Wardens, warriors, adventurers—they all hear it, the devilish whisper that stirs deep within, the pull of instinct and raw emotion that drives them forward.
Wardens—those steadfast guardians, standing as the protectors of both the empire and its common folk. Their duty is to shield and serve, ensuring the safety of all.
I always thought that with enough hard work, I could carry that heroic burden too.
I looked around, half laughing, half sighing. How had a talented young lad like me wound up stuck in a mess like this?
Deep down, I knew the truth: it was my recklessness that had brought me here. Becoming a warden was my dream, sure, but no one forced my hand. I chose this path, and now I have to walk it.
With a shovel in hand, I kept digging. If someone found out what I was digging, I'd end up in jail. So I dug as quickly as I could.
It's hard to tell if what's buried here belongs to me or someone else. Depending on who asks, my answer would change.
My hands had begun to lose feeling. To confirm, I carefully examined the tree in front of me once more. Indeed, there was a cut. This was the correct tree.
The tree before me has a cut, clearly made by an axe. I'm certain that what I'm searching for is somewhere near this particular tree.
Finally, after another hour or so, I hear the sound of wood, eerily similar to the sound made by that person.
The thing I'm trying to retrieve through this surprisingly dangerous activity is a simple wooden box. My parents gave it to me long ago to store my "amazing treasures." And that's exactly what I did. I used it to bury something — something I'm about to retrieve.
I placed the wooden box on the ground. The wood was a little rotten. This was the same box that had been my first birthday gift, given to me by my parents just as I was learning to walk. Now, it was covered in dirt. I made a mental note to give at least my parents a farewell gift. After all, even if my older brother had received fancy toys instead of this "lousy" box, it ended up being a lifesaver in the end.
I looked around to make sure no one was nearby and then opened it. Inside was an engraved axe and a badge. I took a closer look at the badge. It said 'Warden' and the name of our empire, 'Naidour.' My heart skipped a beat. It wasn't magical, but it felt a bit magical. Warden badges are made of tin, and some people call them 'tin stars,' though it's not just warden badges with that name. The badge had an amazing design, and the star in the middle was well-made.
There's also an axe, but I'm not particularly interested in it; I plan to sell it at the first opportunity. It's a Franciscan axe. The most significant detail about this axe is that it's made of magic steel, which is quite expensive. I took it anyway.
The axe. It's a little dusty, but that shouldn't be an issue. I only have time for one throw; I'm already taking too many chances. I took my stance and aimed at a random tree about four meters away. After a moment of careful aim, I threw it. It made a small cut, and the sound was noticeable, but the axe didn't embed itself in the tree. Instead, it fell to the ground.
I'm a bit disappointed, but throwing an axe is harder than it seems. Usually, I only succeed about six out of ten times. I'm better with swords and spears than with axes. But axes are the most common weapons among wardens.
I grabbed the shovel again and destroyed the box. After making sure it was completely broken, I buried it once more—this time for good. I slipped the axe into my belt and the badge into my pocket, then continued toward my house, the shovel still in my hands.
It's the middle of the night, and my family has already completed their first sleep, so I might be able to go unnoticed if I play my cards right.
I told my family I was just going for a walk. They can't know I have these things with me.
I finally arrive at my family's farm. I look inside the barn and see no one, so I enter. I walk around, searching for something. At last, I find what I was looking for—an empty grain bag. I had left it here this morning, carefully hidden to make sure no one could find it.
I place the axe inside the bag and hide it again, behind the hay. I also leave the shovel. I should sell the axe as soon as possible.
After making sure the axe is successfully hidden, I begin to leave the barn, but stop to pet my horse, of course.
"Tell anyone, and I'll blame it all on you. Deal?" I say as I pet my horse.
Even after all this time, I still haven't named him. I don't want to get too familiar with him, after all—he could die, or I might sell him. He's a mustang with a bay pelt.
Finally, I enter my house. My family is probably in the living room, praying. They usually do so before their second sleep. I go upstairs and enter my room.
The moment I step into my room, I slip the badge inside my chest, hiding it away. I'm grateful for having my own space, something my two siblings can't say for themselves. They're stuck sharing a room.
With all the equipment and random things I've gathered over time, and the fact that my room is often used as a makeshift storage space, it's become even messier than my siblings' room.
As I prepare for bed, I wash my face in the basin and settle under the covers. "Sweet dreams," I murmur to myself, a ritual I've embraced more often as winter wanes. The end of the season signals the start of my journey to the capital, and I must be ready. With these thoughts, sleep gradually overtakes me.