Steel is forged in heat and pressure—so is life.
I cannot promise you an easy world, my child. I cannot promise that your hands will stay unscathed, or your heart untouched by sorrow.
But I can promise you this—
You will grow with the freedom to choose your own path.
And whatever path you take, I will stand behind you, like the steel that holds the finest blade.
Nestled like a precious gem at the heart of Regiamagna, capital of the Invictusian Kingdom, lay the village of Leonhardt. Here, the rhythm of hammers striking anvils rang like daily hymns. Among the golden flames and the lingering scent of smelted iron lived Arian Gofdraig, a respected mid-tier blacksmith whose name carried weight not for fame, but for his unwavering dedication.
From a young age, Arian had poured his soul into fire and iron. His aging brown hair often shimmered with reflections from the forge, while his bright amber eyes revealed a fervor that had never dimmed. His frame, sculpted through years of lifting hammers and bending molten steel, bore the scent and strength of the workshop—a man carved from toil and tempered by love.
But he didn't stand alone.
By his side was Elda Gofdraig, his ever-gentle wife with soft light-brown hair and crimson eyes that held both warmth and mystery. After five long years, the gods had graced them with another child on the way. For her safety, Arian insisted she stay away from the forge.
In the quiet corners of his heart, Arian hoped for a son this time—not out of disregard for his daughter, but because the legacy of fire and steel demanded a bearer. One who would one day stand before the furnace, meet the fire's test, and forge his own fate.
That night, Arian decided to take his family to central Regiamagna, only an hour away from the village. They needed to purchase new equipment and, more importantly, get Elda's pregnancy checked by a trusted midwife.
The sky was scattered with dim stars, and the moon hung silently above—as if watching over their journey.
"What's troubling you, my love?" Arian asked gently, his voice a comforting balm. "We should get your check-up done first… and maybe pick up some things for the little one."
Elda smiled, her fingers brushing his arm. "I'm not worried. Quite the opposite, really. I'm excited. If it's a boy, it might be a little different from raising Elara. But if it's a girl—I already know how to care for her."
Arian chuckled. "You're right. I need to prepare myself too. Maybe raising a boy requires more... stern fatherly charm."
She laughed and tapped his shoulder. "Then shall we head out? I'll go get ready."
"We'll stop by the midwife first, then take a carriage to the capital. I'll wait outside."
They nodded to each other. Elda went inside to prepare, while Arian waited at the front of the house. Soon after, she stepped out with their daughter Elara, and the three of them walked through the village toward the midwife's house.
The main road of Leondhardt Village shimmered beneath the soft glow of its streetlamps.
Suspended from intricately wrought iron posts, glass lanterns cradled stones of Lumium—gems that gleamed with a pale golden-white light, each flecked with traces of stardust.
Every so often, their radiance pulsed gently, like the heartbeat of something ancient and alive.
The quiet luminescence spilled across the cobblestone path, casting shifting shadows that swayed with the night breeze.
It was a kind of magic born not from spells, but from stillness—a serene beauty that belonged only to Leondhardt.
Elda walked beside Arian, her hand resting lightly on his arm. In front of them skipped little Elara—a five-year-old girl whose bright crimson eyes sparkled like live embers.
"Papa," she asked, looking back at him with a glowing smile, "will my little sibling be as strong as you?"
Arian chuckled and ruffled her hair. "We can't say for sure, sweetie. But one thing is certain—your sibling will grow up strong, wrapped in our love."
Her smile widened. To Arian, it was a smile that etched itself into his heart. And tonight, it held something different… something deeper.
When they arrived at the midwife's cottage, a silver-haired elderly woman was already waiting at the door—Madam Liana. Wrinkles adorned her face like the rings of an ancient tree, but her eyes gleamed with insight.
"Elda, Arian," she greeted, her voice calm and knowing. "I had a feeling you'd come tonight. Come in, I've already prepared a tonic for you."
Elda took a seat on the wooden cot, and Madam Liana began examining her carefully. After a few moments, she nodded with satisfaction.
"Your baby is healthy, Elda. But you need plenty of rest and proper meals. This child... carries a powerful energy," she whispered.
Arian's brow furrowed. "Powerful energy?"
Madam Liana offered only a cryptic smile. She handed him a small pouch of herbs. "Make sure Elda drinks this before bed. It will help her body stay strong."
She exhaled slowly, then continued, "We all know there are two kinds of energy within the human body. The biological energy—powered by the mitochondria in our cells—and the spiritual energy, born from the visothelion, a special organelle found in the brain, heart, and spinal marrow. This spiritual energy is what lets us turn imagination into reality. What we call... magic."
Arian listened intently, trying to grasp where she was going with this.
"In all my one hundred and twenty-four years of practice," she went on in a softer tone, "I've never seen a fetus with such strong vis capacity. Not even Elara had this much, though she came close."
Arian narrowed his eyes. "I don't know if that's a good or bad thing. But whatever the gods have entrusted to this child... it will be their burden to carry. All I can do is guide them to face life with wisdom."
He accepted the pouch with a solemn nod.
"If you understand that," Madam Liana said, turning to Elda with a piercing gaze, "then don't forget the prescription I've written for you. Understood, Elda?"
Elda swallowed and nodded quickly. "Understood."
Arian smiled at her response, while Elara quietly absorbed every word spoken by the grown-ups around her.
Madam Liana leaned close and whispered something into Elda's ear, to which she smiled and nodded her thanks.
Soon after, they bid farewell and made their way toward the carriage station by the village gate.
"My dear," Arian said as they walked, gently brushing Elda's hair, "I'll pick the most comfortable carriage for us. The ride to the capital might take about an hour."
Under the serene moonlight, Elda looked at her husband with deep affection. Every word, every touch from Arian reminded her of how cherished she was—a feeling not every woman of her age could claim in marriage.
Before they wed, she had feared that love would fade after vows were made, that the fire of their bond would be smothered by routine and duty. But Arian had proven her wrong.
Five years had passed since their wedding, and instead of cooling, his love had only grown deeper. His care never wavered. If anything, it intensified. He always made sure she felt loved, respected, and treasured.
Elda's heart swelled. How could a man still treat her like a queen after all these years?
She smiled softly, reached for Arian's hand, and held it tightly.
Every day with him still felt like falling in love again—over and over, without end.
Between them walked little Elara, watching her parents with bright eyes. She might not have fully grasped what deep love meant, but the warmth flowing between Arian and Elda was enough to make her feel safe.
With rosy cheeks and the earnestness only a five-year-old could muster, she puffed her cheeks and pouted.
"Papa always loves Mama! But Elara wants her hair stroked too!"
Arian and Elda exchanged a glance before chuckling. Arian reached out and gently ruffled her hair, letting his fingers slide through the soft strands.
"Of course, sweetie. Papa loves Elara too," he said, pinching her tiny nose playfully.
Elara beamed, then turned to her mother with wide, sparkling eyes.
"Mama loves Papa too, right?"
Elda giggled and looked down at her daughter. "Of course, darling. Mama loves both Papa and Elara very much," she said, pulling her into a warm embrace.
Elara giggled, basking in the glow of the love surrounding their little family.
By the time the conversation ended, they had arrived at Leonhardt's modest carriage station. The night was quiet, lit by lanterns hanging from simple wooden posts. Two types of carriages stood waiting—sleek passenger carriages and larger freight wagons.
In the corner of the station stood George Windmere and his cousin, Henry Windmere, chatting casually. Thin trails of smoke rose from their pipes, mingling with the rich aroma of steaming black coffee in their wooden mugs.
When George spotted Arian approaching, he grinned wide.
"Arian! Look who's out of the forge!" he called out, his voice hearty and booming.
Henry, more reserved than his cousin, gave a polite nod and a quiet smile.
Arian chuckled. "Yeah, it's been a while! I've been buried in orders—axes, swords, spears... all mid-tier stuff, so I have to take my time."
George nodded in understanding. "Just like me—busy driving passengers all day, both to the city and back. Look around, I'm the only one still working this late."
"You never change, George," Arian chuckled, shaking his head.
They exchanged a knowing glance before bursting into laughter. Behind them, Elda smiled quietly, watching the two men, while little Elara tilted her head, clearly puzzled by the exchange.
When George's gaze shifted to Elda, he noticed the roundness of her belly. The pregnancy was clearly far along. Realizing this, he immediately snuffed out his still-lit pipe and stomped the embers into the ground. Henry followed suit without needing a word.
"Elda! Looks like the baby's coming soon, huh? May your child be born healthy and gifted." George beamed warmly. "Got a name picked out yet?"
Elda returned the smile gently. "Not quite yet, but I've been thinking of a few."
George chuckled and patted his chest with mock confidence. "If you need help, just ask me! I've got a list of the coolest names around!"
Arian chuckled at his friend's antics. "Thanks for the offer, George. But right now, what we need is a ride. We're heading to the capital to shop for baby supplies."
As he spoke, Arian pulled out his coin pouch and counted a few silver pieces. "Ten silver coins, right?" he said playfully, tossing them one by one toward George.
George caught them effortlessly, raising an eyebrow. "Still remember my rates, huh? All right, you can pay the rest after your shopping spree."
"Of course," Arian grinned.
George downed the rest of his coffee in one go, then sprang into motion. With practiced hands, he adjusted the horses' reins and checked the harnesses.
"All right then! Let's get you to the capital!" he called out cheerfully.
Henry opened the carriage door, while Elda gently guided Elara, who was still mesmerized by the glow of the station at night.
The carriage rolled eastward, its wooden wheels gently rattling over the cobbled path. The night air was cool, carrying the earthy scent of fields still clinging to the day's warmth. Crickets chirped in chorus, harmonizing with the soft rustle of leaves swaying in the wind.
Inside the carriage, Elda sat comfortably, her hand occasionally resting on her round belly. Elara nestled beside her, pressing her head against her mother's arm, eyes wide as she gazed at the fireflies dancing through the trees.
"Papa, look! Fireflies!" she exclaimed, pointing outside with a gleeful squeal.
Arian smiled and followed her gaze. The silver moonlight bathed the road, casting shadows of trees that swayed as if dancing with their journey. In the distance, the silhouette of Regiamagna rose like a dream—its high walls and towering spires glittering beneath the stars.
Nearby, on a separate path, construction was underway—tracks for a new Ignisium-powered train, fueled by a special stone capable of producing intense heat. Engineers and laborers were hard at work laying the dual rails, preparing for a future where long-distance travel would no longer rely on horse-drawn carriages.
"We're nearly there," George's voice called from the driver's seat. It was relaxed, yet alert.
Elda exhaled softly, her eyes fixed on the capital looming ever closer. Arian took her hand, squeezing it gently.
As they reached the grand gates of Regiamagna, George steered the horses toward the carriage station just outside the city's entrance. The cart's wheels clacked over the stones as he tugged on the reins, slowing the vehicle to a gentle stop. The horses neighed softly, white steam puffing from their nostrils into the crisp night air.
Arian stepped down first, then turned and opened the carriage door. Carefully, he offered his hand to Elda, helping her down. His gaze held nothing but concern as he ensured she stepped safely onto the cobbles. Then, he bent down and lifted Elara into his arms. Her eyes sparkled as she took in the towering city walls lit by massive lanterns flanking the gate.
"I'll wait here," said George with a small wave. "Have fun out there, my friend."
Arian nodded back with a grateful smile, then turned to lead his family through the towering gate, guarded by armored sentinels standing tall with hands on their sword hilts, eyes trained on every passerby with professional vigilance.
Near the entrance stood an identity verifier, stationed behind a wooden table lit by oil lanterns. He was a middle-aged man in a crisp white robe, with the silver-stitched emblem of the kingdom on his shoulder—clearly a royal official. His eyes were sharp, seasoned from years of gate duty.
"State your name and present your identification," he said in a firm, professional tone.
Arian reached into his coat pocket and retrieved his Kingdom of Invictusia ID card. The verifier placed it atop an Arcanum, a bronze disc etched with intricate magical runes that shimmered faintly under the lantern's glow. As the card touched the surface, the runes lit up, followed by two soft chimes and a green light blinking at the card's edge.
The man inspected the result and nodded. "All in order. You're authorized to stay for ten days in the capital. Enjoy your time in Regiamagna."
He returned the card, and Arian took Elda's hand tightly as they stepped through the city gates.
The heart of Regiamagna opened before them, glowing with the warm light of a thousand lanterns. The air carried the scent of fresh bread and spices from nearby stalls, while the chorus of merchants and street musicians brought the city to life—its vibrant rhythm humming even under the stars.
At Arian's side, Elara's eyes widened in wonder. The streets buzzed with horse-drawn carriages, shouting vendors, and performers strumming lutes or spinning glowing threads of vis into floating patterns.
She gasped, pointing toward the distance where a grand tower rose above the city's skyline.
"Papa, what's that?" she asked, full of awe.
Arian followed her finger and smiled. "That's the Invictusia Palace, where the King lives and rules over the realm."
Elara squinted at the massive structure, marveling at its size. "Why is it so big?"
Arian chuckled and gently stroked her head. "Because that's where all the big decisions are made. Its walls protect the kingdom, and its towers stand as symbols of our nation's glory."
"Does the King live there all alone?" she asked, blinking up at him.
He shook his head. "No, sweetie. There are many people in there—advisors, soldiers, servants, and nobles who come to speak with the King. His throne sits in a great hall lit by giant crystal chandeliers. From there, he watches over all of Invictusia."
Elara smiled and snuggled closer into her father's chest. "Papa's wise too, like a king, right?"
Arian laughed softly, kissing the top of her head. "Maybe not as wise as a king… but I'll always do my best to protect you, just like one."
Elara giggled, satisfied with the answer, and they continued down the cobbled street.
Eventually, they reached the baby supply shop, where the scent of fresh fabric and soft soap greeted them. Wooden shelves lined the interior, stocked with pastel baby clothes, tiny shoes free of even a speck of dust, and all manner of adorable accessories.
But Elara's attention was drawn elsewhere. Across the street, a vendor was setting out his treats—fresh fruit skewers coated in gleaming sugar that crystallized into clear candy shells. Under the lantern light, they glittered like edible jewels.
"Papa! I want the strawberry and grape candy!" she cried, nearly bouncing with excitement.
Arian chuckled, pulling out a few bronze coins and placing them in her tiny hands. "Here you go—ten bronze coins. Go get your treat, sweetie."
Elara took the coins with sparkling eyes and scampered across the road, her oversized dress fluttering as she ran with pure joy.
Meanwhile, Arian and Elda stepped into the shop. Behind the counter stood a middle-aged woman with her hair tied back neatly. Her face lit up the moment she saw them.
"Well, look who's here!" Risa, the shopkeeper, exclaimed cheerfully.
Elda smiled warmly, her eyes glowing. "Time flies so quickly. Feels like just yesterday we were buying baby clothes for Elara here."
Arian nodded quietly, already browsing the racks. His hand brushed over a soft pale-blue onesie embroidered with tiny stars. He paused for a moment, exhaling softly.
"Do you know the baby's gender yet?" Risa asked, curious.
Arian shook his head. "Not yet. But just in case, I'm picking clothes for a boy. If it's a girl, she can still wear Elara's old clothes."
Elda laughed gently, patting her growing belly. "Always so practical. But it won't be long now—we've only got three weeks left."
Risa's smile turned tender. "Three weeks? That means Elara's going to be a big sister soon!"
Just then, Elara burst back into the shop, her face glowing with pride as she held her sticky treat. "Papa, look! I got the big one!"
Risa laughed at the sight. "Oh my! Last time you were here, you were just a baby clutching everyone's fingers. Now look at you—a proper little lady!"
Arian tousled his daughter's hair, and she beamed under the attention. "All right, now help us pick clothes for your sibling."
Elara glanced at her mother's belly, her eyes sparkling. "Three more weeks! I can't wait!"
Risa stepped aside to let them explore. Arian began gathering several outfits—pastel blues, ivory whites, golden creams—all delicately embroidered with stars and moons.
"Would you prefer something with patterns, or plain with a little flair?" Risa asked, holding up an outfit to Elda.
Elda rubbed her belly and smiled. "I like the plain ones with some cute details—like lace or small embroidery."
Arian nodded in agreement, stacking a few more sets on his arm. "I'll take twenty sets, Risa. And add the essentials too—blankets, cloth diapers, and milk bottles."
Risa raised an eyebrow—surprised, and a little impressed.
"Twenty? This little sibling of Elara is certainly being welcomed with full preparation!" She laughed softly, then began tallying up the total.
Meanwhile, Elara was still chewing on her sugary treat, but her eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Papa, can I pick one too?" she asked, looking up at Arian with hopeful eyes.
Arian chuckled and nodded. "Of course. Choose the one you think your little sibling would like best."
Without hesitation, Elara skipped over to the racks, her gaze scanning the rows of tiny outfits with determined care. Finally, her hand settled on a white garment embroidered with a small cloud over the chest. She picked it up carefully and brought it over to her mother.
"What do you think, Mama?" she asked, her voice brimming with hope.
Elda smiled and gently patted her daughter's head. "It's beautiful, sweetheart. A perfect choice."
Risa finished the count and looked at Arian. "That'll be five silver coins—including all the extras."
Arian reached for his coin pouch, took out the silver, and handed them to her.
"Thanks, Risa. Always a pleasure shopping here."
Risa accepted the coins with a warm grin. "Likewise! Wishing you a smooth delivery. And Elara—you'll be a great big sister, I can tell."
Elara puffed out her cheeks in pride and nodded. "Of course! I'll protect my baby brother!"
With their items wrapped and packed into a few cloth bags, Arian, Elda, and Elara stepped back out into the cool night. The soft glow of streetlamps guided their path, while distant voices of lingering townsfolk drifted in the air.
When they finally arrived home, the evening settled in with a quiet warmth.
Days passed in their usual rhythm—Arian at the forge, Elda tending the house, and Elara lost in her playful little world.
Until, at last, the night they had waited for arrived.
Their home was filled with a quiet tension—a mix of nervousness and joy.
Under a peaceful night sky, a new life was ready to enter their world.
Elda lay on the bed, her face tense as the contractions came more frequently. Her breathing was measured, focused—fighting through waves of growing pain. Beside her sat Madam Liana, the village midwife, watching every sign with practiced eyes. Arian stood nearby, anxious but steady, holding Elda's hand tightly as if trying to absorb her burden through sheer presence.
In a corner of the room, Elara watched with wide eyes, her small hands gripping a half-crushed biscuit. She didn't fully understand what was happening, but she knew something important was unfolding—her mother was about to bring her sibling into the world.
The room was thick with tension and hope. Every breath was held between soft groans and Madam Liana's calm instructions. Candles flickered against the night breeze sneaking in from a half-open window, carrying the scent of burning wood and herbs—believed to ease childbirth and protect the soul.
Time passed slowly. The pain grew sharper, Elda's body trembling with sweat on her brow. Liana's voice stayed firm yet kind.
"Almost there, Elda. Deep breaths… now push."
Arian wiped his wife's forehead, his voice trembling in a whisper,
"You can do this, love… you've done it once before."
And then—
A single cry pierced the air.
A baby's wail, loud and sharp, breaking through the silence just as the first light of dawn spilled through the window.
Golden rays bathed the room, wrapping the moment in warmth and grace.
Arian exhaled, a shudder of relief coursing through him.
Elda smiled through her exhaustion, tears shimmering in her eyes.
Elara, who had been silent for what felt like hours, ran forward, still holding her crumbled biscuit. She gazed at the small bundle cradled in Madam Liana's arms—wrapped in warm cloth, crying as if to declare his arrival to the world.
"Is that… my little brother?" she whispered, awe lighting up her face.
Arian smiled, nodding. He knelt down and wrapped his arm around her.
"Yes, sweetie. You're a big sister now."
As sunlight painted the room in soft gold, Madam Liana gently placed the newborn into Elda's arms. Her hands trembling, Elda touched the baby's cheek, and tears slipped down her face. He was so small, yet his presence filled the entire room.
Madam Liana gave him one final check before speaking,
"Congratulations, Elda. Arian."
Her voice was gentle.
"It's a boy. Healthy, strong, and with a powerful cry. He'll grow up to be someone special. Look—his eyes… silver, just like Arian's."
Elda smiled faintly, still catching her breath.
"A boy…" she murmured, as if confirming it for herself.
Arian, who had been holding his breath all along, finally let it out. He sat beside his wife, eyes glistening with joy as he looked down at their son. Gently, he brushed a hand over the baby's head.
His voice broke slightly as he whispered,
"Arsy… Arsy Gofdraig."
Madam Liana nodded with a soft smile.
"A beautiful name. May he grow strong, and bring joy to your family."
In the corner, Elara crept closer, still clutching what was left of her biscuit. She peered down at her brother's wrinkly, red face, then smiled shyly.
"His name's Arsy?" she asked in awe.
Arian nodded and pulled her into a hug. "Yes, sweetheart. You have a baby brother now."
Elara looked at him curiously, then leaned closer.
"Hi, Arsy…" she whispered.
The tiny baby stirred in Elda's arms, his tiny fists clenching and releasing as if reaching for something unseen. His lips moved silently, his breathing soft and slow. One tiny hand reflexively gripped the edge of the cloth around him, clinging to the warmth of this strange new world.
Madam Liana gently patted Arian's shoulder as she packed up her tools.
"Let Elda rest. Childbirth is no small thing," she said softly.
"I'll prepare a herbal tonic to help her recovery."
Arian turned and nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Madam Liana. Truly."
She smiled. "It's my duty. And more than that—I'm happy to witness his birth."
The room that had been filled with tension now held only warmth and wonder.
The Gofdraig Residence
Morning, Stelladay, 20th of Velaris, 1003
Arsy Gofdraig has been born.
Per ignem et malleum, crescimus.
Through fire and hammer, we rise.