The Farewell of Adrossa

Ren stood at the entrance of the cabin longer than he had intended. The central street of Adrossa, which had seemed empty and silent before, was now filled with people. No one shouted, no one celebrated, no one tried to turn it into some grand ceremony, but everyone’s presence there weighed more than any noise could have.

Mara held her daughter’s hand near the well. Garret stood in front of the forge, arms crossed, his apron still stained with charcoal. Uncle Norn carried a bundle of folded furs under one arm. A few hunters stood near the houses with serious expressions, while children peeked from behind the adults, too curious to stay still, but too respectful to run up to him.

Sawe stood beside Ren, watching the scene with a small smile on his face. “I told you they like you.”

Ren tightened his grip on the straps of his backpack. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying an entire village doesn’t wake up before dawn to say goodbye to someone who is only ‘useful.’”

Ren glanced at him. “Did you rehearse that line?”

“No. But it sounded good, so I’m going to pretend I did.”

Ren did not answer. He simply stepped down from the small step of the cabin and began walking along the central street, with Sawe right beside him. As soon as the two moved forward, some people shifted, not to block their path, but to come a little closer. There was a strange hesitation in the way they looked at Ren, as if each of them had something to say, but no one knew exactly where to begin.

The first to approach was Mara. Her daughter stood beside her, still small, her face a little pale, but much better than it had been in the previous days. The girl held a small bundle with both hands. Mara smiled, but her eyes were damp.

“I won’t take much of your time, Ren. I know you need to leave early,” she said.

Ren stopped in front of them and looked at the girl. “She got better.”

Mara squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Thanks to Myrddin’s medicine. And also because you carried water to our house many times when I had to stay with her. Maybe to you it was just another task, but to me it wasn’t.”

Ren looked away slightly. “I was just doing what I could.”

“I know. That’s exactly why it matters.”

The girl took a step forward and held out the bundle. Ren looked at her, then at the cloth. “What is this?”

“Sweet bread,” the girl said quietly. “My mother made it yesterday. There isn’t much honey because almost all of it was gone, but she said it still turned out good.”

Mara let out a short laugh. “I said it turned out acceptable. She insisted on saying it was good.”

Ren took the bundle carefully, as if he were more afraid of tearing it than of carrying a stone weighing hundreds of kilos. “Thank you.”

The girl smiled. “Come back soon!”

Mara stiffened. “Lina.”

“What? Everyone is thinking it.”

Sawe coughed to hide a laugh, while Ren looked at the child for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll try.”

The girl seemed satisfied with the answer, as if it were a serious agreement. Mara ran a hand over her daughter’s hair and stepped aside so Ren could continue.

Farther ahead, Garret waited in front of the forge. He did not move until Ren came closer. The blacksmith was holding something wrapped in dark leather.

“Took you long enough,” Garret said. “I thought you were going to stand in front of the cabin until the sun rose completely.”

“I was walking.”

“Too slowly.”

Ren stopped in front of him, and Garret held out the bundle. “Take it.”

Ren accepted it. The weight was familiar. Metal. When he opened the leather, he found a large knife, simple, with a dark blade and reinforced handle. It was not beautiful, but it looked sturdy. Very sturdy.

“It’s not a sword,” Garret said before Ren could ask anything. “I know you would break a common sword in less than a week if you decided to use too much strength. This is shorter, thicker, and can take a beating better. Use it to cut rope, clear a path, prepare game, and, if necessary, stick it into something that tries to kill you.”

Ren ran his fingers over the handle. “You made this?”

“No. It fell from the sky last night already finished.”

Ren looked at him.

Garret snorted. “Of course I made it, kid. I worked on it for the last two days. It isn’t perfect, because good metal is scarce and you decided to travel right when I had other things to finish, but it should do.”

Ren closed the leather around the knife. “Thank you.”

Garret scratched his short beard, looking uncomfortable with his own emotion. “Don’t thank me. Just come back with it in one piece. And with you in one piece too, if that’s not asking too much.”

“I’ll try.”

“Don’t try. Do it. Trying is an excuse from someone who already started thinking about losing.”

Ren stayed silent for a moment. Then he nodded. “Then I’ll come back.”

Garret held his gaze, serious. Then he brought a heavy hand down on Ren’s shoulder. Ren did not move. Garret flexed his fingers afterward, as if his own hand had felt the impact.

“You still feel like a wall.”

“You hit hard.”

“I hit normally. The problem is you.”

Sawe, beside him, muttered, “Finally, someone besides me said it.”

Ren stored the knife with his backpack, and Uncle Norn was the next to approach. The elderly man walked up to them carrying the bundle of furs he had promised. He was thin, his skin marked by cold and years, but he still held the firm posture of an old hunter.

“These are better than the ones you set aside,” he said, handing the bundle to Sawe. “Nights outside the mountain are deceptive. Some places feel warm during the day and freeze your bones before dawn.”

Sawe received the furs with respect. “Thank you, Uncle Norn. I’ll make sure they’re used well.”

“Make sure he uses them too,” Norn said, pointing at Ren. “That boy thinks feeling cold is an opinion.”

Ren frowned. “I feel cold.”

“And ignore it.”

“Those are different things.”

“That is the problem.”

A few nearby adults laughed softly. Ren noticed. It was not mockery. He was used to being watched while he worked, while he carried things, while he helped. But this was different. They were not waiting for him to do something. They did not need him at that moment. They were just there.

Norn looked at Ren more seriously. “You don’t know the world outside. Don’t pretend you do. When Sawe tells you not to enter somewhere, don’t enter. When he tells you to wait, wait. And when someone smiles too much without reason, keep your hand near the knife.”

Sawe raised one ear. “That last piece of advice is very specific.”

“I would say it is useful at the very least.”

Ren nodded. “I’ll remember.”

“Use your head before your fists, boy. Your fists are good, but your head exists for a reason.”

Garret, behind them, commented, “Sometimes I have my doubts.”

Ren looked at him. “I’m listening.”

“Good. Then you heard the advice.”

Sawe laughed softly, and the walk continued. Some people handed them small things: a bag of dried nuts, extra leather strips, a thick needle with strong thread, a small vial of ointment. Nothing grand. Nothing ceremonial. Just useful items, given by people who knew exactly what a long journey could require. Ren received everything in silence, but not coldly. He thanked them in his own way, with few words, looking at the object and then at the person. To someone who did not know him, it might have seemed distant. To Adrossa, it was enough.

Sawe carried part of the items and mentally calculated what would still fit in the backpacks. “If they keep giving us things, we’ll need a cart.”

“I’ll carry it.”

“That isn’t the solution to everything, Ren.”

“It usually is.”

“Not when we’re trying to travel fast.”

Ren looked at the bundle of furs, then at the extra bags. “Then leave half.”

Sawe shook his head. “You say that now, but when we’re cold or hungry, you’ll complain.”

“Me? Complain?”

Sawe stopped walking for half a second and looked at him. “Ren, you complained for three days because Mara’s root soup had too little salt.”

“But it was true.”

“That is not the point.”

Sawe opened his mouth, thought better of it, and gave up. “I’m going to miss these stupid arguments when you’re sleeping on the ground and pretending you’re comfortable.”

Near the end of the central street, the children began to come closer. Some held small sticks as if they were swords. Others looked at Sawe with admiration, especially the ones who trained mana with him. One boy, perhaps eight years old, stopped in front of Ren.

“Are you going to fight orcs?”

Ren looked at Sawe. Sawe raised his hands. “Don’t look at me. The question is for you.”

Ren turned his eyes back to the boy. “I hope not.”

The boy looked disappointed. “But if you fight, do you win?”

Mara, farther back, scolded, “Ortteen.”

Ren thought for a moment. “Depends.”

The boy’s eyes widened, satisfied with the answer. Sawe leaned a little toward him and said, “And the correct answer is: you should not go looking for fights in foreign territory.”

“But what if the fight comes looking for him?” another child asked.

Sawe stayed silent for a second. Ren looked at him.

Sawe sighed. “Then he tries not to make everything worse.”

Garret laughed loudly in the background. “Good luck with that.”

Ren ignored him.

An older girl, one of those Sawe had trained a few days earlier, approached the feline-man holding a small bracelet made of braided threads. “We made this yesterday,” she said. “It isn’t magic or anything. Just… something to remember to come back.”

Sawe received the bracelet carefully. The threads were simple, with faded colors, but they were well braided. He looked at it for a few seconds before tying it around his wrist. “Thank you. It’s well made.”

The girl smiled proudly. “When you come back, I want to learn how to make that water sphere without letting it fall.”

“Then train your breathing the way I taught you. And don’t try to force mana as if you were pulling a root out of the ground.”

She nodded seriously. Ren watched the scene without saying anything. Sawe noticed and looked at him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You have the face of someone about to say something.”

“I just thought it was strange.”

“What?”

“You looking responsible.”

Sawe narrowed his eyes. “I am responsible.”

“Sometimes.”

“I’m more responsible than you.”

“That isn’t hard.”

Sawe opened his mouth, but the girl laughed before he could answer. That broke his seriousness for a moment.

They continued to the northern entrance, where Myrddin was waiting. The old man remained leaning on his light-wood staff, watching everything with the same calm as always. Behind him, the stone markers appeared through the mist. Beyond them, the trail descended the mountain and disappeared into the white.

[...]

©JAE-HOON