—ROTHFIELD GRANGES—

I had spent the gray morning with Claude tending to the livestock, making sure they were healthy, and I monitored their progress.

Claude was already hovering over the makeshift livestock enclosure, a contented smile on his lips as he stroked Belle’s fluffy head. He glanced up as I walked near them. “Is it just me, or do they seem happier here than they were at our farm?” He admired the goose’s feathers. He picked it up gently, looking at its plump underbelly, and it shuffled off back to the hens after he was done inspecting.

“Harlan and Agate feed them well enough,” I said, checking beneath their fur for bumps and rough patches of skin.

Since the growth of our crops, there have been plenty of scraps to feed all the animals in Rothfield, which provided the people with eggs, milk, and meat. The children delighted as milk splattered on wooden pitchers. Belle sniffed my palm and raised her head for me to scratch under her chin. “This one misses you. She had been looking over the dark forest when she wasn’t busy grazing or playing with Ember.”

Claude brought his nose close to Belle, his eyes closed. I noticed his shoulders slump. He dropped her head and whispered to me, “They took them all yesterday. Most of our livestock.”

I blinked and imagined Bahram’s men leading all the sheep away, past the wooden padlocked gate and onto the dirt path wards Rothfield proper.

“Ma took Annette into her room as she cried,” Claude said, finally, his breath so soft.

I nodded, grimly and patted his arm. Though he didn’t say it, this also meant that they would have less food on their tables now. I must make sure to give them enough food so they can survive. “We’ll get them back,” I replied. Claude grunted.

A sound from the settlement of Kent made him look up. He saw Harlan and Agate taking their wooden weapons before making their way towards Mount Lhottem. “Why are they going back there?” Claude asked.

I realized that I had not yet told him about the usual routine of our monastery. “They wanted to help Wilbur with his experiments in any way they could. They can hold themselves quite well, being a village of fighters. Wilbur needs ores from the mountains, you see. And this is what the elders wanted to do for us.” I scooted next to him and whispered, “They give him specific ores that he uses in his alchemy to help the crops grow and the people healthy.”

Claude stared at the little children playing on the black fields, and the patch of brown where rye and oats grew. His eyes trailed towards the men Harlan gathered. “Now that I see them clearly, they do look stronger than when they first arrived.” He looked back at the animals.

“Wilbur also wanted to figure out how to make them healthier so they could withstand the blight, but we hadn’t started yet, seeing as things are busy.”

There was silence. “Maybe I could help?” Claude said. I looked up in alarm. “Let me help you,” he said again. “Let me go with them and collect ores for you. Or anything you might need. Alchemists need many ingredients, right? You told me so.” He said it as if it was nothing but making makeshift pens and helping plant crops. “I’m guessing you need a continuous supply to keep producing fertilizers for your crops,” he added, finally.

I stared at his mouth as he talked, gulps of air in my chest. It took a while for me to stammer, “Claude, it’s dangerous.”

“I’m not scared. I can handle my own, you saw me last time.” He looked at me strangely, like he was watching my face for something.

“I won’t let you go there,” I said, almost breathlessly. The thought of him with those shadowbeasts…

“I won’t be alone. I would be with Harlan or Agate. Or Woodrow.”

“Claude, no,” I began to say, but Claude muttered something that caught me off guard.

“Or you.”

“What?”

“You could come with me. With you, I feel like the darkness doesn’t have a chance.” I was beginning to say something, filling the silence with how best to express it, when Claude said it for me. “No, never mind. You have a monastery to run. And you...” He looked at me completely, then. From my arms to my face. He moved towards me, his arms still resting on the fence. Our elbows bumped. “You look tired. Maybe let Woodrow and Wilbur take things in charge.” He looked around. “I know they have plenty of things to do during the day, but surely they can take carry some of your burdens for a day.”

I shook my head and politely took a few steps back. “I can handle it. I dare not disturb Wilbur when he’s so close to making something to help with the livestock. Along with the crops.” Claude nodded and looked down uncertainly. I touched his elbow. “You help me enough at the monastery.”

His head snapped up. “What, cooking, cleaning, and tending to the animals? Yes, but let me do something that would be really useful. Besides wouldn't this help me become stronger to defend myself and become a soldier?”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I was taken aback. I withdrew my arm. “You… still want to do that?” But of course, he did. There’s not much choice, anyway.

“It’s the only way I can think of to help my family, Ryne.” He stabbed his shepherd’s staff on the ground. “Seeing them take away the animals that we cared for… Do you know they still reward soldiers with a small bit of land in service to their lords? I know Bahram is a bastard, but even he wouldn’t dare not follow the old laws. It’s one of the only laws that still applies, especially now.” A strong wind picked up from the mountains, blowing his long dark locks from his face. “Who knows when the monsters from the mountains will eventually attack Rothfield? I've been hearing news of shadowbeasts prowling the great walled cities. I need to defend myself from those.”

For a long while, I did not respond. “If I come with you…” I began to say, and his smile quickly spread to his face.

“Agate’s been telling me how you helped them fend off direwolves and bandits both. And we managed to take down shadowbeasts and somehow help Ember turn from a great rampaging fire beast into an adorable little pup. With you by my side, I know I’ll be safe. Anyone will be safe.” He brought his face close to mine. "There's something about you. Something about this land. You don't just make things grow. You..."

Another strong gust of wind caressed his dark locks and made me stare at him full in the face. It took the words he was about to say. I wanted to keep him close and tell him that he was a child and that he shouldn't be thinking about these things. But I remembered that all of us had to grow up faster than what was expected. I felt sick to my stomach. I faced away muttering, “I have to go back.”

—MONASTERY—

Nights passed without Claude voicing his desire to join the group that ventured into the mountains to collect ores, but there were moments—moments when he thought I wasn’t watching—where his eyes would follow the men and women as they disappeared into the forest. His gaze lingered on their confident strides and the quiet pride they carried back with them, hands dusted with ore. He bit his lip, leaning toward them.

When Woodrow accompanied them, Claude noticed how they returned with barely a scrape. Sometimes, Claude would accompany me while I helped Wilbur tend to their minor injuries. He watched closely as Wilbur carefully tipped yellow liquid from small bottles onto their red cuts, the measured way each drop was released. Claude’s eyes always widened with quiet awe at the sight of it—how each wound seemed to seal, soothed under Wilbur’s practiced hands. Wilbur would thank them for the ores, and then retreat to the infirmary, while Claude lingered, his thoughts heavy with unspoken dreams.

Wilbur began to sample the blood of the livestock. His tools, though crude, were enough to reveal that they lacked the same vital elements as humans. He treated them with the same care he would people, retreating into his lab with his bottles. I helped him crush ores into powder and used my kindflame to produce several reactions: boil them, heat them, and make them spark. Wilbur frowned, his hands reaching for more ores and herbs, supplies or tools that weren’t there, itching for more resources.

“There is only so much I could do without the proper supplies,” he said out loud, frustrated. He sighed and leaned onto the table, and then remembered I was there. He stood, looking down apologetically down at me. I held out a hand, giving him an understanding smile. I left him to it.

Every Saintsday, I performed my rituals, gathering prayers from the settlement. With each prayer from the villagers, I regained strength, the nave slowly becoming more of a sacred space, filled with the glow of lit candles and freshly carved pews.

And life continued its careful rhythm. We rotated the crops in the meadows and fished in the nearby rivers. But I could feel the growing distance in Claude, his heart reaching for something beyond the farm, beyond the simple life we had tried so hard to maintain.

One evening, after the sun had long disappeared behind the hills, Claude approached me. He tapped my shoulder, and when I turned, he handed me a small loaf of bread, still warm, and a smaller bundle wrapped in cloth—a cup of milk nestled inside.

“Ma wanted to offer it to Gaelmar,” he said softly in the stillness of the night.

My heart swelled at the offerings from their farm. Even when they had less than before, they still wanted to give whatever they could offer. I swallowed, nodded, and led him to the altar. Together, we knelt, the sacred flame of Gaelmar flickering in the darkness, casting soft shadows across his face. As Claude bowed his head in prayer, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of his words, though they were silent. It was as if I could hear his very soul, his whispered plea filling the air around us.

"Please let me be strong. Please protect my farm, this monastery, and the people who live in it. Please give Ryne the strength to carry on. And please... touch the hearts of the Bahrams. Remind them that they have hearts to begin with."

His words settled deep in my chest, and I felt their sincerity, their purity. It was a simple prayer, a farmer’s prayer, but in its simplicity, there was such aching hope. He prayed for everyone—never for himself, except to be strong enough to help us all.

I held that prayer as though it were a fragile thing, something delicate and precious, and I carried it with me into my dreams that night. In the dream, I showed it to Gaelmar, laying Claude’s plea before him, as if it was the basket of milk and bread Claude had offered.

Gaelmar’s presence was radiant, and his voice reverberated through the air. “It is enough,” he said, his hands glowing softly as they reached toward me.

Suddenly, the air around us was filled with blossoms, vibrant and full of life. Flowers bloomed across the meadow in my vision—feverfew, daisies, and others I hadn’t seen in years, their colors vivid against the darkened backdrop of the world. Life sprouted where there had been only barren earth, as though Claude’s prayer had stirred something deep within the land itself.

I awoke from that dream with a sense of clarity, the weight of Claude’s longing still wrapped around my heart. It wasn’t just the ores or the strength he sought. He did want the chance to protect us, to stand by my side—not just as a farmer or a friend, but as something more, someone capable of lifting the burdens we both carried. And still, I remained stubborn.

When I went out the church doors, I shivered against a particularly strong gust of wind. My eyes went to the dark forest, sensing something there. I felt like one of the dark trees there, its roots loosening their grip on the ground. And then I felt it. A thump. Then a sound of branches collapsing somewhere in the depths of the dark forest.