Start of a New Journey

  As the sun started to rise behind the endless gray plains, a scenery that was colorless yet peaceful to look at appeared. As the sun continued to rise, sunlight hit the tavern window, waking up Rodingten in his comfortable bed. Woken up by the sun, Rodingten got out of bed and started his daily routine.

  First, he went downstairs to tell the tavern owner to prepare water for his bath. After taking a bath, Rodingten started to dress. His outfits were fitting for a bard; some of them were engraved with gold, some were fancy-looking, but all of them were for different days and different music or dances. After choosing clothes suitable for travel, he went back to his room to take care of his instruments. He particularly liked and adored his guitar with R+O engraved on it. The guitar looked worn down from years of use, but it felt precious.

  After completing his morning routine, he decided to go downstairs to have breakfast with the Traveler.

  At breakfast, Rodingten noticed that the beggar looking traveler had changed his clothes. He was wearing a grayish-green robe, its chest area is partialy open, revealing a black shirt that complemented his muscular chest. His arms were tightly wrapped in gray bandages, reaching slightly above his elbows, where they tucked the robe beneath them.

  The robe was tucked into his baggy pants, which were held by a gray sash. His pants were the same color as his robe, and they were tied with bandages slightly above his ankles.

  Rodingten: "I didn’t know beggars can get promoted to a traveler."

  Traveler laughed a little: "Beg enough, and you will be an orchestra conductor."

  They both laughed at each other, their laughter lightening up the usually calm and boring morning of the tavern.

  Rodingten: "I didn’t know beggars can get promoted to a traveler."

  Traveler laughed a little: "Beg enough, and you will be an orchestra conductor."

  They both laughed at each other, their laughter lightening up the usually calm and boring morning of the tavern.

  Finishing breakfast, Rodingten said: "So, what’s your traveler rank?"

  Traveler: "Why don’t you try to guess it?"

  Rodingten: "Really? Aren’t you being a bit too 'mysterious'? Well, it’s probably Golden, since you aren’t saying it out loud."

  Traveler laughed: "Golden? Well, you can decide that on our journey."

  Confused by the traveler, Rodingten sighed: "Well, whatever your rank is… so, where are we planning on going?"

  Traveler: "I was thinking of the Kingdom of Brawan. The blacksmith cities there have many stories to tell."

  Rodingten: "Brawan? Hmmm… yeah, it might be a good choice. I heard they made a new instrument there."

  Traveler: "Are you talking about a saxophone?"

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  Rodingten, excitedly: "Yeah! I heard it’s like a flute but made out of copper, and its sound is both cheerful and relaxing."

  Traveler: "Well, that’s an interesting instrument."

  Both excited to experience new things, they decided to travel to Brawan, the city of blacksmiths.

  After breakfast, Rodingten went to his room to gather his things for the journey, while the Traveler decided to take a look around the village. While gathering his belongings, Rodingten noticed a photo. In it, he was 15 years old, standing next to four other people. Looking at the photo, Rodingten muttered something with a sad expression.

  At the center of the village, the Traveler was looking around, gathering information and resources for their travel. There, he saw the old carriage driver again.

  Traveler: "HEEY! Where are you going, gramps?"

  Old man: "I’m not going anywhere, but if you have the money, I’ll take you anywhere."

  Traveler: "I need to go to Brawan. Can you take me there?"

  Old man: "Of cour—Wait a minute! Aren’t you that beggar-looking bastard?"

  Traveler: "I’m a traveler, old man. Look at me—do I look like a beggar?"

  Old man: "It seems you got promoted. Well, whatever—it’s 20 coins to Brawan."

  Traveler: "20 coins? Well, that’s good enough. I guess we’re planning to depart at noon. Is that okay?"

  Old man: "We? Well, whatever. It’s fine as long as you pay."

  After securing a vehicle for their ride at noon, Rodingten and the Traveler met at the village center.

  Traveler: "Hey gramps, are you ready?"

  Unbothered bu presence of rodingten old man said: "Yeah, yeah. Get on already, you annoying brats we have a long way to go."

  After leaving the village by carriage, the Traveler asked Rodingten: "Do you know the history of Brawan?"

  Rodingten: "Well, I know the gist of it, but not all of it."

  Traveler: "Well, let me tell you both the history of it and a story from there:

  Brawan is a city primarily built by blacksmiths. It has so many blacksmiths because it was created by a dwarf and is located close to the mines. Brawan was founded by the dwarf lord Rhan Brawan. Rhan Brawan was a brave dwarf who used his hammer to forge weapons worthy of being called masterpieces. He led an army made entirely of dwarfs equipped with top-tier gear, his army was so strong that no one could oppose him when he created Brawan.

  That’s essentially how Brawan was founded, but what makes it interesting are the later generations. The descendants of Brawan were neither exceptional blacksmiths nor warriors, so they decided to join hands with other races, creating a new and improved Brawan. This was made possible thanks to the great hero and his comrade Wahra Brawan, the grown prince of Brawan. That’s how the current Brawan came to be."

  Rodingten: "It’s pretty interesting. So that’s where the song Brawan: Land of Wahra, Uniter of Races came from."

  Traveler: "Exactly. It’s said that a bard from the heroes’ party created that song after Wahra became the king."

  Rodingten: "Well, that’s interesting. So what’s the story?"

  Traveler: "The story is about a particular dwarf who had been disregarded by many.

  In the 3rd generation of Brawan’s royal family, there was a dwarf named Zehr Brawan. Zehr was an illegitimate child of the royal family; his mother was an elf, and he was a dwarf. Disgusted by his mixed heritage, he was hated by most, except for his brother Ratha Brawan. In a kingdom full of people who despised him, Zehr decided to run away at the age of 12.

  At the age of 20, Zehr awakened his soul trait, Dwarf of Nature. Dwarf of Nature allowed him to use nature itself as metal. Whatever he touched that was related to nature became as strong as iron. Shaped by his incomplete ideals, his mixed race, and his desire to prove his family wrong, Zehr possessed a secret ability: Nature’s Corruption, which allowed him to corrupt things made of metal.

  At this point in his life, Zehr wanted to take revenge on his family for their wrongdoings, but knowing it would only hurt the one person who cared for him, he chose to travel far from home. He became a traveling blacksmith, using nature as his metal, making no name for himself to avoid drawing the attention of his incompetent family.

  At 40, he heard news that his brother had become the king of Brawan. Zehr returned to his homeland, but he was not welcomed. His powers, his race, and the fact that he had fled home only increased the hatred from his blood relatives. His brother, however, remained unchanged. Ratha welcomed him with a warm hug. They talked for hours. Ratha was amazed by Zehr’s adventures, listening to him recount hardships and relationships, but what amazed him most was that Zehr had not sought revenge because he cared about him.

  While Ratha was talking about his own life, someone entered the room: a small child looked at Zehr and asked, ‘Dad, who is he?’

  Ratha, smiling, replied: ‘He is your uncle zehr brawan.’

  Traveler asked Rodingten: ‘Who do you think the child is?’

  Rodingten: ‘Hmm… I don’t know. Who is he?’

  Traveler: ‘He was Wahra Brawan, the Uniter of Races. Zehr was such a good person to his nephew that he decided to unite the races just for his uncle’s sake.’

  Rodingten: ‘Did his uncle see his accomplishments?’

  Traveler, shaking his head slowly: ‘Sadly, his uncle died at the age of 80 while trying to save Wahra. Maybe that’s why Zehr worked so hard to unite them.’

  Rodingten: ‘Maybe.’

  As the traveler’s story came to an end, the sun was setting. Rodingten decided they should set up camp. As the moon rose, they found a clearing in the forest, lit a campfire, and prepared for the night.