Vol 1 Chapter 23: Side Story 1 – Those Whom the World Forgot

Clear Skies Over Rose Valley…

POV: Little Thomas and Grandma Dora

The morning sun peeked over the eastern horizon of Rose Valley as two shadows crept through the forest.

"Crack…"

A small twig snapped under a footstep. A young boy walked between the tree trunks, holding a dry stick.

He swung the stick left and right, cutting down tall weeds that blocked his path.

"Whff…"

The grass swayed and fell to the sides, opening a path for him. He kept walking slowly while swinging his stick.

When he reached the edge of the grassy field, the boy stopped for a moment. His lips curled upward. Then, he raised his hand high.

“Hooray! I can feel my power growing. Hehe…” He puffed out his chest proudly. “Soon, I’ll catch up to the heroes. Red, wait for me...”

Thomas imagined himself standing proudly with a silver sword in hand before Sister Red—the shadow heroine who had rescued him from the slave traders.

The hero’s silver hair fluttered in the valley wind. Then, Red smiled gently and patted his shoulder.

“Good job, Thomas. You’ve become a hero just like me,” Red said in his imagination.

"Thok—"

Suddenly, a hand tapped the boy’s head. It didn’t hurt, but it was enough to snap him out of his wild daydream. The boy turned around and looked up.

“Grandma… don’t hit me,” little Thomas whined.

“Stop playing around!” Grandma Dora sighed. “You haven’t gathered a single piece of firewood. Do you want to eat raw eggs without boiling them?”

Thomas pouted. “Don’t blame me, Grandma! I haven’t found any wood.”

He pointed at the forest floor covered by green grass.

“There’s only grass here,” he complained.

“You’re playing too much, Thomas.”

Grandma Dora showed the bundle of firewood she carried on her back.

“See? Grandma already gathered dry wood,” she said firmly.

Thomas lowered his head, cheeks puffed.

“Okay, Grandma. I’ll look for dry wood. Don’t be mad.”

…

Grandma Dora paused for a moment. She let out a soft sigh, then gently patted her grandson’s head.

“Grandma isn’t angry. Just pick up the dry wood lying on the ground. Don’t be picky.”

“We must hurry. The fruit stall won’t wait forever.”

“Okay, Grandma,” Thomas nodded.

Little Thomas walked toward the other side of the grassy field. The tall grass hid his steps. He pushed aside the last curtain of grass, and then—

His black eyes widened.

Before him lay an open stretch of land shining under the forest’s canopy.

“Wow… there’s so much wood scattered here,” Thomas said in surprise.

His eyes narrowed, scanning left and right. Thomas turned back and called out to his grandmother.

“Grandma… come here, the dry wood is everywhere!” he shouted.

“Grandma’s coming, dear—”

Her footsteps stopped in front of the field of wood.

“This—” her eyes blinked.

Grandma Dora saw a field of cut logs stretching as far as her eyes could see in the middle of the wild forest. Thousands of tree trunks had been chopped clean. The logs lay neatly on the ground, now overgrown with wild grass.

“This is illegal logging—” Grandma Dora swallowed. “Who committed such a wicked act?”

Her eyes narrowed at the logs—decaying, abandoned, wasted.

Grandma Dora slowly walked onto the barren earth. She stopped before a pile of wood.

Her shoulders trembled as she saw a man with a ruffled collar lying weakly, leaning against the pile. His clothes were worn, covered in moss and wild fungi.

The man’s head drooped. His eyes were closed. Vines had wrapped around his body.

And around him lay dozens of knights. Their iron armour had rusted under the cleansing touch of nature. Rusted swords and dulled axes were scattered around them.

…

Grandma Dora froze. But her grandson’s voice snapped her back.

“Grandma… who are they?” Thomas asked innocently.

Grandma Dora turned to him and quickly covered his eyes with her wrinkled palm.

“Grandma… I can’t see,” Thomas complained.

“Don’t look, Thomas,” she said firmly, tightening her hand.

“Close your eyes! Stay right here, understand?!”

“Okay, Grandma,” Thomas obeyed.

Grandma Dora stepped forward and crouched before the man with the ruffled collar. She reached out and touched his nose lightly. She felt a faint breath.

“This man is still alive—” Grandma Dora rubbed the back of her head. “Who is he? I feel like I’ve seen him before… but where? When?”

She let out a heavy sigh. Then she checked the knights one by one, examining their breaths and pulses. When she was done, she stood beside her grandson.

“They’re all still alive. But why are they lying here as if the world has abandoned them?” she wondered.

...

Grandma Dora pondered for a moment. But the voice of her grandson snapped her out of it.

“Gran… can I open my eyes now?” Thomas complained.

Grandma Dora looked at little Thomas and sighed.

“You may open your eyes, child,” she said gently.

Thomas opened his eyes with a pout. But he instantly stared at the ragged men lying in front of the pile of firewood.

“Gran… who are they?” he asked innocently.

Thomas walked closer, squatted beside a knight sleeping on the mossy ground. He touched the knight’s rusted armour.

“Why is this knight uncle sleeping on the muddy ground, Gran?” Thomas asked as he poked the armour with his finger.

“Don’t touch him, child.” Grandma Dora held his tiny hand. “I don’t know either. But I will report this to the village elder.”

“Stand up, child. Let’s go home,” said Grandma Dora.

She clutched her chest. She didn’t know why, but when she saw the knight’s face, her heart tightened as if confronting people who had once hurt her.

Thomas stood and patted his thighs.

“We’re going home?” He tilted his head. “But I haven’t collected any firewood yet, Gran.”

“There’s no need. What I collected is enough.” Grandma Dora pulled Thomas’s hand. “Come, child.”

She stepped away from the man with the frilled collar and the ragged knights.

“Okay, Gran,” Thomas obeyed.

He kept glancing back at them as he was dragged away.

When Grandma Dora had walked far enough that they disappeared from sight, Thomas asked,

“Are you going to report them to the village elder, Gran?” He looked up at her face.

Grandma Dora tilted her head slowly toward Thomas.

“Them?!” She held her head. “Who do you mean, child?”

“Huh?! Them, Gran—” Thomas touched his cheek. “Uh… who were they again?”

Grandma Dora sighed. “Stop talking nonsense, child. I need to open my stall. Customers can’t wait. Hurry along now!”

“Eh?! I don’t want to watch the stall, Gran,” Thomas protested. “I want to practice swordsmanship. Sister Red is waiting for me.”

“You’ve been playing around all morning. Look! You didn’t bring back a single twig.”

“And now you’re refusing to help with the stall? Thomas… I didn’t raise you to be lazy,” she grumbled.

“Eh?! Didn’t you say something different earlier?” Thomas whined.

“Don’t talk nonsense! I don’t care! You’re helping at the stall today, understand?”

Thomas pouted. “Fine, Gran…”

“Good. Now let’s go home,” Grandma Dora said with a thin smile.

The grandmother and her grandson left the deep forest.

The morning breeze fluttered the leaves, sending them drifting across the open field in the heart of the woods. A leaf landed on the face of the man with the frilled collar—falling neatly across his face as if the world had already forgotten him.

—

A Few Moments Later…

Grandma Dora walked through the village market road. On her back, bundles of wood were tied neatly. The wood swayed each time her feet stepped on the damp ground.

Little Thomas followed behind her, head down and pouting.

Grandma Dora stopped at a fruit stall beside the market gate. She saw a young mother standing tall, holding her daughter’s tiny hand.

“Mrs Marry…”

Marry turned to Grandma Dora.

“Grandma Dora… I’ve been waiting for you,” Marry said softly.

“Forgive me, Mrs Marry. I’m late.” Grandma Dora glanced at Thomas. “If it weren’t for my grandson playing hero, I would’ve opened my stall already.”

“Gran… I wasn’t playing hero,” Thomas complained.

“I was practising swordsmanship like Sister Red told me to,” he said proudly, puffing out his chest.

Grandma Dora squinted. Marry covered her mouth and laughed softly.

“Grandma… Caelan wants an apple,” little Caelan whined.

“Caelan…” Grandma Dora stepped closer and patted her head. “Wait a bit, dear. I need to return home first to put down this wood.”

Caelan tilted her head, staring at the firewood.

“It’s okay, Gran. Caelan will wait here with Mommy,” she said innocently.

“Good girl,” praised Grandma Dora.

“Thomas… you should learn from Caelan. Sweet and obedient.”

“I’m not Mommy's daughter… don’t compare me to her,” Thomas muttered, crossing his arms.

“Caelan loves being Mommy’s daughter,” Caelan said proudly, hugging Marry’s waist.

Marry smiled and stroked her daughter’s hair. Then Marry glanced at the wood on Grandma Dora’s back.

“By the way… that firewood? How much is it, Gran?” she asked, pointing.

“Firewood?! Oh, Mrs Marry, I cannot sell this.”

“My house’s supply is empty. If I sell this, Thomas will have nothing but dry bread for dinner,” she explained.

Marry sighed. “I see… that’s unfortunate—”

“But…” Grandma Dora interrupted. “Mrs Marry can pick up firewood in the forest behind the village.” She pointed southward.

“Pick up firewood?” Marry asked.

“Yes, mrs. I found a lot scattered deep in the forest today.”

“Just walk further inside. You’ll find an open field in the middle of the woods. There’s plenty of dry wood there,” Grandma Dora explained.

“Thank you for the information, Gran,” Marry said sincerely.

“I shall take my leave, Mrs Marry.” She turned to Thomas. “Child… don’t be lazy. Help me carry this wood.”

“Yes, Gran…” Thomas said reluctantly.

He sighed, then looked up again. “Gran… aren’t you going to report them to the village elder?” he asked while rubbing his head.

“There you go again. Report who?”

“I don’t remember… but I think we met knights sleeping in the forest,” Thomas muttered, confused.

“There are no knights in our village—Come, let’s go,” Grandma Dora said, pulling his hand.

Marry narrowed her eyes at the word “knight.”

“Knights sleeping in the forest? Are remnants of the past still lingering there?” she wondered.

Marry lifted Caelan into her arms. Her blue eyes stared sharply toward the village’s southern woods.

“Mommy?” Caelan asked, holding her chin.

Marry quickly softened her expression and stroked her daughter’s head.

“It’s nothing, honey. Mommy loves Caelan so much,” she said warmly.

“Caelan loves Mommy, too. Hehe…” Caelan hugged her tight.

Marry smiled tenderly, savouring her daughter’s warmth, and murmured in her heart.

“I hope this peace lasts a little longer.”