Siegfried Fors
Borg Barony lies a hundred kilometers north of us. Nestled in the thick arms of a sprawling forest, it's not a place marked on many maps, at least, not the older ones. They've only been around for twenty-two years or so. A speck of green that carved its way into the records when others were looking elsewhere.
Unlike Fors Barony, with our seventy years of tangled history and stubborn roots, Borg is young. Simple. Modest. Their wealth doesn't come from gold or trade routes. It comes from trees, tall and proud, and the fruits they coax from their soil with patient hands.
Our connection to them isn't forged through treaties or politics. It's older. Quieter. A thread spun in kitchens and wedding halls, not war rooms.
It starts with Granny.
Granny used to live in a village between what would one day become Borg and what already was Fors. When she married into the Fors family, she left behind her old life, but not her blood. Her sister and the rest of the family stayed back, and Borg Barony was officially formed years later.
Years passed.
Then came the harvest festival, years ago, long before I was born. A young man from Borg, not yet a lord, attended alongside his father. And at that very festival, he met Clara, Granny's niece.
The rest, as Mother said, is history.
They married. The bond between our baronies grew. Not with pomp, but through family. Through shared meals, and children who visited cousins during festivals, and quiet letters passed by birds like Noctyra.
That's the gist of it. The version Mother gave me, anyway.
After asking Silas to escort Erina back home, the four of us gathered in the study, Mother, Granny, Grandpa, and me.
The door clicked shut behind us, sealing out the bustle of servants and the quiet anxiety starting to ripple through the manor.
Granny didn't sit. She stood by the window, arms folded, gaze fixed on the horizon like the world itself owed her an explanation.
I sat quietly, hands folded in my lap as Grandpa read the letter at the table. Mother stood beside him, one hand braced against the table, her eyes fixed on the page like it might bite.
For some reason, a chill lingered in my chest. Maybe it was instinct. Or maybe it was just the silence stretching too long.
That was when I felt it, that subtle flicker of a presence brushing against my awareness. Familiar. Comforting.
I turned to the door just in time to see Faux phase through the wood. He hovered for a moment, then glided over and settled onto my head with a soft hum.
I smiled, lifting a hand to gently stroke his tiny frame. "Finally awake, huh?"
He howled in reply, curling slightly in my hair.
Then Grandpa finally spoke, his voice breaking the silence.
"From what's written, the main damage was to the fields. The fruit trees are fine… but more than half the farmland's been destroyed."
That sounds bad. Really bad. If the fields are gone, the harvest will be too. They'll struggle through winter, maybe even starve if it's a long one.
Granny turned from the window. "What caused the fire?"
"They don't know yet," Grandpa replied. "They're questioning every fire mage in the territory right now."
"It could be the work of an enemy…" Mother murmured.
Granny's eyes shifted to her. "What do you mean?"
"Cutting off a region's food supply is one of the easiest ways to weaken it," Mother said. "Or… force it into debt."
The room fell silent for a moment. Her words made sense, too much sense.
Huh. Mother's sharpness in such moments really impresses me sometimes.
"You think someone burned the fields just to make Borg desperate?" Granny asked.
"It's possible," Mother answered.
It did sound plausible. But… something didn't add up.
"Wouldn't burning the fruit trees have done more damage to the territory?" I asked.
Everyone looked at me.
I continued. "I mean… everyone knows Borg's main income comes from fruit exports. If someone really wanted to weaken them, why leave the trees alone?"
Granny nodded slowly. "That's true. Anyone with half a brain would know the trees are worth more than the fields."
"Don't ask me," Mother said, raising her hands. "We won't know anything until we go and find out."
Grandpa leaned back, arms crossed. "Then we should help them. If someone's trying to force them into a corner, it's better we offer our hand before they start thinking they're alone."
"That's right," Granny said firmly. "I'll speak to Silas. We'll see what extra surplus we have in the warehouse, flour, dried roots, grain. I'll get it boxed and ride over personally."
"I'm coming with you," Grandpa said, already rising from his chair.
Granny met his eyes and nodded.
Seeing the situation, I felt something stir in me, an opportunity. A quiet urge. I'd only left the barony once in nearly two years, for that trip to the port city, Tidefall. I remember the scent of salt on the air, the wide streets, the buzz of something unfamiliar. Even if this wasn't some grand adventure, it was something.
"I wish to—"
"Take Sieg with you," Mother said, cutting me off.
I blinked, startled. She didn't even look at me when she said it.
I didn't expect this. Maybe she understood what I needed more than I thought.
Granny turned sharply, brows knitting together the moment the words left Mother's mouth."Absolutely not. He's still a child."
"I'm eight," I muttered under my breath, petting Faux's tail. The little fox clicked softly, as if sharing my irritation.
Granny didn't even glance at me. "This isn't some walk through the orchard. It could be dangerous. Fires don't just start on their own, and if there's foul play involved—"
"Then wouldn't it be better for him to see that?" Mother cut in, arms crossed. "He's not fragile porcelain. He's trained every day for the last two years. Besides, if this is someone trying to manipulate Borg Barony, Sieg might prove useful. His eyes see more than most."
"He's a boy!" Granny snapped, louder than intended. Even Grandpa raised an eyebrow.
Mother didn't flinch. "A boy who is going to grow up into someone who will be involved in matters like this, whether we like it or not. Or do you intend to keep him behind wards and walls forever?"
Granny's jaw tightened. "I don't like this."
"You don't have to like it," Mother said gently, but firmly. "You just have to trust him. And trust me."
Granny exhaled through her nose, long and slow. Then her eyes settled on me at last, scanning me the way she did when testing potions, careful, discerning.
"I want him by my side the entire time."
Mother nodded. "Of course."
"And if anything happens—"
"I'll come flying myself," Mother said.
Granny sighed, shaking her head. "Fine. Pack your things, boy. We leave at first light."
I blinked, surprised by how fast it all happened. Faux happily swayed his tail, as if sharing the excitement.
"Yes, ma'am," I said quickly, trying not to smile too much.
Just as the tension in the room settled, I remembered something. Reaching into the magic pouch tied to my waist, I pulled out a familiar item, a practice wand, its shaft cracked clean through, splintered at the core.
"Broken again?" Granny asked, already sounding exasperated.
"Ah... it happened last night. I was practicing in my room," I said, scratching my cheek.
Last year, on my birthday, Granny had gifted me my first practice wand. I'd been thrilled, just starting to study mana-based spells, it felt like a rite of passage. But after a few days, the wand exploded in a burst of sparks and smoke. Everyone assumed it was a freak accident or a faulty item. They bought me another.
The same thing happened.
And then again. And again.
Zayn told me that my mana was special, or just plain weird. That it surged unpredictably, like a current no ordinary conduit could handle. He also half-joked that's why horses didn't like me either.
Granny sighed like she'd aged ten years in ten seconds. "What about spares?"
"All broken," I admitted, holding the cracked wand like a dead twig.
Mother burst out laughing. "That's my son! We both have a talent for breaking things."
I looked at her flatly. "No, no. Don't lump me in with you on that."
Granny pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered, "You two…"
Grandpa chuckled and came to rest a hand on Granny's shoulder. "Alright, alright. I'll go check the warehouse, see what extra supplies we can send along to Borg."
"I'll help you," Mother said, already following him out.
Granny looked at the wand in my hand, then held out her own. "Come on. Let's go buy you some new ones… again."
I gave her a sheepish smile and placed the broken wand back in the pouch. Faux gave a soft sound from my head, as if to say, "You're a walking hazard."
Yeah. Tell me something I don't know.
Granny and I stepped out of the manor and made our way down the cobbled path toward town. The morning sun peeked through the clouds, casting a golden glow on the familiar streets of Fors. Townsfolk we passed along the way offered warm greetings. I smiled and nodded politely, still holding Granny's hand as we walked.
"Lady Elara, good morning!"
It didn't take long before we were stopped by a familiar robed man near the chapel steps. Father Kaelen bowed with a soft smile.
"Ah, Lady Elara, young lord Siegfried. I pray you've been well. All is Aethelhum's blessing."
Granny returned a short nod, her lips tight. "Of course, Father. We're in good health."
I sensed the tension in her voice. For some reason, Granny didn't seem fond of the Faith of Aethelhum, not openly hostile, just… distant. We bid him farewell quickly and continued onward.
Eventually, we reached our destination: a modest two-story shop with a worn sign above the door reading "Magic & Craft."
Granny pushed the door open, and a soft chime rang through the room.
"Ah, welcome, Lady Elara!" called the man behind the counter. He looked to be in his forties, with short brown hair, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, and the sleeves of his robe pushed up to his elbows.
"Morning, William. How's business?" Granny asked, letting go of my hand.
I didn't wait for the answer. The moment she stepped up to the counter, I drifted away to inspect the wonders scattered throughout the shop. My eyes sparkled with excitement, monster parts sealed in glass jars, grimoires on high shelves, magic tools humming softly, crystals pulsing with dormant spells, and shelves lined with polished alchemy materials.
The grimoires were particularly striking. Some contained multiple basic spells, others held a single, elegant spell, signs of more advanced complex magic. But they were all elemental. I sighed. No use to me...
Faux above my head was also looking around curiously.
Behind me, I heard William murmur, "Another broken wand?"
I turned in time to see him furrow his brows.
"I wonder if the whole batch was faulty?"
Granny shook her head. "The first few came from the capital. They exploded, splinters flying everywhere. The wands aren't the problem." She gave a sideways glance toward me. "The problem is... him."
Both their gazes landed on me. I smiled innocently, raising both hands like I had no idea what they meant.
"Ah, Lady Fors! Welcome!" came a hearty voice from the back.
A stout figure emerged, covered in soot and smelling faintly of iron and herbs. She was a dwarf woman, hardly any taller than me, with thick arms, round cheeks, and a belly that shook slightly when she walked. Her curly dark-orange hair was tied up in a messy bun, and she had a large smithing hammer in her hand. She wore a heavy leather apron dusted with ash and grease.
"Thrainna," Granny greeted, looking at the soot smeared on her cheek. "Were you working?"
"Just messing with some hobbies," she replied with a deep, hearty laugh. "Couldn't resist hammerin' a few ideas into shape."
She turned to me and gave a toothy grin. "And there's the boy. Hello, young Lord Fors."
"Hello," I said with a smile.
It was hard to believe these two were married, William and Thrainna. A human and a dwarf pairing was rare, but not unheard of. Granny once told me love sometimes bloomed in the most unexpected places.
"Oh, and I heard your son returned from the university," Granny said. "Edward, wasn't it?"
"Aye, he's back," Thrainna replied with a proud gleam in her eye. "Graduated just a few weeks ago. He's waitin' on an offer letter from Atividade Company. He just popped out to buy—ah! Speak of the devil."
The door opened again with a jingle, and in walked a young man in his late teens. He carried a paper bag filled to the brim, a baguette and some round fruits poking out the top. The moment he saw Granny, his eyes widened.
"Good morning, Lady Fors! Young Lord!" he said quickly, bowing so fast that the bag tilted and half the fruit rolled out onto the floor.
"Ah, geez, what are you doin' now?" Thrainna scolded as he scrambled to pick up the fallen items.
Once he had gathered everything, Granny gave him a kind nod. "Congratulations, Edward. I heard you graduated from Celestara University. That's no small feat."
"N-no, I was just lucky…" he muttered, still bowing slightly.
Celestara University, named after the empress who founded it, is the most prestigious institution in the empire. It's said that more students get expelled than graduate. Both Granny and, surprisingly, Mother are alumni.
William turned to me. "Ah, why don't you let Edward take a look at your wand? He studied magic engineering, he might be able to repair it."
At the mention of magic engineering, I perked up. My head turned sharply toward him.
"Can you?" I asked, reaching into my pouch and holding out the broken wand.
Edward blinked, but this time didn't seem nervous. He set his bag aside, gently took the wand from me, and let out a slow breath. A pale blue glow surrounded the wand. After a few minutes or so, with smooth, practiced movements, he traced his fingers along the crack. Before my eyes, the splintered wood knit itself back together, the fracture vanishing like mist in the morning sun.
"…That's similar to mana alchemy," I murmured in awe.
Granny nodded. "Magic engineering is the equivalent of that, just more common."
A few minutes passed and...
"There," Edward said, handing the wand back. "Good as new."
I turned the wand over in my hand. It was flawless, no crack, no chip, not even a sign it had been damaged. My eyes widened.
"That's amazing…"
Granny glanced at the pouch still hanging at my waist. "You've got more, don't you?"
"…Yes."
I hesitated, then took out the rest of the broken wands.
Edward's eyes widened. "That many?"
"Is it… not possible?"
He smiled nervously. "It's possible, just… it'll take time."
"Repair as many as you can for today," Granny said, waving it off. "And have them delivered to the manor."
Edward gave a quick nod, already moving toward his workspace with the pile of wands in hand.
After saying our goodbyes, Granny and I stepped out of the shop, the doorbell chiming softly behind us.
By the time we returned to the manor, the household was already in motion. Granny went straight to helping with the final preparations, checking supplies and confirming routes. I headed to my room, the excitement of the coming trip bubbling in my chest.
I packed carefully, making sure each item was placed neatly in my magic pouch, grimoire, a few alchemy vials, my notebook, and some of the repaired wands Edward had delivered just an hour ago. He'd managed to repair eight of them by evening. I smiled, slipping one into my belt holster.
As everyone bustled through their tasks, the sun dipped below the horizon, and the manor gradually grew quieter. That night passed in a strange stillness. My heart beat faster than usual as I lay in bed, eyes wide open, imagining what lay beyond the forests of Fors.
At the first light of dawn, we stood at the manor gate.
Faux was still asleep on my head, his legs and tail dangling down, a soft snore escaping him.
A large, forest-green carriage awaited us, gleaming faintly with golden markings across its sides. The wheels were reinforced with mana-treated wood, and small protective runes were engraved near the entrance. It was easily the most well-made carriage I'd seen.
Seven soldiers stood nearby with horses, each dressed in dark green cloaks, their armor neatly polished. But what struck me wasn't their appearance, it was their mana. It pulsed faintly beneath their skin, quiet but dense. Powerful. Not as immense as Grandpa's and Mother's, Well, I couldn't sense Mother's mana in the first place, but they definitely weren't ordinary soldiers.
I leaned closer to Mother and whispered, "I've never seen them before."
She yawned, covering her mouth. "They're usually on outside watch duty, away from the manor. That's why."
That didn't ease my curiosity, but before I could ask more, Granny stepped forward, dressed in her traveling cloak and holding her wooden staff. "Is everyone ready?" she asked.
I nodded eagerly. Grandpa, who had been speaking with Silas and the mysterious soldiers, turned to us and gave a nod. "All is prepared. Are the Supplies loaded?"
I turned to Granny, "Where are the supplies?"
With a smile, she tapped the pouch on her side. "I have my own magic pouch too, you know."
Of course, she did.
Mother gave us a sleepy wave. "Alright, alright, go already. I'm tired and want to go back to sleep."
Granny raised her staff and bonked the top of her head with it, lightly. "Don't laze around. Silas, make sure she works while we're gone."
Silas gave a dramatic sigh. "My lady, you should know by now… that's an impossible task."
Granny chuckled. "I know. But I want you to try."
Silas looked utterly defeated. I actually felt bad for him.
"Let's get going," Granny said.
I jumped into the carriage first, unable to contain my excitement. The others followed, Granny, Grandpa, and the soldiers jumped on the horses. With final waves and parting words from the manor staff and Mother, the carriage began to roll out, heading north.
As the manor faded into the distance, I leaned out the window, feeling the wind tug at my hair.
A sense of adventure swelled in my chest. Something about this journey… it felt like the beginning of something grand.
An amazing journey awaits, I can feel it.