Reforging Memories

Glyffe? An orphan?

That meant… no grandparents. No family line on his side - at least not by blood. Somehow, that realization made the boiling hot room feel much colder.

I stared at my now unfamiliar father. Just how difficult had his childhood really been? Raised without a family, carrying the name of an orphanage because he never knew his own. Even his first name.. was that chosen for him too?

So Frostworth wasn't his surname. It was Silvia's.

That explains it. The Frostworth absorption technique—she passed it to me, not him. She's the one from the main family. Not Glyffe. Silvia was the noble. Glyffe was...

"What... an orphan?" The words stumbled out before I could stop them.

Glyffe gave a sheepish smile. The kind that said, guess the cat's out of the bag. Silvia, by contrast, was unreadable. Calm. She must've already known.

The pieces clicked. But more questions kept forming.

If Glyffe was truly orphaned... what exactly was his relationship with Stox? Were they bound by blood, or something else?

"Yes," Stox said, arms folding as he leaned against the counter. "I suppose you might not know what that really means. Some children come into this world alone. No mom. No dad. Just a cradle in a crowded room and a name someone else picked for them."

I tried to organise my thoughts, still thinking about what Stox had said earlier.

"The Far East? But isn't that..." I asked slowly. I was close to something. Some truth on the edge of memory. "Isn't that...?"

"Dwarven territory," Stox finished, nodding. "You're right. Your father was a lone human boy raised in the land of dwarves."

A heavy silence followed. Not sad, exactly. Just... full.

Stox's voice had changed. I could hear the years in it now. This wasn't just a little story to him. It was something that had lived inside him for a long time.

Dwarven territory. I didn't know much about it, only what I'd read in textbooks. The pinnacle of craft and invention. Advanced in every way, except maybe socially.

The population was ninety-six percent dwarves. Humans and elves made up the remainder, but neither were particularly welcome. Especially not elves. Dwarves stuck to their own.

Exclusory.

And in the middle of that, one lone human boy.

Being an orphan was hard enough. Being an outsider among an entirely different race? That was another kind of isolation altogether.

Glyffe… you really had it rough.

I thought back to my past life. I didn't have parents either. But I had my aunt and uncle. Two people who gave up their dreams to raise me. I wasn't alone, not really.

But Glyffe? He didn't have that.

And yet, here he was. My father. Kind, strong, warm and funny - despite everything.

To come out of that kind of childhood and become the man I know? That's strength I can't even begin to understand.

Stox hadn't even finished his story, but already I could see the outline of a past that Glyffe never talked about. He wouldn't have told me any of this until I was older. Till he thought I was ready and mature enough to handle it.

But I wanted to hear it now.

And there was still one more thread pulling at me. Stox's earlier words.

"You only know half the story."

I sat straighter.

Whatever Stox had to say, I wasn't going to miss a word.

"Glyffe was one of those orphans. And a handful, too. Mischief magnet. Broke more things than he used and mouthed off to every dwarf who tried to raise him."

I blinked, trying to picture it. My father, Glyffe Frostworth, as a rebellious child among dwarves.

"He eventually ran away from Proxia Orphanage," Stox continued, his voice steady. "Being the only human in a dwarven orphanage? He never quite fit in. Even among orphans, he stood out. And only for the wrong reasons."

He paused for a beat.

"Homeless, hungry and desperate. He turned to stealing. Not just food but swords, too. From my own blacksmith shop."

Stox gave Glyffe a side glance, shaking his head.

"The worst part?" He exhaled through his nose. "He thought I didn't notice."

Glyffe rubbed his chin, opting to stay quiet. It looked like he knew better than to interrupt the story.

"He'd swipe a blade from me, take food from nearby stalls, then head for the edge of the Great Evergreen Forest to hunt monsters. He'd come back and sell what he could of their remains."

My eyes lit up. He hunted monsters? That's so cool! I looked at him with fresh admiration but Glyffe just shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. Not proud of it, clearly. Silvia giggled softly, amused by the contrast between my excitement and his shame.

"Mind you, he was just a kid. Only managed to take down slimes and the odd goblin. Easy prey. Everyone had more goblin hides than they knew what to do with." Glyffe nodded. He knew this all too well.

"But since we saw how hard he was working, the orphanage staff and I bought his drops for triple the going rate."

"You what!?" Glyffe suddenly burst out, voice sharp with disbelief. The outburst startled all of us. He looked genuinely floored.

Stox smirked. "You didn't really think slime cores were worth that much, did you?"

He didn't wait for a response.

"Third time he came to steal a sword, I caught him red-handed. Told him I wouldn't let it slide anymore. Gave him a choice. Work under me—honest pay, meals, a roof, and he could keep the swords. Or refuse, and I'd send him back to Proxia."

He let that hang in the air a moment.

"I wasn't going to keep overpaying for slime cores and goblin teeth to keep him alive. I'd go broke."

Glyffe stayed quiet, listening.

"After a day to think it over, he accepted. But only if I let him take days off to hunt. I agreed, on the condition he didn't go too deep into the Great Forest."

I leaned in, stunned. So Stox hadn't just helped him. He'd practically saved him. And Glyffe hadn't even known the half of it.

Stox folded his arms, gaze drifting slightly. "That kid had caused enough trouble stealing from half the district. I had to go around cleaning up after him."

"Huh?" Glyffe blurted unconsciously.

"I paid every stall and staff member he stole from. I promised to cover the damages with interest if he slipped up. Over time, they stopped bothering to chase after him. They knew I'd handle it. In fact, some shop owners started looking forward to their extra compensation."

He gave Glyffe a wry look. "When he started working for me, he already had a reputation. None of the shopkeepers would sell to him. I had to convince them he'd turned a new leaf."

He paused. His voice softened.

"But I knew from the beginning. He was a good kid. Just… cornered."

Glyffe stood motionless, jaw tight. He wasn't saying anything, but his silence spoke a thousand words. His eyes stayed low, unreadable.

"To settle things properly," Stox said, gentler now, "I filed the paperwork. Adopted him. Let the orphanage know he was in good hands."

At that, Glyffe froze completely.

"For eight years," Stox went on, "we worked and lived together. I taught him the forge, what little I knew of swordsmanship… and how to live like a man, not a stray."

He looked over at Glyffe. He wasn't accusing, just being honest. "He thought I needed a worker. But I never did. I just didn't want to watch a kid waste away in the streets."

Eight years. Stox had taken him in, raised him, shaped him. All without asking for a word of thanks. Glyffe's debt to Stox was one that he could never repay even if he spent the rest of his life trying.

I stared at the old man with newfound respect. Everything he'd said about Glyffe not knowing the full story… it was true in ways none of us expected.

Sometimes, a single kind person in the right place can change everything.

If not for Grandpa Stox, Glyffe might've never made it out of the dwarven slums. I probably—no, definitely wouldn't be here.

I glanced over at my father. He still hadn't moved. His eyes shimmered slightly, moisture collecting at the corners.

A heavy silence settled over us.

But it wasn't an awkward one.

It was the kind that filled the space where when? words weren't enough.

"Thank you, Grandpa!"

"You did hear what I said, right, kid? I'm not your Gran—

"No. You are." I cut him off. "If you aren't good enough to be Dad's father… no one is."

Stox blinked. For a moment, he looked like the words knocked the wind out of him. Then he gave a small, crooked smile. "Heh. You really are his son. That stubbornness… he had it too."

He paused. Voice quieter now.

"…Thank you, kid."

Behind me, footsteps. Glyffe walked past without a word. His hand briefly brushed mine. It was cold and trembling. I turned, catching a glimpse of his cheek. A single streak traced down it, glinting.

Stox's eyes shimmered, but he held back. Instead, he looked at Silvia. And without a word, she understood.

An arm slipped around my shoulder and nudged me gently toward the door.

"Aww, come on, Silvia," I whined. "It was just getting to the good bit!"

She chuckled. "The good bit? When did you become so nosy?"

I grinned.

"Listen, Reno," she said, her voice shifting to her motherly wisdom mode, "Men can be weird about crying. Sometimes they need a space where no one's watching. Especially kids."

I nodded, slowly. She wasn't wrong. When I was older, back in my old life, I hated crying in front of people. Some things carry over between worlds.

Still, I got it. Glyffe and Stox deserved their own moment, without us hovering around.

As we stepped out, I glanced back.

They were hugging.

I squinted and just barely caught Glyffe's whisper: "Father, I'm home."

Stox's reply came softer, but sure: "Welcome back."

My chest swelled with something unspoken. It was their moment. A real one.

Outside, a soft breeze greeted us, carrying the faint chime of Melodia glass beneath our feet. The central plaza lay ahead, sun-bathed and serene. I let my eyes drift to the usual focal point: the fountain.

Except this time, I noticed something different. Petal-like carvings fanned out from the fountain's base, etched into the stone floor like a blooming flower. From above, I bet the whole thing looked stunning.

"So…" I started, stretching the silence, "How long do we have to wait for their reunion to end?"

"As long as it takes." Silvia's tone was calm, but firm. Like she meant every word.

Glyffe really did luck out with her.

I shuffled a little, my hands shaking in my pockets. "Hey, is it just me, or are there barely any young people in Butter Town?"

Silvia hummed thoughtfully. "It's not just you. Most folks here are older. There aren't many jobs or adventure guilds nearby, so when kids grow up, they leave."

"Ohh. So it's a kind of retirement town?"

"Exactly. People settle here, not start here."

"But still, never mind kids..." I frowned, "Even babies are rare. I've only seen, like, one."

"That's because we're in the wrong part of town," she explained. "Most kids play in the inner or outer districts. It's louder, messier, more fun."

Fair enough. Kids do tend to flock to the loud, chaotic parts of town when they play. We didn't really explore the outer or inner districts, though. After I got 'lost', none of us were exactly eager to explore.

"Central's more peaceful. Less… chaos tag."

"Chaos tag?"

"You don't wanna know."

I chuckled.

"Oh, and right now," she added, "kids around your age should be at pre-scout lessons."

"Pre-scouts?" I tilted my head. "What's that?"

"Pre-scouts is like a training sch—

"Uwaaaaaah!"

"Bwaaaaaah!"

We froze.

The wailing was coming from the blacksmith shop.

Our eyes met.

"Pfft."

We both started snickering uncontrollably.

"So much for privacy," I whispered.

"I told you men don't like to be seen crying," Silvia smirked. "I didn't say anything about being heard."

We laughed until our stomachs hurt, and then, just like that, the crying inside faded.

"When we go back in," Silvia said, wiping her eyes, "Just pretend you didn't hear a thing. Their pride couldn't take it otherwise."

"Sure thing, Mama."

Just then, the door creaked open.

Glyffe stepped out, throat cleared, face composed.

"Ahem. You both can come back in now." Glyffe held the door open. What a gentleman.

Both Stox and Glyffe had red eyes. I noticed, but I didn't say anything. Some things are better left untouched.

The tension from earlier was gone. It felt like they'd finally said what needed to be said. The words that had been stuck in their throats for years.

I was happy for them. For both Glyffe and Stox. You could tell they'd always cared, even if they'd forgotten how to show it. I wondered what they'd talked about.

"I've been meaning to ask, Grandpa... are you a dwarf?" I couldn't hold the question back any longer.

Stox paused. "You're a sharp one, huh? Wondering why someone my size was in dwarven territory? Even after I said Glyffe was the only human in town?"

He'd nailed it. I'd been wondering that for a while—why a guy who looked nothing like a dwarf was living in dwarf country. I thought dwarves were all short. Not eight feet tall.

"I'm a dwarf," he said. "But a mutant."

Simple words. Heavy meaning.

"An irregular," he added. "They pop up now and then. Elves with short ears. Thin dwarves. Humans with extra limbs."

"Oh… I didn't know."

He must've had it rough too. No wonder he looked out for Glyffe. He probably saw himself in him. Tall and different - an easy target for bullies.

Bullies never cared about reason or fairness. Just being different was enough.

I didn't realise irregulars were commonplace. Stox could handle it. He was grown. But if I'd asked someone younger, someone still figuring themselves out... my question might've hurt them. I'd have to be more considerate next time before asking that kind of question.

"So, what brings you two here? Looking to buy something?" He shifted smoothly into shopkeeper mode.

Silvia picked up on his change and took the cue. "Yes, we're looking for a wooden training sword for Reno. Actually, if we could all get custom ones, that'd be ideal."

Silvia was our shopping pro. Leaving things to her never failed.

"Oho, that'll work. I taught Glyffe how to carve swords years ago. Still remember how, son?" Stox said, smirking.

Son? Me and Silvia exchanged glances.

Glyffe blinked. He clearly hadn't expected the job to fall on him. "Uh, well, it's been a while, so..."

"I'm messing with you. This one's on the house," Stox chuckled.

"But you and your son better swing by sometime. We need a proper family forging session. I'll teach the little one and you can brush up on what I taught you. Deal?"

"Yes. Understood… father." That last word hit like a bell. Both Silvia and I flinched, exchanging glances again.

For the first time, Stox's face cracked into a wide, genuine smile.

Me and Silvia couldn't help but smile too, Stox's smile was a rare contagious one.

"I'll use Moonbirch for these."

""Moonbirch!?"" Silvia and Glyffe exclaimed at the same time.

"Problem?" Stox asked, eyebrow raised.

""No, no—of course not."" They both backpedalled immediately.

What's Moonbirch?" I asked, curiosity winning out.

"It's a rare type of wood. Grows only in the High North. Elven Lands." Silvia explained.

"Whoa… that sounds pricey."

"Hah, it is," Grandpa Stox said with a grin.

"What's special about it, Grandpa?" I knew asking a blacksmith about material properties was bound to make their day.

"Curious, huh? Good. That's the mark of a bright kid. Moonbirch is silvery, glows in moonlight, and grows in soil only elves can cultivate. It's lightweight too. Fancy stuff. The nobles love it."

"Ohh, so that makes it good for training. And if it glows, we could even train at night!"

Hearing the 'training at night' part, Silvia's eyebrow raised but she opted not to say anything. Well, I am quite young to be training outside that late.

"Exactly. You catch on quick. But that's not all. The main thing about Moonbirch is that it dulls on impact. Takes the sting out of a clash. It's perfect for sparring."

"So wouldn't that make it good for real swords too?"

"Not quite. It doesn't hold an edge. And dulling impact doesn't help much when the blade breaks."

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense."

"How long will it take you to make them?" Silvia asked.

"A couple hours."

"How much should we pay?"

"It's free."

"I insist."

"Two million Teaves."

"""..."""

"You just had to insist, mama" I muttered. I hoped she hadn't heard me. I looked up, only to see her smiling right at me.

She heard me.

"Ahaha! Just messing" Stox roared, his voice shaking the foundation of the store again.

Thank goodness. Something told me we didn't have two million Teaves lying around.

"Then, ahem! We'll take you up on that free offer." Silvia smiled, completely unfazed. "Is it alright if we just come back later today to pick them up?"

"Yep. That'll work."

"Alright then, we'll head off for now. We've still got a few more places to visit."

"No problem. Go on, I've got work to do. "He turned and made his way toward the forge.

From behind, he looked… smaller somehow. I decided, right then, that I'd visit whenever I could. I think that's what he'd appreciate the most right now.

"Goodbye, and thank you, Grandpa!" I shouted.

"Thank you, Dad!"

"Take care, Uncle!"

He didn't answer, but his walk was lighter. I could tell he was smiling.

The three of us stepped back into the plaza, each of us taking away something different from the visit.

"Any more surprise relatives hiding in random shops?" I joked. Was this a common thing parents on Earth did too? Taking your kid on errands only to meet unexpected family?

Glyffe chuckled, wryly. "Not unless I'm forgetting one."

"Why didn't you just tell me the truth about Stox?" I asked. "You made it sound like he just helped you once—he did way more than that!"

"Honestly? I didn't realize just how much he helped me until today. My early years... they're kind of a blur. Just anger and stubbornness at everything. Back then, I couldn't recognize kindness, even when it was right in front of me. I thought I was alone. That I'd just been dealt the worst hand possible."

He paused, his voice softer now. "But I was wrong. I was never alone. Stox, the orphanage staff... they were always there. I just couldn't see it."

Glyffe looked… at peace. Like he'd finally made up with his past.

Silvia smiled. It was one of those soft, warm smiles that made you feel like everything was going to be alright. I think we were both thinking the same thing. Right now, Glyffe looked... kind of cool.

"I didn't want you to learn about my past this early, but... maybe it's for the best. You should know what not to become. And that even when people mess up, they can still try to be better."

"See? He's smarter than you give him credit for," Silvia said, nudging Glyffe.

"You got that right," Glyffe grinned.

We all laughed together.

"So," I looked up at Silvia. "Where to next?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten the whole reason we came out here?"

"Ohhh—right! The bookstore!" I snapped my fingers.

The entire reason we'd set out in the first place was to replace the book I accidentally set on fire: The Heroic Tales of The Paladin Hero. By now, all three of us could probably recite it line for line, but it was still an essential buy.

Now that I think about it... If Glyffe grew up among dwarves, when would he have read a book about a human hero?

"Glyffe."

"Yes? What is it, Reno?"

"When did you first read The Heroic Tales of The Paladin Hero? I wouldn't expect a dwarven orphanage to keep stories about human heroes, especially since dwarves are rumoured to look down on other races."

Glyffe paused, then smiled again.

"Stox read it to me."

Oh. So it was like that.

"When I was younger - around your age - I'd always complain to Stox. Why are dwarves so great and humans so terrible? Why couldn't I have been born a dwarf? Why couldn't I have parents like the others?"

I didn't interrupt. It wasn't my place to.

"One day, after hearing me complain enough times, Stox gave me that book. He read it out loud and said, 'Look, humans can be amazing too. I wish I'd been born a human as well.'" Glyffe smiled wistfully, his eyes distant.

Grandpa Stox really was something else.

"The Paladin Hero became my idol. My motivation for everything. I thought, if humans could become great heroes, then I'd be the kind of human who could surpass even that. Then the dwarves would have to respect me." He sighed, a little embarrassed by the memory. "Naïve, huh?"

Glyffe didn't realize it then, but his true Paladin Hero wasn't in the book. He was in the blacksmith's forge right beside him.

"Ridiculous, isn't it? A kid who thought he was strong enough to survive on his own, getting his strength from bedtime stories." Glyffe shook his head.

I didn't think it was ridiculous at all. He did what he had to in order to survive. There was is no shame in that. He'd learned, adapted, and grown - you couldn't have hoped for a better outcome.

"Oh, come on, Glyffe. You can't be blamed for that. Don't be so hard on yourself. You were just a kid." Silvia, ever the voice of reason, chimed in. I completely agreed with her. "You were strong even back then. It doesn't matter where your motivation came from. What matters is that you didn't give up. And that's the strongest thing anyone can do."

Glyffe looked surprised. Then he smiled. "I really am the lucky one out of the two of us."

"But of course you are. That much is obvious, no?"

Eh?

I looked up at Silvia. "But earlier you said—

"I was just being nice, of course."

""Ah."" We both gasped

She laughed, her voice melodic enough to calm a storm. Soon, we were all laughing.

"I'm just kidding. When it comes to families like ours, everyone's lucky." She smiled, sunlight weaving gold through her hair like the gentlest embroidery.

Glyffe's expression softened into pure bliss. His teeth were showing in a wide grin, head tilted slightly, eyes squinting from how hard he was smiling.

If I could see my expression right now, it'd probably look just like his.

I paused, trying to trap this feeling forever. It was a moment I never wanted to forget. Ever.

"Our destination is just past the fountain." Silvia said, waking me up from my trance.

It was my first time this close to the fountain. From here, it looked majestic. White marble rims wrapped in lush green vines, with clear water flowing up and down in endless streams. It was... tempting.

"Hey mama, can I jump in?" I blurted.

"Pardon?" Silvia blinked.

"Hahahahaha! You're a brave one, Reno!" Glyffe laughed loudly.

"Ah I can't?" I frowned.

"Not without me. Hahahaha!" He laughed even louder.

"Glyffe!" Silvia scolded.

"Sorry sorry." He spoke apologetically, but, as soon as Silvia turned around, he winked at me. Yep, that's definitely still Glyffe.

"Of course not, Reno. If you dirty the fountain, the authorities will fine us or make us clean it. It doesn't stay this pristine by chance." She explained.

"Fine." I nodded in resignation.

I understood what she was getting at. Keeping the streets clean as a community is what allowed Butter Town to always look fresh. I'd have to respect that and do my part too.

However... I did want to swim in the fountain at least once. Okay, maybe twice. I secretly added it to the 'Things I had to do in another world' list. I just had to make sure I didn't get caught.

"And I saw Reno's reaction just now, Glyffe." She turned to face him. "You better not have been making faces just now." She spoke slowly, but that was when Silvia was maddest and Glyffe knew that, probably better than I did.

I guess my poker face wasn't as good as I thought.

"Of course not." Glyffe said quickly. Silvia didn't reply - she just simply gave him a long, hard stare.

It was a good thing Glyffe's poker face was better than mine.

"Well, fine then." She let it go. I could just about see Glyffe's chest rise then fall. He'd let out a small breath of relief. Consider yourself lucky this time, Glyffe.

"We're here."

Those two words brought my train of thoughts to a screeching halt.

A tall, nondescript storefront stood before us. No burning handles or Melodia grass. No books by the window. Just a door and a plain wooden plaque overhead that read: Clevio's Bookstore.

Clevio. I felt like I'd heard that name before... but just where? I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

"Anything I should know about the owner?" I asked. "Like, are they Silvia's long-lost aunt or something? My cousin, maybe?"

"Not every store owner is your relative, Reno." Glyffe commented.

"Okay. Just checking."

"But..."

"But?" Don't tell me...

"But there is something you should know about the store owner. A few things actually."

I thought he was going to say, 'But this one happens to be your relative too'.

"Like what for example?"

"They're a recluse who's always alone. Someone who prefers not to interact with anyone. Anyone." It was Silvia who spoke up.

"Exactly. Not only that, they prefer to write books and bury themselves in endless magical research. They've long since lost touch with reality and social conventions." Glyffe continued.

"People say they haven't left the store in five years," Silvia added. "Some townsfolk even think the owner doesn't sleep. They just write all night like some kind of undead scribe."

Weirdly enough, that sounded just like the average university lecturer.

"They have a..." Glyffe paused, "Unique appearance. You'll understand when you see them."

A... unique appearance?

I braced myself for what was coming. It looked like dealing with this librarian was going to be like being stuck between a book and a hard case.

Knock. Knock.

"Are we usually supposed to knock on shop doors before we entered them?" I asked. It wasn't a custom in my old world.

"No, not usually. Some shopkeepers prefer it this way though. I heard this shopkeeper is one of those. As you've heard they're quite eccentric."

No response.

"Do we just wait like this?" I asked, getting slightly impatient. "Should we knock again?"

"Let's just wait a little."

Still no response.

"How long is a little?"

No response.

"Okay, they probably didn't hear. I'll knock again." Silvia stepped forward and raised her hand.

Just then, the wooden door creaked open. Slowly.

I instinctively closed my eyes, mentally bracing myself. They were there.

The door opened just enough for a small figure to squeeze through the narrow gap.

Eyes with bags so deep they hadn't slept since birth… or not. Their eyes were a clear, bright hazel. Glasses perched on their nose, but not in the ancient-magician style I was expecting.

Skin so wrinkled it looked centuries old… or not. Their complexion was pale, smooth and almost porcelain-like.

Hair so grey and frazzled it predated magic itself… definitely not. Their hair was long, silvery white, and sleek, ending just below the shoulders. They wore a fashionable summer hat with a white trim and a sunflower on top.

Clothes so old and crusty they belonged in a museum… absolutely not. Instead, they wore a vivid blue summer dress, clean white socks, and simple strap-on shoes. Sky-blue?

What was going on here? An ancient recluse disconnected from the world?

No.

This was just... a little girl.

"Oh my." Silvia covered her mouth with one hand. The mysterious shop owner's reveal had surprised her too.

The girl scanned our group cautiously. We locked eyes, and as soon as we did, she recoiled a step. Not out of politeness, but out of instinct.

Out of fear.

"Uhm... H-hi. W-w-welc-come t-t-to C-clevio's Book-k-store." she stammered, her words blurring together in a flustered mess.

Her face tinted a faint pink, deepening into a bright crimson within seconds.

Slam.

The door snapped shut.