at the young man. Tears welled up in the young man’s eyes as he spoke softly but firmly, "Brother!"