Chapter 4: The Wall That Can't Be Overcome
The cart rolled steadily along the dirt road, its wooden wheels murmuring a low, familiar tune against the packed earth. It was the kind of sound that settled into the bones without asking, steady and patient, as if the road itself were breathing beneath them. Not because the path was even, but because the horse had perfect control. Dust lifted in small, lazy puffs with every turn of the wheels, hanging briefly before drifting away like half-formed thoughts.
There was comfort in that rhythm. The cart was moving, yet it almost felt still, the dust rising beneath the wheels and settling again as if the road had accepted the cart as part of its routine.
Braxon sat at the front, his back straight but unforced, a newspaper spread open in his hands. The reins lay slack at the edge of the cart. He had not touched them in miles. Old Gray did not need guiding. The great war horse moved with calm certainty, ears forward, hooves finding every rut and bend without hesitation. Home was not a direction to him. It was a knowing.
Behind Braxon, Kai and Anya leaned against the empty crates, their legs stretched out, boots knocking together now and then as the cart rocked gently beneath them. The space that had once been crowded with goods now felt wide and open, almost echoing.
"It feels strange," Anya said at last, breaking the comfortable quiet.
She swung her legs slowly, toes brushing the cart's edge. "The cart's empty now."
Kai glanced around, then nodded. "Yeah. I keep thinking I forgot something." He frowned, then shrugged. "But I don't think I did."
Anya tilted her head, thinking hard. "It feels like the cart was empty" she added. "It's not sad empty!"
Kai smiled at that. "Happy empty," he said.
Anya kicked her heels against the cart's wooden edge, letting them thump softly in time with the wheels.
"It's weird," she said. "I keep expecting the eggs to roll out."
Kai snorted. "They can't. They're gone."
"I know," she said quickly. "I just mean… it feels wrong when it's this empty."
Kai shifted, stretching his arms above his head. "It's not wrong. It's finished."
Anya turned to him with a frown. "You sound like Dad."
He grinned. "I'm twelve. I'm allowed."
She snorted. "No, you're not."
Braxon smiled faintly at that but said nothing.
The cart rolled on, the fields opening wide on either side of the road. Tall grass rippled in the breeze, whispering softly. Somewhere far off, a bird cried out. The air smelled of warm earth and growing things.
Anya leaned closer to Kai, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. "I liked the bard more than the market."
Kai nodded immediately. "Me too."
"He made it sound like everything mattered," she went on. "Even the scary parts."
"Especially the scary parts," Kai said. "Those are the important ones."
She tilted her head. "Why?"
Kai thought about it, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Because if you know about them, they can't surprise you as much."
Anya considered that carefully, then nodded. "I liked the World Tree best."
Kai looked at her, surprised. "Really? Not the griffins?"
"They were cool," she admitted. "But the tree was nicer. It takes all the bad things so everyone else doesn't have to."
Kai's smile softened. "That part made my chest feel weird."
Anya pressed a hand to her own chest. "Yeah. Here."
They fell quiet for a moment, listening to Old Gray's hooves and the steady hum of the wheels.
Then Anya gasped softly. "If the tree drinks all the bad things… wouldn't it taste awful?"
Kai blinked. "I don't know."
"We should be thankful to the world tree," she said seriously.
Kai smiled, thoughtful. "I think that's what the songs are for."
She grinned. "Good. Then it knows."
Old Gray snorted softly, his ears flicking back as if he approved of the idea.
A breeze brushed past them, lifting Anya's hair. She stretched her arms wide. "If I had wings like the griffins," she said, "I'd fly over the farm every morning so everyone could see me."
Kai laughed. "You'd fall off."
"No, I wouldn't."
"You trip over air," he said.
"That's different," she protested. "Flying air is nicer air."
He rolled his eyes. "Sure."
She leaned toward him, smiling mischievously. "If you had wings, you'd try to be all serious about it."
Kai scoffed. "No, I wouldn't."
"You would," she insisted. "You'd be like, 'I must patrol the skies.'"
He laughed despite himself. "That does sound kind of cool."
Anya yawned suddenly, covering her mouth with both hands. "I don't want today to end."
Anya's words began to blur, stretching and folding in on themselves as sleep tugged at her eyelids.
"And then he said… fate sharpens its…" she murmured, her voice trailing off, her lashes drooping.
"Blade," Kai finished softly, a small smile on his lips, though his own eyes felt heavy. Their voices blended into whispers, half-sung fragments of the bard's song drifting between them like dust caught in sunlight.
Anya leaned against the side of the cart, shoulders relaxing, breath slowing, as sleep claimed her without warning.
Kai stayed awake a little longer, his gaze tracing the familiar ruts and curves of the road. There was a kind of comfort in them, a rhythm he could almost hum along with.
"Dad?" Kai's suddenly asks, his voice was tentative, almost swallowed by the breeze.
"Yes?" Braxon answered, his tone calm, steady.
"Have you ever seen the Knight King Garron?" Kai asked, eyes wide with curiosity, a little awe threading through the question. "They say he's like a wall. A wall that can't be overcome. Is that true?"
Old Gray's ears flicked back, alert, as though the horse, too, wanted to hear the answer.
"A wall doesn't stand because it cannot be broken," Braxon said slowly, his gaze distant, seeing the echoes of history in his mind. "It stands because it chooses to hold."
Kai tilted his head, the rhythm of drowsiness tugging at him. "But… how did he stop the Empire of the Spire? Weren't they… unstoppable?"
Braxon's lips curved faintly. "They thought so. Machines, ships, spies everywhere. The skies full of towers, the lands full of armies. Many believed nothing could resist them."
"And Garron did?" Kai's voice was almost a whisper now, as if saying it too loud might shatter the story.
"He did," Braxon said. "But not with sheer force. He didn't meet them with armies alone. He held the people and the plains together. He built walls, yes, but they are not only made out of stone, bycourage, by loyalty. And by watchfulness. The Spire could see the land, but they could not bend it."
Kai's eyes were wide, shining even in the dim light. "So… they couldn't take the land because he and his knights… are more stronger?"
"In ways they could never see," Braxon said. "Strength is not just steel or magic. Strength is knowing the land, standing with the people, and holding when everything pushes to break you. That is what makes a wall unyielding."
Anya stirred, murmuring in her sleep, clutching a folded scrap of cloth like a tiny banner. "I want to be like him…"
Braxon's gaze softened, a quiet ache in his chest. "One day, perhaps," he whispered. "For now, it's enough to hear the story. Even the mightiest empire falters when the people refuse to yield. And even the bravest knights need hearts like steel, ready to watch, ready to protect, ready to hold."
The cart hummed over the uneven path, Old Gray's hooves keeping steady rhythm. Fields rolled by, gold and green in the late afternoon light. Kai's eyes grew heavier, images of floating towers, knights, and endless plains mingling with the lingering notes of Bard Luise's song. Anya, already asleep, smiled faintly as the sun kissed the horizon.
By the time the farmhouse appeared, the sun was dipping low, long shadows stretching across the fields. Aveline stepped onto the porch, shawl wrapped around her shoulders, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the returning cart.
"They're back," she called, brushing dust from her hands.
Braxon slid down carefully, navigating the crates. Inside, the children were curled against the cart sides, deep in dreams.
Anya's fingers twitched as if she were still clapping to the bard's final chord, while Kai mumbled a few half-formed notes.
"They're completely out," Braxon murmured. "We'll need to lift them."
Aveline smiled, soft and knowing. "After a day like that, it's no wonder."
Together they lifted Kai first, careful to support his small frame, then Anya, who still clutched the ribbon from the market stalls in her sleep. Their breathing was soft, peaceful, almost a rhythm of its own.
Braxon carried Kai to his room, tucking him in gently, smoothing the blanket around him. Aveline carried Anya upstairs, brushing hair back from her face.
"They'll dream of the songs and stories," Aveline whispered, fingers lingering on Anya's shoulder.
"They've learned a little today," Braxon said quietly, "and tomorrow, more awaits."
Downstairs, the empty cart waited outside. Coins were counted, gold crowns gleaming alongside silver shillings and copper pieces.
In Aethermoor, money flows in three main forms.Gold Crowns for big purchases, Silver Shillings for everyday trade,Copper Coins for small things, a loaf of bread, a carton of eggs, a tip for a bard.
Gold crowns can be exchanged for twenty Silver Shillings, Silver Shillings can be exchanged to 12 copper coins.
The system makes life simple, fair, and flexible for farmers, merchants, and artisans alike.
Aveline stacked the coins with care. "The foal sold for two crowns. Eggs, milk, butter. All gone. A good day."
Braxon nodded. "Old Gray deserves thanks, too. He carried us there and back without complaint."
"And the children," Aveline said softly. "Safe. Dreaming. Learning in their sleep."
The farmhouse settled into quiet evening. Animals fed, coins counted, the children dreaming of knights, griffins, deserts, and the World Tree. Outside, the land seemed to exhale.
The stories lingered in the air, and stayed in their dreams, whispering of courage, loyalty, and walls that stand because they must, and because they care.