As Leon passed through the lobby, the air was filled with quiet energy. Many of the women who had taken refuge in Olivia's home were already up, the first rays of morning light filtering through the windows.
They had formed a kind of unspoken order among themselves, each finding a role to play. Some were busy tidying up the house, sweeping floors and clearing the tables from the night before. Others slipped quietly outside, gathering ingredients and preparing food for the group. Despite the tragedy and loss they had all endured, they were determined to keep moving forward. No matter how deep the pain, life didn't pause; it pressed on, and so did they.
Leon followed Olivia as she led him into a dimly lit room that smelled faintly of metal and ash; the old blacksmith's quarters. The heavy door creaked open, and immediately Leon's eyes fell on Olivia's father, Brian, a man who, despite his age, radiated a quiet strength. The old blacksmith struggled to sit up from his bed, wincing with the effort.
"Father, you need to rest," Olivia scolded, her voice soft but firm. She crossed the room in quick strides and gently but decisively pushed her father back down onto the bed, pulling the worn quilt back over him. There was both love and frustration in her movements, as if she had spent her whole life trying to protect the man who had once been her protector.
Brian grumbled in response, trying to laugh it off, though his face betrayed the weariness he felt. "Oh, Olivia, I'm not as fragile as you think," he said, flashing her a crooked smile, though it quickly faded when he saw her expression. It was clear he wasn't winning this argument, so with a sigh, he leaned back into the pillows.
His attention then turned to Leon, standing near the doorway in his silver armor, a sword hanging at his side. Brian's eyes softened as they took in the sight of the young man. There was something bittersweet in his gaze, a mix of pride and sorrow. Perhaps he was reminded of the passing of time, or perhaps of all the things that had changed, both in the world and in himself.
"Ah, young man, forgive me for not standing to greet you properly," Brian said with a humble nod, his voice laced with apology. "Please, come sit. I owe you more than words."
He shifted in the bed, trying to sit as straight as possible, a gesture of respect despite his weakened state. "Before we speak of anything else, let me first apologize for my suspicion the last time we met," he said, bowing his head slightly. "I was wrong to doubt you, and I regret my attitude."
Leon smiled kindly and waved off the apology. "It's alright, Uncle Brian. That was a different time, and Olivia was able to find us a place to stay. I didn't take it to heart."
He paused, his tone growing more serious. "Besides, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. If you hadn't turned down our request to rent that farmhouse, we might not be here today. When the Kantardars attacked, we would've been caught in the middle of it all, defenseless in the village." Leon's voice carried the weight of what could have been; a disaster narrowly avoided. His words were not just polite; they were true.
Brian nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "You have a point," he murmured. "Fate has a way of working in strange ways, doesn't it?" He let out a long breath, as if letting go of some of the guilt he'd carried.
"But that doesn't excuse my disrespect," Brian continued, his eyes growing earnest. "And more than that, you risked your life to save my daughter. There are no words to properly express what that means to me."
His gaze shifted to Olivia, who sat beside him, her hand resting gently on his arm. "She told me everything. What you did for her… for us," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "If something had happened to her, I don't think I could have lived with myself. My old bones don't matter much anymore, but Olivia… if anything had happened to her..." His voice faltered, lips trembling as he fought back the rising wave of emotions.
"Father," Olivia interrupted gently, squeezing his arm. "Please, don't speak like that. You've always taught me to value life, no matter how hard things get. So you must do the same." Her voice was firm but kind, her words filled with both the wisdom her father had passed down to her and her own fierce love for him.
Brian sighed again, a mix of relief and regret washing over him. The room fell into a peaceful silence for a moment, as if they were all taking a breath, savoring the fact that they were still alive; still together. For now, that was enough.
Old Brian looked at his daughter, sensing the weight of her words. He took a deep breath, the emotional tide threatening to overwhelm him. Nodding slowly, he managed to quell his rising feelings, allowing the calm of the room to settle over them.
Turning his gaze back to Leon, he said earnestly, "Even though Selva is no longer a safe haven, know this: my home will always be a refuge for you. If you find yourself in need, whether it's shelter or support, don't hesitate to come to me."
Leon felt a warmth spread through him at the old blacksmith's sudden shift in attitude. It was a testament to the universal love parents have for their children. Brian's age suggested he was in his fifties, maybe even nearing sixty, and considering Olivia's youth, it became clear how much she meant to him. It seemed she was not just a daughter, but the light in his life, the only child left to cherish.
"No need for money," Leon replied, "but one of my friends was injured and could really use a place to recover. Would it be possible for him to stay here?"
He exchanged pleasantries with Brian before turning to Olivia. "I won't disturb Uncle Brian's rest. I'm going to check on Brandon. Is he still in his original room?"
"Yes, he's next door. I just brought him some food," Olivia replied, her voice filled with concern. "And don't forget to get breakfast from Aunt Milia."
Leon nodded, thanked them both, and politely excused himself. Once he left, old Brian turned to his daughter, a flicker of fear in his eyes.
"What a nightmare it's been," he said softly, relief washing over him. "I can hardly believe you're safe. Those young men who came to help... whether they were drawn by your beauty or their sense of honor, I feel I can never repay them."
Olivia frowned at her father. "Father, please don't make unfounded assumptions about my friends. They acted out of kindness, not because they think I'm some princess in a fairy tale. I'm just a country girl; no one should die for me."
Brian opened his mouth to argue, but decided against it, opting instead for a gentle nod. "Perhaps you're right; it seems your judgment of character is sharper than mine."
Olivia's expression darkened. "I'd give anything for everyone in the village to be alive. Uncle Matt, Grandpa Andro, Grandma Rona... so many dear souls lost forever."
"It's not your fault," Brian reassured her, his voice firm but compassionate. "Don't bear that weight on your shoulders."
Yet Olivia couldn't shake the thought that lingered in her mind: 'What if all the militiamen in the village hadn't been conscripted?'
Brian sensed her turmoil. "That would have only added to the tragedy," he replied, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Not everyone has the strength you possess, dear. If you couldn't protect yourself, what hope would those young men have against the Kantardar cavalry? Their absence was a blessing in disguise; otherwise, we might have lost even more."
"I know, Father," Olivia murmured, her gaze drifting to the sword sheathed at her waist. "But if only I could become stronger... if only I could protect those I care about."
Her words hung in the air, filled with longing and determination, as she contemplated the burdens of the world outside their walls.
Brian watched his daughter, Olivia, as her fingers traced the hilt of her sword, her eyes lost in thought. He could see the conflict in her gaze, the weight of the burden she wished to carry. For a long moment, he hesitated, unsure whether to speak or let her find her own path. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he broke the silence.
"I won't stop you anymore," he said softly, his voice tinged with resignation. "If you want to keep learning swordsmanship, then so be it. The world we live in now is growing darker by the day. I'm old, Olivia, and I can't protect you like I once did. Even here, in this quiet corner of Selva, war has reached our doorstep."
He paused, turning his gaze out the window as though he could see the encroaching chaos in the distance. "When I've recovered from these injuries," he continued, "we might not have much of a choice. I'll leave this house to Leon and the others, and we'll head north. It's safer up there... for now."
Meanwhile, in the guest room, Leon entered to find Brandon awake and enjoying breakfast in bed, his plate stacked with bread and dried meat. Leon's armor clinked as he stepped inside, his presence immediately filling the room.
"How's the rest, Brandon?" Leon asked, grinning at his bedridden companion.
Brandon turned his head and, upon seeing Leon dressed in full armor, his eyes brightened with amusement. He couldn't help but tease, "Look at you! All suited up like some grand lord. I should probably get out of bed and bow before you, Lord Leon."
Leon played along, leaning forward dramatically with a mock flourish. "Too much honor for a humble commoner like me, Sir Brandon," he said, gripping his sword as though preparing to duel in a royal court.
Brandon chuckled, shaking his head. "Come on now, I never inherited any title or land. I'm hardly a knight," he said with a wry smile. "Even if I were to reclaim my father's land from the Kantardars one day, I'd hope you wouldn't be so formal. It would give me goosebumps."
Their friendship had grown deep, forged in the fires of battle. Formalities had long since dissolved between them, replaced by the unspoken bond of shared hardships.
"Alright, enough jokes," Leon said, dragging a chair closer to the bed and sitting down. He grabbed a piece of bread from Brandon's plate without asking. "How are you feeling? There's a nice set of armor in the warehouse waiting for you when you're ready."
Brandon nodded, swallowing a bite of food. "I'm feeling much better after a good night's sleep. Most of the pain's gone, but my leg... it's still a mess. I won't be walking for a while."
"Rest up," Leon said, waving his hand dismissively. "After what we did for Olivia, Uncle Brian practically treats us like family now. We're in no rush, and no one's going to chase us out of here. We've got time to recover."
Brandon leaned back against the pillows. "What about Liam? Where's he?"
Leon, still chewing on his stolen piece of bread, answered casually. "He's helping out in the village, keeping an eye on the prisoners. One of the Kantardar knights survived, and we're trying to figure out what to do with him."
At the mention of the prisoner, something seemed to click in Leon's mind. His eyes sharpened as if remembering a crucial detail.
"Wait... a Kantardar knight," he muttered, standing up abruptly.
Brandon blinked in confusion. "What's gotten into you?"
Leon finished his bread in a hurry and crossed the room with purpose. "I need your help, Brandon. Come with me, I'll carry you if I have to."
Brandon, intrigued, set his tray aside. "Alright, but what exactly do you need me to do?"
Leon moved to help his companion out of bed, his voice lowering as he explained. "Do you remember the Kantardar officer; the one who bought Liam's sister?"
Brandon's expression grew serious. "Yeah, I remember him. What about it?"
Leon's eyes gleamed with sudden determination. "I recall the emblem on his robe. It had a white bird. If we're lucky, this captured Kantardar knight might know which noble family that emblem belongs to. You're the only one who speaks Uriah fluently enough to interrogate him properly. We need answers, Brandon."
Brandon nodded, catching onto the plan. "So, we're going to find out who's behind it all."
Leon helped lift his companion from the bed, a newfound urgency driving his movements. "Exactly. If this knight knows anything about the man responsible for Liam's sister, it could change everything."
With that, they set off, determined to uncover the truth, each step drawing them deeper into a web of secrets, vengeance, and justice.