I was awakened by the smell of warm bread being served in the main room of the house. I got up from my bed, stretching my body and yawning loudly. Feeling satisfied, I approached the wooden basin filled with water to wash my face. Cold water quickly removed my remaining tiredness from last night. The next thing in my routine was just putting on my usual working white, short, plain shirt, and grey pants before leaving my room. With gratitude, I noticed that my clothing had been cleaned while I was sleeping.

- “O-ho. Look who honored us with his presence during breakfast, darling.” My mother smiled looking at me, while standing on the opposite side of the small family table, cutting the bread into pieces.

- “You are right, I overslept an hour or two longer than usual, what’s a big deal?” I pouted hearing my mother sarcastic remark

- “You promised old Jonson to help him in his forge! He was already here asking about you!”

- “The old fart must have the memory of a damn squirrel hiding food for winter! I was quite sure that I reminded him that I would help him this afternoon at least five times! After. Noon.”

I sat in front of my parents, joining them during their meal. Nothing great. Two pieces of bread, some cheese, an apple, and cooked carrot. Sometimes I wondered how noblemen dine. I heard that the prince is being served a mountain of sweet pancakes with honey, donuts and other food every morning. Food so expensive, that we could only afford to eat them during harvest festivals and other great events.

But we... We are only simple villagers. Even meat only ends up on our plates once every few days.

I stretched my hand toward the bread, just to get it slapped away by my mother.

- “Asteruse! Where are your manners! The prayer comes first!”

- “I doubt gods will bother checking if someone like me is praying before eating food, in this village, in the middle of nowhere. Don’t they have anything better to do?” I rolled my eyes

- “They wouldn’t care about me or your mother for sure, but since we gave you this name, they might indeed check on you!” said my father, taking a piece of food and throwing it into his mouth.

- “You too!? And I was wondering why I can’t teach this lad any manners! It’s because he is mimicking you, his father!”

My old man just roared in laughter, slapping his sizable belly.

- “Sorry, my love, I am sorry, it’s just as you are saying. Anyway, let’s pray… or this devilish woman won’t let us enjoy the fruits of our labors…” he whispered the last part, but loud enough for everyone to hear it.

A single vein “popped out” on my mother’s head. First, my old man got a swat on the back of his head, a second later she grabbed a frying pan.

- “I was joking! Just joking!” My father raised his hands, as if surrendering, and even though my Ma didn’t show any signs of calming down, she put her weapon of doom aside.

- “Aster. Start the prayer.” My mother ordered with narrowed eyes.

I sighed, giving up, I bowed my head slightly, folding my hands to pray. Refreshing the words of the chant in my head.

- “Oh, the Mother of Light, The Lady of the Sun, who guided men in the times of our need,

Bless the fruits of our labor, grown under your graceful touch, and allow us to enjoy the taste of our love;

Oh, the Mother of Night, The Lady of the Moon, who allows us to rest in the bliss of your night,

The food we eat is for your honor, let it remind us of your gentle touch;

Oh, the Mother of Earth, The Lady of Elements, who gave us soil to breed the children of thy in to serve as nourishment for us, so we could sing for your honor. Bless this food so that we may once again praise your name with our labor.

Mothers of ours, Luxa’Anavera, Umbra’Ancara, Gaia’Selass. We hail thy names, so keep us safe, so may we feast again tomorrow. For Three are One and One is Three, Amen.”

- “Amen.” Said my mother, while bowing her head slightly.

- “Amen.” Said my father, barely concerned about courtesy, blatantly stuffing food in his mouth.

- “Darling… I asked you so many times… If you could sacrifice this one minute to thank the goddesses properly…”

- “The goddesses want us to worship them with our actions, not our words. We have to eat quickly so we can do our duty in helping our fellows! This is my job as a village head… and yours as well, Aster, as my only child and the person that shall be my successor..”

- “I know father.”

- “There is one more reason for you to work hard!” my mother raised her voice “… it is because of…”

- “… Of the name you gave me. Asteruse. The Legendary Sword of First Hero Rhonnak that he used to bring peace on our land and cast the demon-kin far to the east so they could never again leave their den. I know. I know. I know.”

- “Be proud of it. You can’t just name whoever you want with one of the ancient names. The king himself together with the archbishop gave us permission to bestow this name upon you!”

- “… Because you saved his life when he was traveling across our land and was trapped by the storm and a mud avalanche in the mountains. I knooow! Seriously, you are forcing me to listen to that story every two or three days!”

- “And you still don’t understand the lesson behind it! Aster! You are a child made of courage! You were born on the day, the king’s life was saved by your father! He himself blessed you and held you in his arms! You were BLESSED! This is why you always are stronger, faster and smarter than the rest of the kids! You were given power, and power is responsibility…”

- “And because of that responsibility I have to go, I promised to help Miss Jagna at the inn. And yes, later I will help old Jonson.”

I said finishing my meal, and rising from my chair.

- “And you are not using this as an opportunity to spend more time with that wench, aren't you, Aster?” my mother said in a sardonic voice.

- “And even if I was, then what? Mother! I am nineteen years old! I am a grown-up man and…”

- “Gua-Ha-Ugh-Kheh!” a weird cacophony resounded loudly. It was my father, who choked on the food still in his mouth while trying to laugh. He got what was coming for him.

- “Ha-ha, very funny, father, very funny. Now, I have to go. I love you!”

I shut the door behind me, but just a moment before that I managed to peek at my mother “rescuing” my father, telling him to breathe in and out, while patting his back.

I sighed, moving out of the shade and into the light of the day.

The warm rays of the sun fell on my face and the seemingly gentle wind made my brown, a bit too long hairs danced along with its tunes, tickling my shoulders.

It was yet another hot day of summer, and a lot of work awaited us in the fields. Most men and women were already planting or harvesting crops. The blacksmith Jonson, standing outside his shop located on the opposite side of “plaza”– if you can call that large, round piece of empty ground in the village a plaza - started to furiously wave his hands as soon as I came into his range of vision, trying his best to draw my attention.

- “Hey! Aster! You promised me to…”

- “Help you in the AFTERNOON, Mr. Jonson! After! Noon! I have to help other people as well!”

- “That better be a promise!” Blacksmith threatened me with his finger.

- “Do I ever fail you, Mr. Jonson?” I asked

Old Rupert Jonson was a short-tempered and quite vulgar person, whose attitude made most villagers avoid him for as long as it was not their only option (so usually until they needed his services). I knew that he wanted to answer me with one of his usual offenses, yet all he did was opening and closing his mouth a couple of times, clearly looking for a fitting vulgarism before he finally responded.

- “No, kid. Unlike the rest of your generation, you are a hardworking man. You can be proud of yourself. Will wait for you. Till afternoon, kid.”

These words were worth more than one could imagine. Here, in our small community, reputation was everything. And when someone like Rupert Jonson ever praised you, it was as if you were being awarded a medal of courage by the king himself.

Walking past the houses of hunter and tailor I reached the house of Miss Margret, oldest, most cheerful, and one of the smartest people in our village. Some of my greatest memories were tied with her. As everyone worked in the fields, she took care of the kids still too young to help, teaching them various things and telling them her stories. Right now, she was sitting on the bench in front of her house, surrounded by a bunch of kids.

- “Greetings, good witch!” I bowed my head.

- “Greetings, young Aster, greetings!” Margret seemed happy to see me “… kids, greet your next chief!”

- “Goood-mooorning miiisteeer Aaasteeer!” the small crowd responded in unison before returning to their lectures.

Such a peaceful day. Such a peaceful village.

I turned my steps toward the biggest building in the village – the inn (even bigger than our local church). Lady Jagna (which wasn’t her real name) and her daughter – my future wife Elize, were the owners. That was the most profitable business in our village, just so you know!

For now, the inn was closed as they were getting ready for another night – when the people would be returning from the fields after a long day of working. The ladies were probably cleaning the rooms and the main hall after a long night of partying. They had asked me for help because they needed “a strong man to help ladies carry barrels”.

Just when I was about to knock at the door, I heard a commotion from inside of the room – did someone forget to close the window?

- “You should have left the village, you stupid goat! You are educated and beautiful, you could have a better life! There is noble blood in your veins!”

- “There is no nobility in either of us, mother. You lost your status when you and father were plotting against the local lord. You should be grateful that you were not executed and were merely banished.”

- “We, once proud house of Stelek! Working alongside peasants!”

- “This PEASANT one day will be my husband! But, if that would lift your mood, here, in this village, he is the equivalent of a prince, isn’t he?” she was trying her best to turn this whole situation into a joke.

- “Yes, yes. Whatever. At least he is dependable… or predictable. Just call him a strong man and he will flex his muscles doing as he is told…”

I allowed myself to walk into the inn without knocking.

- “Actually, I am running around the village flexing my muscles because that’s the right thing to do, not because you asked me to do so. Later I will be helping our blacksmith and yet after that, I will be going to help with the harvest. We are a small community, and as such, we need to help one another. And it would make me really happy if next time you would simply ask for help instead of hiding behind fake compliments. It’s a normal thing to depend on one another, just as we are depending on you each evening.”

- “How long were you standing there?” the woman that I am going to marry panicked “...I am so sorry you had to hear all of that, Aster…” Elize’s face darkened “…my mother just…”

- “I just got here, and she is a wonderful mother wanting the best future for her daughter, there is no need to be sorry about it… And even though I am lacking noble blood, proper education and etiquette, I want to assure you that I will treat your daughter with the best of my abilities! I might not have much, but whatever is mine, shall also be hers.”

Liz’ smiled gently before she approached and hugged me, wordlessly thanking me for kind words. She didn’t have to.

We knew one another since we were little, pretty quickly becoming inseparable, and a few years ago, our desire for each other's presence grew even stronger. And about a year ago we promised that we will marry one another, we just had to wait till we reached adulthood.

Gently I kissed her forehead, eventually breaking the hug, even though I wanted to spend as much time as possible with her I came here to work.

- “So, what am I supposed to do?” I asked looking toward the inn owner.

- “Please, move the tables around so we could clean the floor, then bring empty barrels to the cellar and bring full behind the counter, under the wall, so they could remain cool.”Jagna said in a calm tone, not really concerned even after hearing this whole conversation.

She never liked me but was honest enough to never hide it. What she said “behind my back” was nothing I didn’t hear before. Still, she kept all her remarks to herself, her daughter, and me. She never tried dirtying my name in public (though she could, in the end, I am no saint and got myself drunk quite a few times, doing some stupid things. No, she covered me each and every time).

- “Right away, my lady!” she snorted hearing my words, though I knew that deep down she was pleased. It took me some time to change my manners - until very recently I kept on using m’lady or milady form, only later I was informed that it’s not the proper way, quite peasant-ish, almost vulgar.

Doing as I was told, I raised the large table, holding it in such a way that its top leaned on my chest, letting the ladies clean the part underneath.

- “By the way, Aster…” ‘Liz started as she was mopping the floor “… the other day, when the traveling merchant visited us I got myself that book…”

Here she starts again. ‘Liz was obsessed with books and was trying to make me read them all the time as well. I was one few people in the village that could read, write, and count. I read lots of books but…

...At the same time, I was being pragmatic. We were not going to leave this village, maaaaybe once every few months for a couple of days to sell our crops in the nearest city, but that’s it. Reading was time-consuming. Time, which could be used to help around the village. Time was valuable recourse and you never could have too much of it. It was needed to help the blacksmith, help the carpenter, fix the fence, help with the animals...

If that was a book containing practical techniques that could be used to help around, I would gladly read it!... though, the smart people from cities (which write books) prefer writing about love, war, tactic, finances or schooling rather than wasting paper for 101 tips on how to take better care of your pigs, which was understandable.

- “ … written by Richard Sobstein…” Great, this guy again, a philosopher that Liz was obsessed with “… he wrote a really interesting article about a concept of free will, it really makes you reevaluate your life and put it into perspective! He also has a rather brave theory about goddesses, you know, about their all-good nature. Church even started wondering if it wasn't heresy! He called it a paradox of the divine nature…”

The corner of my mouth flinched.

- “Love, be careful with those theories. You know that most of the people in our village are rather obsessed with religion, for example, my mother.”

- “It’s just a hypothetical consideration of divine nature!”

- “These hypothetical considerations may practically send you on the pyre.”

Jagna snorted as Liz just rolled her eyes.

- “You are talking just like my mother!”

- “That’s actually a compliment. In the end she is the smartest person in the village.”

- “Such buttered words will bring you nowhere with me, child!” she yelled from the other side of the room.

- “It is still worth trying! Your opinion about me can’t get any lower, on the other hand I have everything to gain!”

Jagna loved logic, I really hoped that I could score a few additional “affection points” with her.

- “If I really was thinking so low about you, I wouldn’t let you meet my daughter at all!” Jagna said, was she trying to jab at me with her uncanny sense of humor?

The rest of my work at the inn passed peacefully, Liz’ kept on trying to drag me into conversation regarding paradoxes and such, or at least to force a book into my hands. I fought back bravely, but eventually lost and allowed myself to be handed a book of my choosing while promising I would read it and later discuss it – I choose the thinnest one, obviously.

Liz was rather happy from my pick though, I was wondering why…

- “Nathan Lathel? Types and classification of sub-consciousness? It’s a really difficult one, I love that you choose it!”

Ffffff….

- “I can’t wait to discuss it with you!”

…uck!

- “I am so proud of you babe!”

What are men doing in the name of love… My father, for example, bears with my mother praising everything everywhere. Old Jonson the blacksmith, when his wife was still alive, would listen to everything she said (she was half his size, and he was afraid to sneeze at her in order to not blow her away). Ah, poor lady Jonson. Two years passed since her sickness took her, may soil remain light on her.

I said my farewells to the innkeepers and rushed to the blacksmith.

- “What are you doing, Eric! You dumb son of a goat!” Mr. Jonson was apparently teaching his student his art “… Ah, Aster! Finally! Come here and show him how it is done!”

Eric, a strong, polite but indeed somewhat slow-minded man two years younger than me was trying to forge a horseshoe, though the shape resembled some twisted hunter’s trap.

- “You almost did it, Eric! You improved a lot!” I yelled from the doorstep “… Look, you skipped a phase, you waited too long and metal cooled down, you need to shape it when it's still hot! Here, I will show you once again.”

- “T-t-thank you Aster.” He was a shy and quiet kid

- “Don’t you worry! We all start somewhere! You will see, a year from now you will be lecturing Mr. Jonson how to make horseshoes!”

- “Even in a thousand years he wouldn’t make it!”

- “Sir, you are far too hard on him!”

- “These soft cheeks won’t understand a single word that I am telling him unless I would yell! It’s like he's too stupid to even hear properly!”

- “Sir! One more word! I dare you!”

Jonson, who was the tallest man in the village (there was even a rumor his father was an orc-blood) only cursed one more time.

- “Whatever. Erick. Repeat the process, make a new one. Keep on making em’ till you craft something that wouldn’t resemble a bear-trap! And you… come with me, there is something I need to discuss with you.”

And much to my surprise, he opened a door located on the floor leading to his cellar. As kids we once tried to sneak in there. My ass hurts just reminding the memory of the slapping that he gave us. Butt slapping. From a blacksmith. Possibly having an orc-blood running in his veins. From the man that could bend iron bars with his bare hands in his youth.

We stepped inside into the dark cellar illuminated only with a few candles, and as soon as my eyes adapted to the dim light, I gasped surprised.

Swords. Axes. Spear and arrowheads. Armors. Everything was covered in them – walls, racks, tables. They all were crude looking, savage even, but their sharpness was obvious. If you would throw a feather over it letting it land on the blade, it would be split in half

- “Before I became a blacksmith in this village, I was living in an orcish tribe. My father was most likely one of the many warriors, my mother - an unlucky villager who must have been kidnapped, never met her. She probably died shortly after giving birth to me. Unfortunately for me, I was more of a human than an orc, so I couldn’t become a warrior. So, they taught me forging blades… but, my blades were pathetic. So, they gave me a sword, a few packs of food, and chased me out of the village. They told me – we will not feed you, but neither kill you, go, try your luck, if you survive in the wild, you will live, but never come to our tribe again. I had been walking for many weeks, surviving mostly thanks to luck before I reached a city. Of course, orc-blood couldn’t stay in for too long, so I resumed my journey, till I eventually reached this village. Your father took me in, asked no question, gave me an old hut and said that I am free to keep it. I thought he would ask me for something in return, but he didn’t. Not after a week. Not after two nor three. Eventually, I picked a hammer and started repaying my debt on my own… But… the teachings of orcs were never forgotten. I kept on practicing with every spare iron I was given… and now, I am quite confident I am able to make blades that even orcish warlords would not be ashamed to use.”

In the meantime, he sat on the chair and took a big gulp from his cup.

- “W-why are you telling me that?”

- “Because I am dying. Maybe not today. Maybe not in a month or a year. But I am growing weaker. Few days ago, for the first time a hammer slipped off my hand. My eyesight is getting worse. But, my knowledge can’t be wasted. Eric is… a good kid. I would teach him this eventually, but I might not have time. Aster. You are a gifted kid. Your name has power. You always were stronger, faster, and smarter than the rest of the kids in the village, you are even the tallest in your generation. If you were born in a noble family, you could truly become someone outstanding… Not once nor twice I tried convincing your father to let you go into the city…”

- “My place is here, Mr. Jonson. With you. Every member of our village is a part of my family. I could never leave you!”

- “Your father said the same thing. That he wouldn’t even dare send you away knowing how you might feel. But, kid. Would you do this dying man a favor? Would you accept my knowledge? My burden? Later, you can teach this to Eric, if I wouldn’t make it.”

- “V-very we... No. I will be honored to study under your guidance!” I bowed my head in gratitude.

- “Rise up, kid, and hold this!”

The Huge man threw the sword in my direction, picking another one in the meantime.

- “Swords are not horseshoes or nails. You can’t just make them without knowing the subtle differences in their shapes. You need to feel the swords. It's an extension of your arm, body, mind, and soul. I will make sure to carve the importance of their existence into your very muscles. En garde! Kid!”

And then, he started training me, in rather brutal ways known only to orcs.

From afternoon to late in the evening I was being tormented by an old blacksmith, despite what he said and judging by his strength he was faaar from dying, he still could wrestle with a bull if he wanted to.

I quickly washed my body at the nearest well before returning to house.

- “Surpriseee!” Inside of our rather small hut, quite a crowd gathered. My parents, Liz’, old Margaret, priest Henry, carpenter Stephen and few other.

- “What is this all about?” I asked, not knowing the source of their excitement.

- “See? I told you honey! He forgot about his own birthday!” my father laughed loudly.

- “Congratulations, my beloved child, you are officially a man! Mature enough to serve our community! Of course, to become a village chief you will have to wait for a little…” my mother started.

- “.. till your old man would pop his clogs…” my father once again joked.

- “May I wait as long as possible…” I allowed myself to add.

- “… to participate in gatherings of elders and to get married!”

- “We have prepared quite a feast! You are becoming an adult only once in a lifetime!”

- “But, let’s go to the fun part! Gifts! As a father I will allow myself to start!” In an extremely good mood he handed me a small box.

I opened it right away. Inside of it, there was a small scroll, slightly yellowed because of the time.

- “We have been keeping it since the day of your birth.”

- “What is it?”

- “A document. Signed by the king himself. It’s the official proof of your name. It would allow you to get a somewhat special treatment in most temples of the divine trinity.”

- “That’s…” most of the temples were open only during masses. Being allowed to let in whatever’s the time and circumstances what a great honor and sign of prestige.

- “Yes. If you would even decide to become a pilgrim, that would help you quite a lot.”

- “Thank you father, mother.”

- “Allow this old hag to go next.” The old witch smiled approaching me

- “You keep calling yourself old, madame, while as I can see you are blooming each day even more.”

- “Oh, you talker you!...” she laughed slightly before becoming serious “… I taught you most things I could. Except one. When you were born, we checked that you have low affinity with mana. That would be my last gift – if you wanted to teach yourself the arcane arts, I could give you the basics. It could greatly help you regardless of the path in your life that you would choose. From actual spells, to empowering your body. You could run faster than ever, lift more than ever… The doors to my hut will forever remain open to you, child.”

- “I will make sure to visit every day!” I once again lowered my head

- “Aster, let’s say it, you never were a devoted believer, always sneaking out of my classes and masses…” I smiled awkwardly “… but, your heart is pure, you are always first to help, even though your lips won’t sign the prayers, your soul does. That’s the best kind of believer that holy trinity may desire. It’s not much, but please, take this. It’s the golden ring of our church. May the Sun, Moon and Soil always guide you.”

Golden ring, with sun and moon being separated by the line being a symbol of the earth, was handed to me. Golden ring! Was someone like me even worthy to carry it!? It’s…

- “Son. Your manners….” My mother noticed my lack of response

- “I … am sorry, and thank you… I am not sure I am worthy to carr…”

- “This is just a ring. A piece of metal shaped in such a way to fit on your finger. Forget about the material is made off, its true value are the emotions you put into it. Let it be the symbol of your good heart, and let it always remind you to follow the path of compassion.”

- “F-father… I… Thank you a lot, I want to assure you I would always follow the path of justice, no matter how hard it would be!”

- “Good. These are the words of a real man!” A strong pat on the shoulder and approving gazes of gathered lift my spirit.

I was given lots of bits and pieces, all generous gifts, but not really worth mentioning… till Liz approached me.

- “Aster. Congratulations for coming to age that allows you to get married!... You would have to wait a few months for me though…” Liz was born in winter

- “Of course that I will…”

- “Will you? How can I be sure you won’t chase after some skirt in the meantime?” she asked playfully

- “You know me too well, to think that you would have to ask such a question is..." I shook my head from side to side

- “Maaay~beee… but what if I wanted some kind of warranty in this specific mater?”

- “What do you mean?”

She hesitated while putting one of her hands around her neck, taking off the pendant she was always carrying with her.

- “As you know, my mother and I were once a nobility. We were stripped off the rank, wealth and then banished from the capital… they allowed us to take only one thing. This…”

She showed me a beautiful piece of art with the coat of arms of some noble family

- “It is a tradition that a bride offers a dowry for off the house… it’s everything I have… but I am willing to give it to you… IF!...” she made a long pause “… if you are willing to promise on the stone, in front of gods, that once I come to the age, we shall be together.”

Everyone in the house became quiet.

Oath of the sacred stones.

- “T-that’s…” I was speechless. Even marriages could be broken. Every promise could be twisted. But not these.

- “That’s what I was arguing with my mother this whole time!” She laughed loudly, though she was clearly getting nervous. Her stretched hands, still holding the pendant were slightly shaking.

I laid my hand or hers, shutting her fingers over the pendant.

- “Keep the pendant…” I said. Her eyes almost popped out “… Till the ceremony would be over. I gladly accept your generous offer!”

- “YOU FUCKING MORON! IDIOT!...” she started slamming my chest with her tiny fists “…WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT LIKE THIS! ARE YOU MAD?!”

The mood in the room became lighter in a blink of an eye. Everyone cheered and rejoiced as together with Liz we were embracing one another. The night was young and the party just started. Party, with my soon-to-be wife.