Morning came with the kind of pale light that makes the whole village seem to hold its breath. I got out of bed with an odd burst of energy, thinking back to last night, even though I'd only slept about four hours.
Sword Saint… what an absolute thrill. Still, today I've got a mountain of things I want to test.
Let's see… where should I start? I'd like to check out the passive abilities, but I have no idea how.
Time for breakfast, every great day starts with one. Still, I'd commit minor war crimes for a Red Bull right now.
In the living room, Mom had set out warm bread and fresh jam, along with a cup of herbal tea and some milk. The tea smelled like mint… and nothing else. Odd.
"Morning, Mom," I said as I sat down.
"Did you sleep well, Lucy?" she asked with a warm smile.
"Not really, I'm a bit tired today," I admitted, grabbing a slice of bread and dunking it into the milk. Good. Every time I eat here, I can't help but think that simple things like bread, milk, and jam taste better than they ever did in my old world. Maybe they really are, or maybe, given the circumstances, anything you eat here just feels good… and at the very least, it's probably organic.
"Where's Dad?" I asked Sofia. She turned and said, "He left early this morning. Had a few deliveries and errands to run, you know, since they're leaving today."
Right, the trade trip. Let's hope nothing goes wrong.
I kept eating at an easy pace, still savoring the last bite when Dad appeared in the doorway, coat slung over one shoulder, satchel in hand, a gleaming breastplate strapped over his tunic. He wore the look of a man who'd already decided exactly how my day would go.
"Lucy," he said, his voice calm but carrying that quiet authority that left no room for argument. "We're heading out today, ten of us from the village. Like we talked about, the plan's the same: take the cart down to the next village south, trade our goods for metal, tools, and anything else worth bringing back, then be home before nightfall tomorrow. I want you with us. You've sat on the sidelines long enough; it's time you saw more of the world, learned the road, and lent a hand."
I blinked. "Really?"
He nodded. "You've been cooped up too long. Time for fresh air. And I could use the help. It could be dangerous, but it's rare for anything to actually happen."
A trip. With Dad. And nine others, sure, but still, leaving the village was rare for me. Ten hours on foot sounded almost pleasant if it meant new roads, unfamiliar faces… maybe even a hint of trouble.
Not that I wanted trouble. Just… a little variety.
"I'm ready," I said with a grin. "Just let me grab my stuff."
Mom was already smiling like she'd known about this for days, and knowing her, she and Dad had talked about letting me go well before this morning.
Sounds like I'll have to wait until tomorrow to test the skills and bonuses from [Sword Saint]. Still, the raw stat boost alone is nothing to sneeze at. It's one of those things you notice right away. Compared to the other two, it's not as dramatic… but still dramatic enough to matter.
Five minutes later, I was dressed for the mild but fresh spring morning. The air had a crisp edge, so I pulled on decent clothes and a light cloak over one shoulder, enough to ward off the chill without overheating later. I checked my boots, then packed my satchel: a light scarf, jar of jam (obviously), bundle of herbs from Mom, my eighth-birthday dagger, a coil of rope, a whetstone, and a hunk of bread for later. From the wall, I took my sword and realized I still didn't have a sheath.
Damn.
By the time I reached the square, the group was gathering. Our "wagon" was a creaky ox-drawn cart Mr. Faust had lent in exchange for trading some of his goods. Sacks of herbs, jars of pickles, iron tools wrapped in cloth, enough to trade without draining our own stock.
Only two wore real armor: my father, in a breastplate gleaming over his tunic, and an older hunter in a mismatched set of leather and chain. The rest wore sturdy clothes, thick boots, and carried whatever gear they could, belts with pouches, worn cloaks and the occasional dented helmet. Dad's breastplate caught the morning light, paired with leather bracers and greaves, practical for the road but still making him look ready for trouble.
Each of them carried a wooden shield strapped to their back, some better made than others, a clear reminder that in these parts, one injury could mean death and that defense always came first.
Weapons were simple but functional: spears tipped with iron or spiked staves capped with metal. Old Jarrik, the tanner, had a spear so polished it caught the light like a mirror. Lorin, near the back, carried a staff bristling with metal spikes. Two farmers had short hunting spears worn smooth from years of use. Marrek, the old hunter, bore the only bow, a well-crafted yew piece with a leather grip and a quiver of goose-feathered arrows, handled like it was part of him. The rest had plain but serviceable village-forged arms.
As for weapons, my father carried a sturdy one-handed war pick, the kind with a pointed spike on one side and a hammer face on the other, along with a reinforced wooden shield.
Dad tossed me something. Reflex caught it before thought did, a simple leather scabbard with a metal tip.
"For me?"
"Were you planning to carry that sword in your hand all day?" he chuckled.
I buckled it on. "Thanks. You're the best."
"Don't do anything stupid if something happens," he said flatly.
Sliding Flame Fang into the scabbard, I was surprised at how perfectly it fit. Just the other day, he'd borrowed it to sharpen, which was strange, considering how slow work had been. But hey, less work for me. He probably did it just so he could give it to me today. What a guy.
I'm adjusting my sword belt when the familiar sound of hurried, overconfident footsteps hits my ears.
Great. Here comes trouble.
"Luuuucien!"
I don't even turn around. "If you draw that out any longer, I'm charging you rent for the vowels."
Tina skids to a stop in front of me, hands on hips, grinning like she's about to sell me a cursed talisman.
"I heard you're going on the trade trip."
"Yup. Fresh air, strange company, and the slight chance of goblin trouble. Living the dream."
She leans forward, eyes wide, tone dripping with faux innocence. "Take me with you."
I shake my head before she even finishes. "Nope."
"You didn't even think about it!"
"I did. For exactly half a second. Still nope."
She squints at me. "What if I promise to be quiet the whole way?"
"Impossible. The laws of nature wouldn't allow it."
She gasps, clutching her chest in mock offense. "Wow. Rude. I was going to bring you snacks."
I hesitate. "…What kind of snacks?"
"Too late. Offer withdrawn."
I sigh, glancing toward Dad. "Look, it's not happening. But… come by for dinner tonight. Sofia would like that."
She narrows her eyes, clearly weighing the loss against the consolation prize. "…Fine. But you owe me a story when you get back. And not the boring kind. I want blood, treasure, and at least one near-death experience."
"I'll see what I can do. No promises."
She smirks, stepping back toward the crowd. "If you die, I'm keeping your sword."
"Over my dead body."
"That's the idea!"
I chuckle, about to fire back with a retort, when she cuts me off.
Her voice drops slightly. "Don't get hurt, okay? And come back soon."
I blink. "You sound worried."
"Pfft. I just don't want to deal with your parents if you don't."
"Sure," I say as she walks away.
Mom came over, kissed my forehead, and told me to be good and listen to Dad.
Finally, it was time to leave. We set out as a group, staying fairly close. Dad took the rear, the lone archer in the middle, and I walked beside Dad at the very back, with a clear view of everyone ahead.
We set off down the dirt road, boots crunching, air smelling faintly of pine and last night's rain. The village shrank behind us, and for the first time in years, the world opened up, in both distance and possibility.
The road was rough, lined with weeds, the only view for an hour being trees. But there was something about the rhythm of travel: boots crunching, cart creaking, quiet conversations.
I smiled, genuinely happy. Just seeing beyond those four walls made my heart race. Still, their gear looked odd; Dad could've made better armor, but they were farmers, this march alone would wear them out, and armor would finish the job.
"Are you happy?" Dad asked.
"Very," I replied.
"Good," he nodded.
People talked about all sorts of things, weather, harvest, and eventually, me.
"Can't believe they brought the kid," one farmer muttered.
"Kid? That's our 'swordsman'," another grinned. "Trust me, you wouldn't want to see me with a sword, I'd probably cut off my own foot."
Chuckles followed, until someone added, "Title or not, he's still nine. Nine-year-olds shouldn't be on a trade run."
I ignored them, eyes on the road, a smirk tugging at my lips.
Lorin kept scanning the treeline with restless wariness, the kind of look that says he'd heard the road was safe, but didn't buy it.
I knew better. In the Empire, "safe" was always relative. Wolves, goblins, even the odd rogue adventurer, rare this close to settlements, but not impossible.
I'd activated [Control] from the first minute, but it's useless here. In a forest or open grassland, unless something's right in front of you, everything blends together in life-force colors. If it's behind cover, it's like trying to spot light green against dark green, then throwing red over it and asking which is brighter.
The morning passed without incident. Around midday, we stopped at a stream for the ox to drink and to rest. I crouched by the bank, letting the cool breeze off the water brush my face, watching sunlight scatter and dance on the rippling surface. For a moment, I just breathed.
Then, a branch snapped deeper in the woods.
Too heavy for a squirrel. Too light for a bear.
I straightened, hand on my sword. The others didn't notice at first, still talking, until the archer turned sharply toward the sound. He glanced at me, then raised his voice so everyone could hear, "Something's there!" while nocking an arrow.
Everyone rose and grabbed their weapons. Poor Lorin dropped his spear trying to snatch it up in a panic.
I heard more noises, though the tall grass made it hard to see. Maybe I was going to get that little bit of trouble after all.
___________________________________________
Author's Note:
Hi everyone, I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for following the story so far. From here on, we can consider the prologue finished and the real story beginning. I started this with one set of ideas, but changed them along the way to fit a new direction. It took me longer than expected to rewrite certain parts, but honestly, I'm pretty happy with the result.
Hopefully, you haven't died of boredom in the meantime. A special thanks to those who comment, offer corrections, or occasionally toss me a shiny pebble. One small request… I'd love a short review or even just your thoughts: the good, the bad, and everything in between. Don't hold back; I want to hear the praise and the criticism alike. It really means a lot to know what readers think.
One last note: I'll be away on vacation for a week, so I won't post anything during that time. (Then again, knowing myself, I might get inspired and post at least one chapter anyway.)