Hope is dangerous.
Yet without it, no one survives.”
The warm loaf of bread disappeared much faster than Raimer had intended.
He sat quietly on the pile of hay inside the abandoned barn, breaking the bread into small pieces instead of devouring it all at once.
Years of living on the streets had taught him to make every meal last, even when hunger screamed for more.
Across from him, Captain Rowan leaned against one of the old wooden beams.
The officer had removed his heavy gloves and rested his helmet beside him, revealing a weathered face marked by countless winters.
Neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn’t awkward.
It simply felt…
peaceful.
For the first time in years, Raimer shared a meal with another person.
The wind whistled through the cracks in the walls while snow drifted lazily outside.
After several minutes, Rowan finally broke the silence.
“You’ve been here a long time.”
Raimer nodded.
“Almost three years.”
“So this old barn is your home?”
He glanced around at the leaking roof and broken walls.
“It keeps the snow off me.”
“Most of the time.”
Rowan smiled faintly.
“I’ve slept in worse places during campaigns.”
Raimer looked at him with mild surprise.
“I thought captains stayed inside tents.”
“Tents leak.”
“…Fair enough.”
A quiet laugh escaped both of them.
It was brief…
But genuine.
Rowan’s expression slowly became more serious.
“The War of Fronin…”
He stopped for a moment.
“…You lost your family there.”
Raimer stared at the remaining piece of bread in his hands.
Memories he spent years trying to bury resurfaced.
The sound of burning houses.
The screams.
The crimson sky.
“I don’t like talking about it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“…”
“But sometimes speaking makes the burden lighter.”
Raimer remained silent.
Eventually…
He sighed.
“My father wasn’t a knight.”
“He was a blacksmith.”
“He made farming tools more often than swords.”
A faint smile crossed his face.
“He always complained whenever soldiers came asking for repairs.”
“‘A sword that breaks is the owner’s fault, not mine,’ he’d always say.”
Rowan chuckled.
“He sounds stubborn.”
“He was.”
The smile faded.
“When the war reached our village…”
“He picked up one of the swords he’d forged.”
“And left.”
Raimer swallowed.
“I never saw him again.”
His voice became quieter.
“My mother stayed behind to protect the children.”
“She pushed Luna and me toward the forest.”
“I remember looking back…”
“There was fire everywhere.”
“I searched for days.”
“But…”
“I couldn’t find either of them.”
The barn fell silent once again.
Only the wind answered.
“And Luna?”
Rowan asked gently.
Raimer’s expression softened.
“My sister.”
“She was impossible.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
“She’d always beat me with wooden swords.”
“Even when she cheated.”
“You let her win?”
“I wish.”
He shook his head.
“She actually was better.”
His eyes drifted toward the wooden practice sword resting against the wall.
“She always said…”
“‘One day you’ll become stronger than me.'”
“…I never believed her.”
His smile slowly disappeared.
“When we got separated…”
“I searched every refugee camp.”
“Every nearby village.”
“I even asked travelling merchants.”
“Nothing.”
“But…”
He looked toward the falling snow beyond the doorway.
“I don’t think she died.”
Rowan remained quiet.
“I can’t explain it.”
“I just…”
“…feel she’s alive.”
The captain slowly reached into his coat.
“I’ve been debating whether I should show you this.”
He unfolded a weathered piece of parchment.
Raimer’s breathing stopped.
It was an old sketch.
A young woman.
Silver hair.
Bright blue eyes.
“Luna…”
His hands trembled.
“Where did you get this?”
“Our scouts.”
“They spotted someone matching her description several months ago.”
Hope.
A dangerous feeling.
Yet impossible to stop.
“Where?”
“The western border.”
Raimer immediately stood.
“Take me there.”
“I can’t.”
“What?”
“The report is months old.”
“We don’t know where she is now.”
Raimer’s shoulders slowly lowered.
“But…”
Rowan continued,
“The people she travelled with weren’t refugees.”
“They belonged to the Revolutionary Army.”
The words echoed inside the barn.
Alive.
Or…
At least there was a chance.
For the first time in three years…
Raimer had a direction.
Before leaving, Rowan’s eyes landed on the old wooden sword.
“You train?”
Raimer rubbed the back of his neck.
“…Sort of.”
“By yourself?”
He hesitated.
“…Not exactly.”
Rowan waited.
Raimer wasn’t sure why…
But something about the captain made him want to speak honestly.
“I’ve had the same dream ever since I was little.”
“A dream?”
“Every night.”
“There’s an old man.”
“I don’t know who he is.”
“He wears ancient armour.”
“And carries a wooden sword.”
“What does he do?”
Raimer smiled.
“He makes me regret falling asleep.”
Rowan laughed.
“That strict?”
“He never lets me win.”
“He teaches me swordsmanship.”
“History.”
“Leadership.”
“Sometimes mana control.”
“I don’t really understand half of what he says.”
“But…”
“When I wake up…”
“I remember everything.”
The captain’s smile slowly disappeared.
“Show me.”
Raimer picked up the wooden sword.
Without thinking…
His feet shifted naturally.
His breathing steadied.
The blade rose into a flawless opening stance.
Smooth.
Balanced.
Disciplined.
Not the stance of a homeless orphan.
The stance of someone trained by a master.
Rowan’s eyes narrowed.
“…Interesting.”
Raimer lowered the sword.
“I told you.”
“It’s just a dream.”
Rowan wasn’t convinced.
Dreams…
Didn’t teach fundamentals like that.
The captain stood.
“I should leave.”
He placed a small leather pouch onto the hay.
Inside were several silver coins.
Raimer immediately pushed it back.
“I can’t take this.”
“It’s not charity.”
“It’s payment.”
“For what?”
Rowan smiled.
“For giving an old soldier someone interesting to talk to.”
Before Raimer could protest…
The captain had already stepped outside.
The snow quickly swallowed his footprints.
Evening arrived.
The barn suddenly felt much quieter.
Raimer stared at Luna’s sketch one last time before carefully hiding it beneath his blanket.
“I’ll find you.”
“No matter what.”
As darkness settled across the frozen fields, he decided to gather firewood before night became too cold.
The nearby forest wasn’t far.
He had walked its paths countless times.
Tonight…
Something felt different.
The forest was unusually silent.
No birds.
No wolves.
Only the crunch of snow beneath his boots.
Then—
“…There he is.”
A rough voice echoed through the trees.
Five men stepped from the shadows.
Each carried worn swords and axes.
Bandits.
Their leader grinned.
“Looks like the little thief finally wandered somewhere no guards can save him.”
Raimer slowly tightened his grip around his wooden sword.
Five against one.
He knew the odds.
The leader laughed.
“What are you planning to do with that stick?”
The bandits advanced.
Raimer took a slow breath.
Just as he shifted into the stance from his dreams—
A black blur shot between the trees.
The world flashed.
Steel sang.
One bandit’s sword shattered.
Another collapsed before he even realised he’d been struck.
The remaining three froze.
Standing between them and Raimer…
Was a young woman dressed in a dark cloak that concealed elegant black armour etched with silver patterns.
Long obsidian hair swayed behind her.
Two crimson eyes calmly met the bandits’.
In her hands rested a pair of slender elven blades.
She didn’t even glance at Raimer.
Her voice was cold enough to rival the winter itself.
“…Leave.”
The bandit leader laughed nervously.
“And if we don’t?”
The woman slowly raised one blade.
A terrifying pressure swept through the forest.
“…Then die.”
She disappeared.
Raimer’s pupils shrank.
For one heartbeat she stood before him.
The next—
She was behind the bandits.
A faint silver arc flashed through the falling snow.
Shing.
Silence.
The bandit leader blinked.
“…Wh-”
Before he could finish speaking, a thin crimson line appeared across his chest.
His body split apart.
The remaining four froze in horror.
“W-What the hell—”
Another flash.
Another slash.
One after another, the bandits collapsed, their weapons falling uselessly into the snow.
Not a single scream lasted more than a second.
The battle had ended before Raimer had even managed to draw a proper breath.
The young woman calmly flicked the blood from one of her twin blades before sliding both swords back into their black scabbards.
She finally turned toward him.
“…Are you hurt?”
Raimer stood frozen.
“N-No.”
“I…”
“…Thank you.”
The woman gave a small nod.
“Good.”
She started walking away.
“W-Wait!”
She stopped but didn’t turn around.
Raimer hurried after her.
“At least let me thank you properly.”
For several moments, she remained silent.
Then she sighed softly.
“…Very well.”
She turned to face him.
Moonlight reflected off her crimson eyes.
“My name is Nyxara Noctis.”
The name sounded unfamiliar, yet strangely noble.
Raimer scratched the back of his head.
“…I’m Raimer.”
“I know.”
He blinked.
“You do?”
“The guards shouted your name often enough.”
His cheeks reddened slightly.
“…Right.”
To his surprise…
A faint smile appeared on Nyxara’s face.
It vanished almost immediately.
“You shouldn’t wander these forests alone.”
“I came to gather firewood.”
“You nearly gathered your own grave.”
“…Fair point.”
For a brief moment…
Neither spoke.
The snow continued falling around them.
Finally, Nyxara broke the silence.
“You’re heading toward the capital.”
Raimer looked surprised.
“How did you know?”
“There’s only one road from here.”
“And you’re carrying hope.”
He frowned.
“…Hope?”
“You walk differently than someone with nowhere to go.”
Raimer looked down at his boots.
He hadn’t even noticed.
“…Maybe.”
Nyxara’s gaze drifted toward the distant lights beyond the mountains.
“If you truly seek answers…”
“You’ll eventually hear the name Revolutionary Army.”
Raimer immediately remembered Rowan’s words.
“You know them?”
“I’ve crossed paths with them.”
“Are they…”
He hesitated.
“…Really rebels?”
Nyxara looked toward the night sky.
“To some…”
“They’re traitors.”
“To others…”
“They’re the last people still fighting for justice.”
“And to me…”
She paused.
“They’re simply people trying to change a broken world.”
Raimer remained thoughtful.
“My sister…”
“I think she might be with them.”
Nyxara’s expression softened.
“If that’s true…”
“Then she’s chosen a difficult road.”
She reached into her cloak before tossing him a small silver coin engraved with the crest of a black tree beneath a crescent moon.
“If fate is kind…”
“We’ll meet again.”
Raimer caught it.
“What is this?”
“A keepsake.”
“If someone recognises that crest…”
“They’ll know you once met a member of House Noctis.”
Before he could ask another question—
She stepped backwards into the darkness between the trees.
Within seconds…
She was gone.
Only her footprints remained in the untouched snow.
Raimer looked down at the strange silver coin resting in his palm.
“House…
Noctis…”
He whispered the name quietly.
Something told him…
Tonight wasn’t simply a chance encounter.
Far beyond the forest…
A new path had quietly opened before him.
And somewhere beyond the frozen horizon…
Destiny was already waiting.
End of Chapter 2