When I was little, because my mom and dad went missing, I lived at my grandparents’ house.
In front of the house, there were several Moonlight Magnolia trees planted when Grandma and Grandpa got married. Every autumn, they gave off a faint fragrance, and the leaves turned a moon-like pale blue.
Grandpa was once a decorated veteran of the Southern Legion, and we lived comfortably on his pension. But after he passed away, life became difficult.
Grandma was a weaver, crafting durable and beautiful cloth in her youth. But after marrying Grandpa, she hadn’t touched her loom for a long time, and following my parents’ disappearance, she lived in a daze for many years—until Grandpa also passed, the grief urged her to recover herself.
For my sake, Grandma picked up the dusty loom again. Her cloth was still tough and reliable, but it sold for not much, barely enough to keep us fed. Occasionally, she had to sell old family belongings to make ends meet, and I learned to craft flower wreaths in autumn from the Magnolia blossoms, though we remained in need.
Later, I understood the reason: a weaving factory opened in Nauman City. Since then, individually crafted cloth was hard to sell for a good price.
I hated that factory. Grandma’s cloth was so beautiful, yet so hard to sell.
Life was simplistic and impoverished, but occasionally, Grandma would set aside a couple of eggs for me.
She said a young boy needs to eat nutritious food to grow well.
She said she was sorry, that Grandpa and Grandma couldn’t protect anything, neither my parents nor me.
She said, Loran, you need to grow up fast; Grandma can’t take care of you for long.
Grandma had nothing to apologize for, though.
I wanted to grow up fast.
The Moonlight Magnolia bloomed twice, and as I gradually grew up, I could go to town to find odd jobs. The carpenter next door was willing to take me on as an apprentice. I paid my respects, and Grandma happily sold the jewelry from her marriage to Grandpa to fund my apprenticeship.
The autumn of the second year of my apprenticeship was the time when the Magnolia bloomed, and I found out the cause of my parents’ death.
They were merchants attached to a large syndicate surrounding the Agate Stone Plains; a risky but not dangerous job in South Ridge, as long as one doesn’t venture south of Indigo Mountain.
Their disappearance wasn’t due to Magical Beasts or bandits, but a noble devoted to an evil cult trying to resurrect his child.
My parents... My mom and dad... became his experiments.
Huai Guang Church and a young White Folks knight discovered the lord’s evil deeds, and that lord met his end on a stormy summer night.
The White Folks knight seemed to be a powerful person, and he took over from the wicked lord, Grandma wept as she told me she finally understood where her children were buried—they could finally come home.
They were buried beside Grandpa.
Everything seemed to be heading for the better, no need for Grandma to scrimp on eggs, and the master occasionally gave me eggs, supposedly because a chicken farm opened next to Nauman City, making eggs cheap.
I liked the chicken farm. But I vaguely sensed it was similar to the weaving factory; at least now, I could afford simple clothes.
I felt somewhat lost.
Regardless of good or ill, Grandma could finally rest.
But shortly after, a famine struck.
Grandma also fell ill.
Rumors said it was the Alliance of Fiery Flame Land doing mischief, spreading disease on our land, ruining crops, driving beasts wild, and starving people.
Normally, such diseases wouldn’t affect humans, but Grandma had grown too weak.
Fiery Flame Land... It was my first time hearing another country’s name, my first time hating a name so intensely.
I couldn’t afford medicine or food... Even my master’s family started to worry, forcing me to return home. Follow current novels on 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵·𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖·𝙣𝙚𝙩
Though the Governor promised stable grain prices, they were still much higher than usual.
I sold all our remaining furniture at home, caught cicada pupae lurking under the trees, and scavenged wild vegetables and unspoiled tree fruit outside town... But forget about medicine, we could barely make porridge.
Grandma weakened bit by bit, and I was helpless. It wasn’t just a disease, but years of sorrow and malnutrition.
Grandma was dying. I sat there, dried up. I didn’t even shed tears; there was no time to cry, I was desperately seeking a solution.
I hated this version of myself.
But perhaps it was a miracle.
A massive caravan stretched for a dozen miles into the Southern Territory, and grain prices quickly dropped.
They even brought affordable medicine, with doctors along the way offering free consultations.
They claimed to be hired by a knight named Ian of White Folks, aiming to do good with fair-priced grain and free treatments.
Grouchy town merchants said this knight sought fame, as he became a noble he was building a good reputation for himself.
Other merchants said this knight had just cleared all the other knights from his territory; he aimed to win hearts and attract some impoverished folk to work his lands.
Damn it, who cares. If someone could treat Grandma, I’d toil for them forever!
I rushed to the large town where they were offering free consultations, begging them to heal Grandma.