Aiden woke early, the golden light of dawn filtering through the small windows of their home in Brishelm. After washing up and tidying his room, he eagerly joined his mother, Ayleen, for breakfast. As he sat down to enjoy a hearty meal of fresh bread, scrambled eggs, and warm herbal tea, Aiden turned to his mother with a hopeful glint in his eye. "Mom, should I continue with my alchemy practice today? I want to get better at it."
Ayleen, her serene expression momentarily thoughtful, placed her cup of tea on the table. She studied her son, noting his growing enthusiasm for alchemy. Finally, she nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. "Follow me, Aiden. Today, I'll teach you something new—a mana recovery potion. It's an essential skill for any budding alchemist."
Excitement lit up Aiden's face as he eagerly followed her down the stairs to the basement. Their alchemy lab was modest yet well-equipped, with shelves lined with glass jars containing various herbs, powders, and liquids. The air smelled faintly of dried lavender and crushed mint. Ayleen pulled out a well-worn recipe book, flipping to the page detailing the mana recovery potion. She laid the book on the workbench and gestured for Aiden to come closer.
"This potion is straightforward to make but requires precision," she explained. "The ingredients need to be balanced perfectly, or the potion's purity will suffer. Watch closely."
Ayleen began demonstrating the process. She carefully measured out the components: mana grass, crystal dew, and powdered moonflower petals. She explained the importance of each ingredient as she worked, her movements deft and practiced. Once she finished, a faintly glowing blue liquid swirled in the glass vial she held up. "And this, Aiden, is the result. Now it's your turn."
Aiden stepped up to the workbench, determined to match his mother's skill. He followed her instructions meticulously, though his hands trembled slightly as he handled the delicate ingredients. After an intense half-hour, he presented his potion. The liquid shimmered faintly but lacked the vibrant glow of Ayleen's.
"About 50% purity," Ayleen remarked, inspecting his work. "Not bad for your first attempt. Keep practicing, and you'll improve. Well done, Aiden."
Her praise brought a proud smile to Aiden's face as he set the vial carefully aside. "I'll keep practicing, Mom. Thank you for teaching me."
Satisfied with his progress, Ayleen ruffled his hair affectionately before heading back upstairs, leaving Aiden to continue his work.
Upstairs, Orin sat in the living room, his usual calm demeanor replaced with a subtle tension. He cradled a steaming cup of coffee in his hands, his gaze distant. Ayleen joined him, her expression softening with concern as she noticed his furrowed brow.
"Still worried about yesterday's encounter in the forest?" she asked, sitting beside him.
Orin nodded, taking a slow sip of his coffee before replying. "Those methods… poison suicides. They're characteristic of spies or assassins. It's highly unusual for an assassin to be operating out here in such a remote area, let alone mingling with bandits. This was no ordinary attack. That man was a spy. The real question is whether he was acting alone or with a group."
Ayleen's frown deepened. "Do you think… it's them?"
Orin's jaw tightened as he set his cup down. "Yes. It must be. We've seen those poison tactics before… back during the war. When we captured their operatives, they always took their own lives to avoid revealing anything. Now they've returned."
Ayleen's face darkened with understanding. "If they've returned, then another war is on the horizon, isn't it?" She let out a hollow laugh, her frustration evident. "They really don't know when to back down, do they? What are they even trying to achieve? Capturing a border territory isn't going to uncover some mythical treasure."
Orin sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Only the higher-ups know why they're so persistent. But if they're making moves again, we need to stay vigilant. The peace we've enjoyed all these years might not last much longer."
The two sat in heavy silence, their minds turning to the grim possibilities of what the future might hold. Eventually, Orin stood, placing a reassuring hand on Ayleen's shoulder. "I'll head to the smithy and see if there's anything I can do to prepare. You keep an eye on Aiden."
Ayleen nodded, watching him leave before returning to her own thoughts.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, in the city of Dermon, Two stood before One in the dimly lit underground chamber. Her voice was calm yet firm as she relayed her findings from the night before.
"Thirteen was last seen with a group of local thugs planning a robbery. I followed their trail to a clearing outside the city. There, I found signs of a battle. The ground was stained with blood, and the air held traces of residual mana. The markings suggest two individuals wielding both swords and magic. The bandits—and Thirteen—were killed swiftly. Whoever did this was highly skilled."
One listened intently, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he spoke, his tone laced with skepticism. "So, you're telling me that in this remote part of the kingdom, there's someone strong enough to kill Squires and Specialists as if they were nothing? That's hard to believe. What reason would such a person have to live in a backwater village like… what was it called again?"
"Brishelm," Two replied.
One repeated the name, his lips curling into a faint frown. "Brishelm. Take Seven and Eight with you. Investigate this village and find out who this person is. Use extreme caution. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. We can't afford any missteps."
Two nodded. "Understood. But the village is small. Blending in won't be easy. How do you suggest we approach this?"
One considered this for a moment. "You have two options. Pose as traveling merchants looking to settle temporarily, or impersonate villagers. If you choose the latter, you'll need to handle the… replacements discreetly. Start with the first plan. If you need to extend your stay, transition to the second."
Two's eyes glinted with determination. "I'll make the necessary preparations. We'll leave in a week."
"Good," One said, his voice cold. "I want detailed reports. Do not underestimate this target."
Two gave a curt nod before vanishing into the shadows, her mind already calculating the next steps. As she left, One stared at the map on the table before him, his fingers tracing the outline of Brishelm. Whatever lay in that village, he intended to uncover it.
Back in Brishelm, Aiden was unaware of the storm brewing on the horizon. As he meticulously worked on improving his potion-making skills in the basement, the pieces of a much larger game were quietly shifting into place. Forces beyond his comprehension were converging on his peaceful village, their intentions shrouded in darkness. And as the sun set on Brishelm that evening, the faint rustle of leaves in the distant woods seemed to carry an ominous warning: the peace they cherished was fragile, and it was about to be tested.