The three suns had begun to dip behind the horizon, casting long golden shadows across the cracked earth and ruined stone. Shirou's boots crunched softly on the gravel-strewn road as he guided Nana through the silent slums. The air was thick with the stench of ash and old soot, still lingering from fires long extinguished. Broken market stalls stood like skeletal reminders of a more prosperous time, their wooden beams snapped and their awnings fluttering limply in the wind.
Nana clutched his hand tightly, her grip more desperate than weak. She hadn't said a word in the last hour, but her silence carried weight. Her wide eyes flicked toward every alley and every shadow.
He glanced down at her. "Tired?"
She nodded, the faintest movement, but said nothing.
"We'll rest soon," Shirou assured her. "Just a little further."
That's when he heard it—shouting, the clash of metal, and a high-pitched whinny of a horse in distress. Smoke curled above the rooftops just beyond the line of a worn-down warehouse.
Shirou narrowed his eyes.
A caravan.
Two wagons stood defensively amidst a half-circle of bandits. A man in a tattered merchant's cloak struggled to shield a young girl behind him while their hired guards lay unmoving on the ground. Flames licked the side of one overturned wagon.
Shirou immediately turned to Nana and crouched beside her behind a broken wall.
"Stay here," he said firmly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Don't move until I come back. Understand?"
Her lips trembled, but she nodded. She trusted him. That was enough.
Shirou stood and drew his temporary sword—an average steel blade, sharp but unremarkable. No flame, no enchantments. Just metal and resolve.
Five bandits.
One turned and saw him. "Well, look what we have here—"
Shirou was already moving. He closed the gap in a blink and slammed the hilt of his sword into the man's jaw. The bandit dropped like a sack of bricks. Another swung a club—Shirou ducked, stepped in, and swept the man's legs out from under him. His sword flashed once, clean, efficient.
Three down.
The remaining two turned to run, dropping their weapons in panic. The clash was over before it had begun.
The merchant blinked, eyes wide. "W-We're alive?"
A girl with wild, shoulder-length hair peeked out from behind him. She looked to be around thirteen, her bright eyes filled with awe.
"You were amazing!" she exclaimed.
Shirou sheathed his blade and approached slowly. "You're not hurt?"
"No, thanks to you," the merchant said, dusting off his tattered coat. "I'm Varan. This is my daughter, Lin. We were headed to the capital. If not for you… They would've taken everything."
Shirou turned his head. Nana was still behind the wall, peeking out with cautious eyes. He gave her a nod, and she hurried to his side.
"She with you?" Varan asked.
"Yes."
"Then allow me to return the favour," Varan offered, gesturing toward the caravan. "We're heading to Velgrath. We'll give you a ride."
Shirou hesitated. Strangers meant risk. But walking further with a child through a bandit-ridden region meant worse.
Lin grinned. "Come on! We've got space—and I promise, Father doesn't snore that loud."
Shirou allowed himself the faintest smirk. "Alright."
---
The wagon rocked gently as it moved down the road, the wheels creaking in rhythm with the horse's hooves. Shirou sat opposite Lin and Nana. The two girls chatted quietly, Lin doing most of the talking, but Nana listening with rapt attention, occasionally smiling—a rare sight.
Nana reached toward Lin's neck, where a thin silver chain held a translucent crystal.
Shirou's eyes were drawn to it, too.
Lin noticed his stare and lifted the pendant. "It's a mana stone. Or a piece of one. It doesn't have any mana left, though. My mom gave it to me… before she passed away."
"I'm sorry," Shirou said quietly.
Lin shrugged, trying to act older than her years. "It's fine. I like to think she still watches over me through it."
Nana seemed fascinated. Lin unhooked the necklace and offered it to her. "You can hold it for a bit. But you have to give it back, okay?"
"Okay," Nana replied with a beaming smile.
Shirou watched her, his chest tightening slightly. For days, she had been a ghost—quiet, afraid, hiding behind him like a shadow. Now she was laughing. Smiling.
He raised a hand to his mouth and paused.
He was smiling too.
And it felt… good.
He looked out the window of the wagon, letting the wind brush past his face as dusk deepened into the evening.
"Is she your sister?" Varan's voice broke the silence.
"Yes," Shirou replied.
"Heading to the city for a new start?"
"You could say that."
"It's the right choice," Varan said, leaning back with a sigh. "Especially for someone your age. The outer zones aren't safe anymore."
Shirou glanced around at the crates and sacks in the wagon bed. "Are you a farmer? Is this your harvest?"
Varan chuckled. "Used to be. We had a small field. Couldn't maintain it well—low funds, low yields. Then the war came. Lost our home. The land. Everything."
Shirou studied the man's face. There was no pity there. Only quiet pride.
"And?" Shirou asked.
"After the war, the outskirts turned into this wasteland. Everyone rushed to the centre, toward the city. But I stayed. I knew this was my chance. I've always been a clever man—even as a boy."
Lin coughed theatrically.
Varan glanced at her, chuckled again, and then continued. "People wanted to sell off their land for dirt-cheap. I bought what I could. Now I own a decent patch. I grow staple crops and sell them to distributors in the city. It's not glamorous, but it feeds us. Gets Lin her books and clothes."
Shirou nodded. "What about the bandits?"
"Normally, we hire protection," Varan admitted. "But lately, there haven't been any attacks. Guess I got complacent this time. Lucky you were around."
The wagon turned a bend, and suddenly the scenery began to shift. The buildings grew taller and sturdier. Smoke curled from chimneys, and voices echoed faintly in the distance. Roads widened. The presence of civilisation pressed in with a strange kind of weight.
Shirou's eyes sharpened.
Velgrath.
A grand city, its towering spires and bustling markets, a stark contrast to the ruin they had left behind. Carriages passed by, ornate and swift. Guards patrolled the gates with polished armour and clipped commands.
"Welcome," Varan said with a wide grin. "To Velgrath—the Eastern Kingdom. The economic heart of Lucariaus."