Morning arrived without ceremony.
Soft light filtered through the wooden-frad windows of Orthran’s modest ho, spreading gently across pale stone walls and simple furnishings. The Holy Capital stirred beyond the residential quarter, but here the world felt smaller, quieter.
Orthran was already awake.
He moved through the kitchen space with calm familiarity, sleeves slightly rolled, preparing breakfast with steady hands. Fresh bread ward over low heat, its crust turning lightly crisp. Tea steeped in a simple ceramic pot, the scent subtle and clean. Nothing elaborate. Nothing excessive. Just food ant to begin a day properly.
Noel joined him without armor, without formality. Casual clothes. Relaxed posture. For once, no weight of command hanging from his shoulders.
They ate at a small wooden table near the window.
Noir rested on the floor nearby, tail moving lazily as she focused on her portion of at, entirely content with the simplicity of the mont.
Sunlight brushed across the table. Dust motes drifted in the quiet air.
Just the quiet rhythm of a normal morning.
When the al ended, Noel rose, adjusted his sleeves, and prepared to leave. He didn’t ask for company. Orthran didn’t offer it.
So visits were ant to be made alone.
The road beyond the Holy Capital curved gently toward Lestaria, pale stone giving way to packed earth and trimd grass. The sky was clear, a wide blue stretch without a single cloud interrupting it. Sunlight fell cleanly over the landscape, bright but not harsh. A soft breeze moved steadily across the fields, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers.
There was nothing heavy in the air.
The last ti he had stood in this direction, the world had felt muted, uncertain. Today it felt open.
Noel walked at an unhurried pace. He wore simple clothes—dark trousers, a light coat, sleeves rolled slightly. No armor. No cloak bearing rank. In his hand he carried a small bundle of fresh flowers, their colors bright against the green around him.
Noir walked beside him in her wolf pup form, paws silent against the dirt path, purple eyes scanning the horizon out of habit more than need.
’It’s been a while since we ca here, Dad.’
Her voice settled lightly in his mind.
"Yes," Noel replied quietly. "Too long for my liking."
The breeze tugged gently at his coat as they continued forward.
"A lot has happened," he added after a mont. "That’s why I wanted to arrive early. I needed ti for this."
Noir’s tail moved once in understanding.
The cetery lay ahead, near the outskirts of Lestaria. A few figures were already leaving—humans mostly, though an elf couple walked side by side farther down the path. The region had always drawn mixed races, its proximity to both territories making it a quiet point of intersection.
Several people noticed him as he approached.
There was recognition in their expressions. A pause. Then respectful nods.
"Noel," one man greeted softly.
A young elf bowed his head slightly.
Noel inclined his own in return, calm and natural. "Good morning."
Glances followed him for a few seconds longer. It was rare now to find soone who did not know his na. Rarer still after recent events had spread across continents.
Noel continued toward the cetery gates, flowers steady in his hand, Noir pacing beside him.
The cetery was quiet, but not somber.
Sunlight spilled over trimd green grass, catching on polished headstones and fresh bouquets left by earlier visitors. The sky above stretched wide and clear, an open blue without shadow. The air carried warmth, steady and gentle.
It felt peaceful.
Noel stepped between the rows slowly, eyes scanning until he found the one he was looking for.
Erick
You were brave, even when you shouldn’t have had to be.
He stopped in front of the stone.
For a mont, he said nothing. Just stood there, flowers in hand, Noir settling quietly at his side.
"Hey, Erick," Noel said at last, voice calm, almost conversational. "It’s been a while."
He crouched slightly and placed the flowers carefully at the base of the headstone, adjusting them so they rested evenly against the stone.
"I’ve learned a few new spells," he continued, a faint smile touching his lips. "You would’ve liked them. I can already picture your face when sothing explodes bigger than it should."
The breeze shifted lightly across the grass.
"A lot has happened since that day," Noel said. "More than I expected."
He exhaled slowly.
"I’m going to be a father."
The words ca without hesitation.
"I never planned that. Not when I first arrived here. But... people change, I guess."
His gaze lowered briefly to the engraved na.
"I think you would’ve liked them. The kids. They’re stubborn, loud, too curious for their own good." A faint breath of amusent left him. "You would’ve fit right in."
He straightened slightly.
"I’m heading to the orphanage later today. I’ll tell them so stories. I think I’ll tell them about Erick the Brave."
His eyes remained steady on the stone.
"You deserved more," he said quietly. "A normal life. A world where nothing went wrong. Where you didn’t have to be brave."
He let the silence linger for a few seconds.
"But I’ll make sure they rember you."
Noel gave a small nod, almost as if acknowledging a response only he could imagine.
"Rest well, Erick," he said. "You earned it."
He stood, brushing a bit of grass from his knee, and took one last look at the headstone beneath the clear sky.
He turned to leave.
The path between the graves stretched ahead in quiet lines of white stone and green grass. The sun remained warm against his back. Noir shifted at his side, ready to follow.
Then, at the edge of his vision—
Movent.
A small figure stood several rows away.
It wasn’t detailed. It wasn’t solid. More like light bending into a familiar shape. A boy’s height. Slight shoulders. Hair that caught the sun just enough to be recognized.
Erick.
Just... standing there.
The figure raised one hand.
A simple wave.
The kind a child gives before running off to play.
And then it was gone.
The space where it had stood returned to nothing more than trimd grass and polished stone.
Noel remained still for a few seconds, eyes resting on the empty patch of ground.
Noir glanced up at him.
"Dad?"
He blinked once, then exhaled quietly.
"Nothing," he said, voice steady. "Let’s go."
He didn’t look back again.
But the faintest hint of a smile lingered at the edge of his expression as he walked away from the grave beneath the clear, open sky.
By the ti he crossed back through the inner gates of the Holy Capital, the stillness of the cetery had settled into sothing quieter inside him.
The orphanage stood within the inner district, not far from the residential quarter—white stone like the rest of the Capital, though smaller, simpler. The courtyard walls were low, designed more to define space than to confine it. The wooden gate bore fresh repairs, subtle but recent.
Children’s voices carried over the wall before he even stepped through.
Bright. Unrestrained. Alive.
The mont Noel entered the courtyard, a few of the older children froze mid-ga. Recognition spread quickly, faster than whispers.
Then they ran.
Footsteps pounded against stone. Laughter erupted. Several nearly collided with each other in their rush to reach him. Small hands grabbed at his sleeves, tugged at his coat, wrapped around his waist.
They called him a hero.
They asked if he had fought dragons.
If he had saved kingdoms.
If he had really defeated monsters in the north.
Noel allowed himself to be pulled toward the center of the yard, settling onto a low stone bench as the children gathered around him in a loose circle. Noir remained nearby, enduring enthusiastic pats and careful strokes from the smaller ones who rembered her.
He began telling them stories.
Of battles against towering beasts.
Of creatures that crawled from shadows.
Of magic lighting up the sky.
He kept it vivid but light. Dangerous, but victorious. No blood. No fear lingering too long.
And when he told them about Erick the Brave, he did so with pride.
A boy who stood firm when others would have run.
A boy who protected others.
The children listened with wide eyes and quiet awe.
Under the clear daylight within the Holy Capital’s walls, surrounded by laughter and restless energy, the story did not feel like mourning.
It felt like legacy.
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