In the streets of Elaris, the smell of fresh bread filled the air. Morning sunlight clung to the town, glinting off stone roofs and worn cobblestones. A blur darted between the stalls, a boy with dark hair and crimson green eyes, clutching a loaf of bread to his chest. His worn-out leather boots clamped against the ground as he ran with a playful grin on his face.
"Stop right there, you brat!" one of the guards shouted, his armor clanking as he gave chase. Another followed close behind, their boots echoing across the streets.
The boy didn't look back. His breath came in sharp bursts, but a smile stretched across his dirt-smudged face. "Almost there…" he muttered, his voice small yet determined.
He slipped through a narrow gap between two stone houses, the guards too broad to follow. For a moment, he thought he'd escape- until a heavy hand grabbed his collar.
"Got you!"
The boy froze. The bread slipped from his grasp, rolling into the dirt.
The guard scowled. "You again, Modred? How many times must we tell you-"
"I wasn't stealing!" Modred protested quickly, his voice trembling.
"I was…. I was just hungry, that's all!"
The guards sighed, glancing at his companion. "You always are."
They scolded him briefly before letting him go, leaving him to pick up the dirtied loaf. As the guards walked off, their laughter faded down the street, swallowed by the hum of waking town.
Modred brushed the dust from his knees and took a small bite of what was left. It was hard and dry, but it was still edible and better than the ones his grandfather made.
From the mountain ridge above the town, the great view of Elaris stretched endlessly- forests, rivers, faint trail of smoke from distant villages, and the glistening capital of the kingdom with its magnificent infrastructure. Modred climbed these mountains every evening, his little body moving with ease of habit.
At the summit stood a small wooden house, weathered by wind and snow. There, his grandfather waited, Igred- a tall, broad shouldered man with grey hair and the same green eyes as Modred.
"You've been running around again," the old man said, not looking up from the fire he was tending.
Modred grinned sheepishly. "Only a little."
Igred sighed. "You've got spirit I can give you that kid. But remember, boy… the world beyond these mountains isn't kind."
Modred didn't reply. He just stared out at the horizon, the fading sun painting the sky a deep crimson, admiring the blazing lights and towers of the royal capital filled with history which echoed through centuries.
After tending the fire, Igred turned to Modred who was admiring the vast horizon. "So, what are you planning to be when u finally reach of age? It would be better if you joined the workers' guild, you'd make a good builder, with that strength of yours….. "
"I want to be a soldier just like you were, old man," Modred interrupted.
Igred's eyes flickered with surprise. "And what makes you sure you can do that?"
A grin appeared at the corner of Modred's mouth as he turned to his grandfather. "Because I can."
The fire crackled between them, its glow reflecting in his emerald-green eyes. For a moment, Igred was startled, surprised by the amount of confidence emanating from him. He leaned back slightly, studying him. Then a quiet chuckle escaped him. "You're just like him," he murmured, almost to himself.
"Like who?" Modred asked, tilting his head.
He didn't answer. His gaze lingered on the boy, but for an instant a faint afterimage appeared-a tall figure with long dark hair and a bright smile, a memory burned deep within Igred's mind.
The vision faded as quickly as it came. Igred blinked, taking a slow breath.
"Nothing," He replied, the usual calm tone returning. He rose, hands behind his back, eyes on the horizon. "Go to bed. We have a long day tomorrow, so stop grinning there like an idiot."
Modred laughed, brushing dust off his knees. "Yeah, yeah! Old man, you don't need to nag me about it!"