As the waiter walked away the tension died down a little bit. Eager to better understand him Pao asked again about Amukelo's past, "Amu. Could you tell me more about your past? I want to understand you as well as I can." Amukelo paused for a moment reflecting on his past.
His voice was soft, but clear, "In my village, we were poor but happy, at least for a time. My mother, she worked tirelessly. Despite the hardships, she always made sure we had enough." He paused, his gaze drifting off as if visualizing his childhood home. "Every night, she would read stories to me about heroes who overcame great odds. Those stories... they sparked something in me."
He shifted slightly in his seat, his hands gently fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth as he continued. "When I was ten, my friend Eagor and I stumbled upon an old hut in the woods. An ancient elf lived there." A small, nostalgic smile flickered across his face as he mentioned the elf, but it faded quickly as the narrative moved forward.
"The years went by, and my brothers left in search of better prospects, leaving just me and my mom." His voice thickened with emotion, and he took a slow, steadying breath before he could continue. "Then she fell ill. It wasn't sudden, but it was devastating. I did everything I could, worked every field I could, to buy medicine, to make her better..." His words trailed off, and he swallowed hard, clearly struggling with the memories.
Then Amukelo shifted slightly from his narration, "Sorry if I repeat what I already told earlier". "It's okay," Pao whispered, giving him a reassuring smile.
With a deep sight, Amukelo continued. "On a cold winter day, when the wind was howling like the cries of the lost, she... she passed away. Right before she did, I promised her I'd be someone she'd be proud of, that her story wouldn't just fade away." His eyes were glossy with tears that he was trying to stop, his voice barely a whisper. "That promise is what drives me. I can't let her down."
He tried to smile, an attempt to lighten the somber mood. "After she died, I was lost. But I remembered the elf, the lessons he began to teach me. So I went back to him, trained under his guidance, learned how to survive, how to fight. And eventually, that path led me to you and the guild."
As Amukelo finished his story his eyes were filled with regret and guilt, "If only I was stronger. If only I did more. Maybe..."
Pao reached quickly across the table, her fingers lightly brushing his, stopping his self-blame. Her touch was gentle and reassuring. "No, Amu," she said softly, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that commanded attention, "I'm certain you did everything you could. You're incredible. The fact that you can still keep pushing after what you've been through is truly amazing. Remember, every hero in those stories you grew up with had to face suffering to rise. You're no different. And I have no doubt that you will fulfill your promise to your mother. I know that!" Her words, spoken with such conviction, seemed to light a spark in Amukelo's eyes, rekindling a fire that grief had dampened.
Just then, the waiter arrived with their meal, placing dishes of beautifully prepared food before them and filling their glasses with wine. As they began to eat, Pao complimented the meal with a delighted smile, "Mmh... That's really good." Amukelo watched her for a moment, the rest of the room fading into a blur as his focus narrowed to her genuine smile and the soft light reflecting in her eyes.
After they finished their meals, Amukelo, feeling a bit more at ease, turned the conversation towards Pao. "What about your childhood?" he asked, genuinely interested in learning more about her life.
Pao hesitated, perhaps caught off guard by the personal nature of the question, but then she began, her voice soft but clear. "You know, Amu, before I heard your story, I used to complain about the smallest discomforts or any minor inconvenience. Bao and I grew up in a noble house. We had access to a good education and never really wanted anything. But when I was twelve, my father went bankrupt. He lost everything—his house, his status, everything he had worked for. Despite the drastic change in our circumstances, my mother made sure we never went hungry. And we had some friends from higher social circles who helped us a lot."
As she spoke, her voice carried a note of nostalgia mixed with a touch of sadness. "Then, around the age of eighteen, Bao and I decided to become adventurers. Bral, who was the son of a friend of our parents from a more noble background, wanted the same, and so did Idin. So, we joined forces and started this journey together, moving from one place to another, experiencing life as it came."
Amukelo listened intently, absorbing every word. "That's crazy that you all come from noble backgrounds," he remarked, a hint of awe in his tone. "I would never have guessed. I've always imagined nobles to be somewhat aloof and egotistical, but all of you are so kind and down-to-earth."
As Pao finished her story, they realized they had finished their first bottle of wine. Pao signaled the waiter, who promptly brought over another.
The rest of the evening transitioned seamlessly into lighter conversations, with laughter and shared stories filling the air. Amukelo, intrigued by the magical aspects of Pao's life, asked about beginning his own training in magic. Pao, her eyes sparkling with the enthusiasm of sharing her passion, agreed to teach him. She explained the importance of understanding and controlling one's mana—a conversation that illuminated paths to abilities Amukelo had never considered accessible to him.
As the night deepened and the wine flowed, Pao shared more of her aspirations. Her voice softened when she spoke of her youthful desire to explore the world, a dream tinted with the hues of adventure and discovery. Yet, she admitted, later in life, she hoped to settle down, her gaze flitting away momentarily before locking back on Amukelo with a shy intensity. "Maybe we can do that... once you've spread the word about your mother," she added, her cheeks flushed with a mix of wine and emotion.
Amukelo, taken aback by the intimacy of the remark, murmured almost to himself, "We can do that..." He signaled the waiter for another bottle, his mind racing even as he tried to appear composed. Despite the wine, he felt clear-headed, as if the gravity of the evening's conversations anchored him firmly to the moment.
They stayed for another hour, their dialogue weaving through various topics—the rigors of the training facility, the dynamics of the adventurers' association, and anecdotes from their past adventures. Each story and shared laughter seemed to draw them closer, bridging the gap of formal acquaintance to something richer and more profound.
Eventually, they realized they had reached the end of their final bottle. They left the restaurant, and Amukelo insisted on covering the bill despite Pao's protests to split it. They strolled through the quiet town, the streets bathed in the soft glow of lantern light, creating a serene backdrop to the end of their evening.
Leaning slightly into Amukelo as they walked, Pao's steps faltered, her head resting gently against his shoulder. In a soft, slightly slurred voice laden with sincerity and a touch of fatigue, she whispered, "Amu... You are truly amazing. I will do everything to help you achieve your goals. Thank you for tonight. It was truly a different experience." Her words trailed off as she succumbed to the dual weariness of the late hour and the wine's embrace, her breathing evening out as she fell asleep against him.
Amukelo, moved by the trust and affection evident in her relaxed features, carefully lifted her into his arms. He carried her back to the inn, her head nestled softly against his chest, her face innocent and peaceful in slumber. As he approached Pao and Bao's room, he knocked gently, mindful not to awaken her. Bao opened the door with a worried expression that melted away into relief and a tender smile upon seeing her sister so vulnerable yet content in Amukelo's arms.
He stepped inside quietly and laid Pao down on her bed, ensuring she was comfortable. With a silent nod of gratitude and a shared understanding of the night's significance, he left their room, closing the door softly behind him. As he returned to his own room, Amukelo found himself reflecting on the evening—not just the words and the wine, but the profound connection that had subtly woven itself between him and Pao, a bond that promised the beginning of something new and deeply meaningful.