The journey to Lowdan was as quiet as usual. The soft pitter-patter of raindrops gently tapping against the leather canopy that served as shade on the wagon provided a rhythmic backdrop to his reflection.
Cian had never been a fan of small talk, so he was at least grateful that the old man usually left him to his thoughts during their journeys.
He recalled the last time he had visited Ladiel, it was with his father and Elsa. They had accompanied his father to get some materials for crafting.
He didn't want to go at first, but she offered to come along just so he doesn't get bored on his own. He found solace in his thoughts, causing an innocent smile to appear on his face.
She always went out of her way to put a smile on his face. She wasn't like that just for him, she always tried to make everyone around her happy. Such an innocent soul had to face a very horrific demise at the hands of these evil warriors.
'But they aren't all evil, there's Darcy, she cares for this world almost as much as she cares for the real world, maybe there are others like her' he thought to himself.
'By now the Valhalla quest would have begun, and the warriors would probably be heading into the Badlands, I just hope it all goes well, for Darcy's sake at least'
"Kid, we are here" the old man called out, interrupting his thoughts as the wagon came to a halt.
The carriage pulled into Lowdan, the rain slowing to a gentle drizzle. Cian stepped out onto the wet ground, his boots making soft squelching sounds.
He watched as the wagon trudged away through the rain-soaked path before entering into his father's shop.
The short white-haired man was seated behind the counter appraising one of his weapons, "Oh it's you, the Crazy warrior."
He leapt over the counter and rushed at Cian "Did you see the rain? That means the drought has finally come to an end!" he said with a joyful expression.
"My son is going to be so happy when he returns… So what brings you back here, warrior?" Sir Owain asked.
Cian sighed, he couldn't tell him that he just came back home to see his father, but it didn't matter, just knowing that he was fine was enough.
"Have you already forgotten, you promised me a weapon the last time I was here, how could I pass on a weapon made by a master craftsman," Cian replied. He knew how his father responded to flattery, and if he wanted to convince his father to make him a weapon, this would be the way to go.
"Oh" Sir Owain let out a nervous chuckle, "it's been a while since anyone called me a master craftsman… for that, I must show you my special collection comprising the powerful weapons I've made so you can choose from"
"Th-that won't be necessary" Cian quickly contested. He recalled how he helped his father make all the weapons in his special collection, and all of them turned out to be Mid-grade items.
"I would prefer you to make me a new one, so I can get to see a master at work."
Sir Owain was puzzled "Huh? Make you a new one? Do you know how long that would take?"
"It doesn't matter," Cian said with fiery enthusiasm,
"I can stay up all night if it means I get to witness a skilled master such as you display your unmatched brilliance and artistry" Cian regretted his words as they came out his mouth. He hated watching his father work, just an hour alone felt like unending torture, but if this was the sacrifice he had to make then so be it.
A hint of blush graced his father's cheeks, he timidly confessed "I don't even have any material we can use"
"That wouldn't be a problem, I have brought something that is just as deserving of your master crafting skills" Cian fervently proposed.
He took out the Minotaur's horns, "with this you can make something worthy enough to be called your masterpiece"
A subtle tremor ran through Sir Owain as he reached for the horns. He ran his trembling hand across the material.
"I've never had the chance to work with such a material before, just smelting it alone would be extremely difficult". Although it sounded like he was complaining, his excitement was very visible.
"Is this a Minotaur's horn?" he questioned with fiery passion.
'He was able to identify it was a Minotaur's horn just by seeing it,' Cian thought to himself.
"Yes it is, I slayed it myself" Cian replied.
Sir Owain shifted his gaze to Cian "That means you must be a very strong warrior, and a strong warrior like you needs a very reliable weapon… what would you like me-" he suddenly paused mid-words, with his smile slowly fading.
"Is anything the problem sir?" Cian asked concerned.
"You would have to find another craftsman," he sighed as he returned the horn to Cian with a somber expression.
Cian was confused, 'everything was going smoothly a few seconds ago, then what suddenly made him change his mind?'
"Sir, only a master craftsman such as yourself would be able to forge a weapon with this material" Cian explained.
It was clear that just a moment ago his father was excited, but now he just looked dismayed.
"You'll have to find a true master craftsman then because I don't deserve to call myself that," he said, disheartened.
"But you are a master craftsman, look at all these items you've crafted. There's no one in the whole of the Lowlands with more experience than you" Cian tried persuading him.
"Thank you warrior, but you don't need to flatter me. I'm not blind, I know all my weapons are of low quality" he said sadly.
"The thing is no matter how much I try it always feels like something is missing… and because of that I couldn't inspire my son as my father inspired me, I pushed him to run away with my terrible crafting skills" Sir Owain added, unable to control his emotions and breaking into tears.
Cian felt heartbroken watching his father cry. He never knew he carried such a heavy burden deep within his heart.
Even though it was true that his father had only produced low-quality weapons, Cian's words weren't just empty flattery, he really did mean everything he said. Even without mana, his father was considered one of the best craftsmen in the Lowlands.
Although he mostly ended up making Mid-grade items he had created and sold a few high-grade weapons in his lifetime. The fact that he could do that without using any magic was already an incredible feat.
"But it wasn't your fault," Cian confessed, even if he couldn't explain why.
"You don't know that… I always knew Cian never liked crafting, he never had the passion for it because I couldn't show him how amazing it was. Now I don't know if he's ever coming back. I've brought shame to the Branwen legacy" he sobbed even more.
Cian could no more bear to see his father in this condition, watching him blame himself for something that wasn't even his fault.
"Believe me it's really not your fault, you've been cursed"
"Cursed?" he mumbled as he wiped his tears away
"Yes, someone for whatever reason, placed a curse on you, a curse that restricts you from using mana, but I can lift the curse"
"Using mana? Curses? What are you saying?"
"I think It's better I just show you," Cian placed his hand on his father's chest and activated his skill.
"CURSE DISPERSION"