I ran my hands on the stone slab; it was covered in water leaving behind a cold sensation across my fingertips. As I moved my hand across the stone, I traced around where the stone had been carved. It was clearly done with meager tools as I weaved between the sharp edges between the letters and numbers.

I placed my hand on the dirt below the slap as it was wedged deep into the ground. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it,” I chuckled. I turned my gaze back to the stone slap as I read the inscription.

Mark Lance

350-430

A beloved friend and grandfather

“Today is finally the day gramps,” I looked down to the muddy dirt, letting out a sigh of relief. It had been seven months since my grandfather died, seven months since my only family member left this world.

I looked around the graveyard; there were about thirty other graves, some with more complex designs, otherwise with flowers, and some freshly dug waiting for It's the new owner.

I wonder what my parents would have said to me in this situation. It was a question I would never know the answer to, no matter how much I asked. I was the only person within the graveyard, no friends and no family, just me as the rain continued to pour.

I never met my parents, to begin with, which made a lot of sense given how I was an accident. My grandfather rarely talks about his son, my father, but apparently, there was a time where they all lived in the city Imperia, the capital of Arcos.

In my dad’s late twenties, he became a big gambler living a life dictated by winning or losing. After a couple of years of this cycle, my dad finally struck big and managed to earn more money than most people did in a lifetime. Excited, joyful, and supposedly drunk, based on my grandfather’s account, he decided to celebrate by hiring a prostitute for the night who ended up becoming pregnant, becoming my mother.

This accidental pregnancy was not taking as a blessing but became a problem for my mother and her line of work, and my dad continued to gamble away. My mother, who liked the idea of raising a child of her own, begged my father to help raise the child.  

Over the months before my birth, they ended up falling madly in love, and my dad promised to make sure that their child would live a wonderful life with all the riches in the world.

My dad, set on his promise, began to gamble more than he could bet on, causing a gang to force his hand and borrow money. Slowly living on a rising debt, unable to pay, the gang murdered him exactly four weeks before my arrival. They apparently used fire magic to burn him alive, a cruel and painful death.

The gang ultimately found out about my mother threatening to kill her and the baby she carried. After my arrival, and knowing she was cornered, she gave me to my dad’s father, who she kept in touch with after my dad's death.

My grandfather ran off to the countryside, knowing that it would be safer than staying near the gang, and used the rest of the money from his son's winnings to buy a house and raise his grandson.

I stood up and dusted off my knees, the muddy dirt left behind wet stains near my knees on my pants. I patted the tombstone and threw on the hood of my jacket as I headed into town.

I lived in a small village called Urna that was about a three-week trip by horseback from Imperia. As I walked away from the graveyard located near the outskirts of the town, it was clear that Urna suffered from a lack of money. Looking around the dull grey sky, the muddy dirt roads, and the plain stone houses caused the village to look incredibly dead.

I reached the main road in the village; most of the houses were closed off with only the tavern and the trade house open. A couple of people were on the other side of the street, sitting on the ground.

No matter how hard I tried to ignore it, Urna was not the ideal place to live, but since my grandfather had to escape from the gangs, it made sense to come to such a poorly established village to hide.

I took a sharp turn left on the corner and walked up the hill. To my right was a small farm; the crops had barely grown, given it was just the start of the season.

As I reached the top of the hill; I opened the door to a small hut; it was far smaller than the other houses. I looked down the hill; most of the houses were to the west of the main street; it was always strange that the house was so isolated from the town.

I opened the door and walked inside; it was a barebones design, with a small fireplace in the back, a small kitchen consisting of just a couple of shelves: the back right, a bed in the front right corner, and a couch in the left. There were no walls between the areas and without a shower, so I had to go to the lake nearby to wash.

I grabbed a cloth towel hanging from the edge of the bed and tried to dry off my hair. “It always rains here,” I remarked. I quickly looked under the bed and reached out for the two gifts my grandfather left behind, an old book containing spells and an iron sword.

I reached out for the blade. As I touched the hilt, the leather brushed across my palm; due to the age of the blade, the hilt had leather peeling off while the blade itself was covered in some chips across the edges. I left the spellbook under the bed and pulled the blade from under.

I took a couple of swings with the blade. Between my grandfather teaching me, I spent much of my free time learning basic sword fighting to follow my dreams of becoming a champion.

Though it had been seven months since the death of my grandfather, it had been about two years since he succumbed to a strange illness. Unable to be healed by any of the healers or the doctor in the village, he was forced to bed rest in hopes of recovering. The day never came, and instead, in the final moments of his life, he smiled and spoke the words I’d remember for my life.

“Become the greatest for your gramps.”

Just the memory of his words caused me to tighten my grip on the blade; I wished he I could’ve at least seen the start of my journey, so at least he knew his wish would be fulfilled.

I grabbed the sheathe from the top of the bed and sheathed the blade as I adjusted the strap, so the sword rested comfortably on my back.

I might as well head out now, there wasn’t much of a reason to relax in the house, so I swung the door open and walked down the hill. The moment I had been waiting for was within arm’s reach.

As I reached the bottom of the hill, took a left turn, and walked across the road to a large building, its marble columns rose high; the white architecture made it clear why the building was created.

The local church.

The front doors rose well above my head with huge iron handles to swing them open. As I walked closer to the front, I took in a deep breath. It’s nothing to fear.

I grabbed the iron handle and swung it to knock on the door; the noise echoed in the silent village. The door creaked open as I took a step back. From inside the church, a man stepped out with a smile.

“Acemore Lance! It’s a pleasure to see you!” The man wore black garments; his brown hair was short and flat, with his eyes shielded by his spectacles.

“Hey Martin,” I lowered my head as I greeted Martin. An old friend of my grandfather who helped my grandfather escape the city, soon after my grandfather’s death, Martin was placed to watch over me until I was of age.

“What brings you here on this rainy day,” Martin let out a chuckle as he looked up to the sky.

“I am here for the examination,” I tightened my fist, “I want to determine my status and authority.”

“It’s still hard to believe that you turned fifteen two months ago,” Martin furrowed his brow at the thought.

“And since then, I’ve been practicing day and night to prepare for this day,” I remarked.

“Is that so?” Martin let out a smile, “Then I guess we should get started!” I let out a light chuckle at his words.

“Agreed.”

Martin walked back inside the church, gesturing me to follow. Without hesitation, I quickly followed from behind.

I hope you’re watching gramps.