The enchanting Golden Forest. Leaves of gold shimmered in the morning sun, casting a radiant glow.
"Uncle..."
"Until yesterday, I appreciated your care for that creature. However, beyond this point lies the 'Outside,' the path leading to Lusitania. Bridget, surely you're not harboring any foolish ideas?" The stern man faced the young girl with crimson hair.
"I am... engaged to him."
The two stood facing each other. The girl, resolute and youthful, and the stern middle-aged man.
"You're a “Ray”, aren't you?"
"Still, I must search. We've lost contact for so long. I don't even know if he's safe. I can't just stand here and do nothing."
They had received communication up to the point of reaching the Kingdom of Saint Lawrence. Beyond that, silence. If he was unharmed, that would be enough. Perhaps communication had merely been disrupted due to the vast distance. In an era where even sending a single letter wasn't guaranteed, it was uncertain.
"Doesn't your name bind you? Then there's no choice but to sever it."
The man reached for his sword at his waist. At that moment, the girl, Bridget, felt a shiver run down her spine. His determination was formidable. Although she had never heard of a man who would wield a sword against his future daughter-in-law, there was nothing unnatural about the man before her. He was a skilled swordsman, a "Ray," and he stood on equal footing with the girl's father—no, perhaps even slightly—
"Once you're within striking distance, I can't guarantee your safety."
"I know. Every strike of yours is lethal. Uncle, you're a Lusitanian swordsman too, aren't you?"
"Step back. And then, as if nothing happened, return to Brad and—"
"I won't step back."
The man’s eyes narrowed slightly as the girl mirrored the man's stance.
"Even knowing you can't win, you still won't hesitate? You're determined, huh?"
"Yes. Ever since I became engaged to that fool, no, even before that, we've been companions. I won't waver anymore. I won't let him escape."
The girl stood resolute. The man closed his eyes momentarily and released his grip on the sword hilt. It was a sign of giving up on persuasion.
"Thank you, Uncle, no, Father."
The girl bowed deeply, tears in her eyes.
"If he's out there managing well for himself, then live together. If things aren't going well, and he can't return, come back without hesitation. If he's lost, exhausted, unable to move forward, you should still come back. There's no shame in any of those choices. Both Brad and I, your mother too, have walked those paths."
"Yes! But I'll definitely find him. And even if I have to drag him back, I'll return. Both he and I love this country, Lusitania."
"True. The world is vast. Brad and I were once frogs in a well. Unable to do anything, we were cast out into the world and returned. The outside isn't as forgiving as it is here. So, be prepared."
The man then handed the sword he had carried to the girl.
"That blade will not be enough for you now, now that you are a 'Ray.' Take it. It's the same type as the one he wields, the sword was meant for him. I forged it with prayers, imbuing it with the fate that draws you two together. It's my masterpiece. Originally, I intended to use it in your wedding ceremony."
The girl blushed slightly.
"I'll give the one you currently have to Brad. When you began your training as the next “Ray”, he asked me to make it. It is precious to him, precious memories."
"Thank you for everything, and… farewell."
The girl wiped away her tears and stepped forward. With unwavering determination, she moved forward.
Watching her resolute back, the man recalled their past. Their purposes differed, but they had both broken the rules to venture outside. The direct descendants of the blacksmith, William Livius, who would become the guardian of the country, and the egg that would hatch into a “Ray.”
"Take care of our son."
Praying that she and their son would meet, the man, Warren Livius, offered his prayers to the Golden Tree, their god.
༺༻
"Warren!"
The red-haired man confronted another man with equally fiery hair. Their ages were close, and their stern expressions bore similarities. In this village, where many were relatives, blood ran thick, and faces and hair colors often resembled one another.
"Why didn't you stop Bridget?!"
"I apologize."
"I'm not asking for apologies! Why did you—"
As the villagers gathered around, the man confronting Warren struggled to find words. He couldn't reveal what lay beyond this point to the young men. Despite his anger, he retained a modicum of reason.
"...I apologize."
The man continued to express apologies, frustrating the other. Warren accepted the man's anger and glared back. It was a form of release for the pent-up frustration.
Warren knew that he couldn't explain the situation to the young men here. His anger was understandable even amidst his outburst.
"...Someone stop them!"
"It’s Brad ‘Ray’ Felin! Who in this place can stop him?!"
As the young men fumbled, the older ones surveyed the surroundings without much concern.
"It's about time—"
"Alright, Brad, calm down. Warren is crying!"
The woman's arrival would defuse the situation.
"Sorry, Warren. You are in mourning, but this idiot husband of mine... sigh. That girl, she didn't stop, did she? Well, she's my daughter after all. Once she makes a decision, she's unwavering. Did she inherit her stubbornness from you? If it were me, I'd have chased after William the day after he left."
"No, it's my fault for not stopping her. I can't blame you for being angry."
"Enough with the apologies. Brad too. Got it?"
"Uhuh."
Brad took a step back, overwhelmed by the woman's forceful presence.
"By the way, isn't your younger son unwell?"
"He was never naturally robust. I don't think it's an epidemic, but it's best to keep him away from here. I've told him that countless times."
"Our village members are like family. I'll make something that will fix him up. Cheer up, Warren. And, thank you for caring about that girl. She's still immature, but she's a ‘Ray,’ our child. She'll surely drag William back home."
Satisfied, the woman pulled Brad away. Watching her retreating figure, Warren's eyes softened. Mother and child were so alike—strong, noble, capable of anything—
...But that's dangerous.
As the leader who had pulled them out of the country, Warren had ventured outside with various village leaders from Lusitania. Even now, some of his memories remain fragmented due to the loss he had suffered. It had been a painful experience.
For someone unaccustomed to pain in Lusitania—
...Let's pray.
Warren headed toward his workshop and home.
Yesterday, one of his daughters had died.
Just last year, another.
Now, the only remaining "William" had begun showing signs of illness.
Warren would forge his sword with prayers. He had sworn this role during the time of loss. He regretted that he, as a direct descendant of the Liuvius lineage, shouldn't have wielded the sword.
The nameless emotion spreading within him—what could he call it?
Warren didn't yet know.