Episode 1-a. The Village of Flying Letters.
Living means moving forward to obtain what one desires.
Meeting loved ones, accumulating wealth for a prosperous life.
Gaining hobbies to enjoy, and finding happiness in all of it.
This is a story that encompasses the life of such a person.
People live because they want.
They continue life because they wish to achieve their desires.
However.
Living is also a process of clinging desperately to one’s hopes and faltering.
A beloved person might suddenly die, or the wealth one has built might collapse.
There may not even be a shred of interest left for hobbies, leading to despair in all of it.
This is a story that embodies the ending of such a person.
People die out of desperation.
They hang on to what they deeply desire.
Desire and desperation.
Though they are certainly the same emotion, they also feel distinctly different.
And.
In Litera, there are always those who cling desperately to their hopes.
With hollow eyes, there are people who wished to grasp the lifeline of desperation.
A week passed in the blink of an eye.
“….”
“….”
Breaking the long silence was the bearded old man, Horn.
“… A week has gone by.”
“Yes… it has.”
Between us, seated on the inn’s bed, complex emotions flowed.
Was it emptiness? Or was it regret?
Or perhaps a dash of bitterness mixed in.
“It’s about time to pack. We can’t help that we didn’t receive letters, but we still have to move forward along the road.”
“Yeah, let’s do that. Sir, please take a look at the wagon.”
“Sure. Then I’ll go outside first.”
Horn spoke and exited the inn. Through the closing door, I heard an unusual sigh.
Not wanting the silence to flow again, the children approached with beaming smiles, each hugging one of my legs.
“Ain Oppa, then Tori and I will greet the others!”
“Don’t be too disheartened, Ain Oppa. They say if you only ever succeed, it’s much easier to fall!”
Even as they pouted in disappointment, their attempts to comfort me made me wonder if these children were growing up too fast.
“Yeah, while you’re out, share some bread and play a game of marbles.”
““Yes~””
I stifled my emotions and had no choice but to respond with a smile as I ruffled the hair of the two children.
Thus.
The kids left the inn, and I turned back to look at the one remaining person.
Avery, clad in a white robe, was conducting research at his desk, showing no signs of gloom.
“Avery.”
“Yes? Why do you call for me…? I’m diligently progressing with the ash-gray suppression research….”
“Can I not go see the patients you took care of? We are leaving right away.”
“It’s fine. I already visited the last time to say goodbye and handed over the medicine….”
He awkwardly suggested a smile while nodding, though deep down he might have been expecting a letter.
“I see. Well… you’ve worked hard over the past week, too.”
“Haha… Ah, Ain, you’ve worked hard as well. And you don’t have to be too saddened about not receiving letters… You’ve been doing well up until now, haven’t you?”
“…, yes.”
Avery smiled at my words and resumed his efforts at the desk.
He was certainly a strange guy, but just as resolute, so he didn’t waste his time on feelings of regret or bitterness like myself.
So.
I left him behind and stepped out of the inn for a moment, walking through the street crowded with people.
In other words, none of us received letters.
Of course, the week wasn’t quite over yet, but even when we reached the last afternoon, we remained unpicked.
Moreover, there were no letters for those who had been helping us over the past few days, and that simmering discomfort grew larger.
Their bittersweet smiles and swaying gestures, sensing our departure, remained vivid in my mind, lingering even as I walked the streets.
I felt as though the sparks ignited within them after we left could be extinguished once again.
The efforts of just a week couldn’t erase the deep-seated wounds that spanned years or even decades.
Holding onto a blind desperation alone would only lead us to bring silence back to those who continued to cling to life.
“Adventurer, you’re leaving today, right?”
“Yeah, it seems so.”
“I’ll always be cheering for you.”
“…, thank you.”
Thus, in encountering the gazes of the children I passed, I felt inexplicably guilty today.
“We’re the ones who should be thanking you.”
“….”
“We mean it. You’re the first adventurer who helped us like this.”
Their faces, once stark and empty, now bore smiles directed at me, rendering me oddly bittersweet.
I continued walking.
Packing was hardly a task that took much time, so I set out to walk and sort through my cluttered thoughts.
A small village.
The sky filled with letters.
After walking for ten minutes, thirty minutes, and endlessly for an hour, the people I encountered greeted me.
Some called me a strange fellow, while others said I was excessively kind.
Some called me a fool for seeking trouble, and others referred to me as a hypocritical adventurer.
They were the people I had seen over the week.
A bit dull, perhaps, but they were adventurers who had stayed longer than a week, and there were also elderly folks who blended with me while helping others.
Yet, among them, not a single one had received a letter.
During my week of stay, no one had received a letter.
As if none among them would leave a trace of themselves in this world, the ancient magic simply left letters floating endlessly in the sky.
So.
The figure of me boasting to my comrades that I would receive letters turned into quite a funny sight.
I loaded all the baggage onto the wagon.
Since I had hardly unpacked anything to begin with, I was able to finish preparation for departure soon after a two-hour stroll and giving my goodbyes to the people.
The sunset that had dyed the sky crimson was now disappearing behind the mountains, and the dusk was being colored purple.
Although the village skies were filled with letters to be seen from afar, the end of the day was indeed approaching.
“Really, you should have just departed more quickly, brat. What do you plan to do if the wagon hits a rock at night and you can’t see?”
“Ah… this dwarf is already starting again. It definitely seems to fit the traits of the dwarven race.”
“You’re making a discriminatory comment against dwarves.”
So Horn and I, trying to hide our bitter feelings, playfully bantered as usual.
I climbed up onto the driver’s seat and subtly grabbed the reins while Horn sat in the cargo area polishing a shield.
The twins, worn out from playing hard with the kids, were nodding off, and Avery was reading his research texts.
So I said.
“I’ll be departing now. Our destination is….”
I glanced at the letters in the sky one last time before quietly whispering, but absurdly, I halted my words for a moment and gripped the reins tightly.
Thinking about it, what exactly is our destination now? Where is the right place to start?
Though I sought to find a waymarker here, ultimately I had not obtained one, so I was uncertain whether my choice would lead to the correct path.
A sense of anxiety emerged that my one decision could twist the fate of my five companions traveling with me and that of the woman waiting in the empire.
Until now, I had blindly pushed forward with only my gut feelings and choices.
Deep inside, I had begun harboring hopes of receiving letters to reach even greater heights.
Like those still remaining in the village, I was also contemplating whether it was wrong to stay just one day, or perhaps two, or even three more.
Thus, I hesitated for no good reason over the fact that I had not received a single letter.
And.
In that moment, voices arose from behind me.
“Foolish one, don’t hesitate in your choices. Nothing is gained by hesitating, so just run forward, as you always have.”
““So! Our next destination is!””
“Haha… Let’s just say it’s a little late, but the goal remains the same, doesn’t it…?”
“….”
As if chiding me, the four voices trailed on, chuckling amongst themselves while teasing me.
“Set off, brat.”
““Wah~ Depart!””
“Haha… now, please do hurry and set off.”
They spoke with eyes filled with regret, yet also offered words of encouragement.
So I too, chuckling lightly, resumed my words that I had started.
“Now, we really will set off. Our next destination is the city of Tev, where night does not come….”
Flap—
“….”
Flap—
So it was.
As I was about to continue speaking.
In that moment when the purple dusk scattered, the dark veil covered the sky.
“… Oh.”
The letters that had filled the skies of Litera, hiding their beautiful colors, fluttered and began to play.
The letters, which had only filled the sky calmly in the same flow until now, moved vigorously with altered wingbeats and began to shine.
It was.
The flight of the letters I hadn’t seen even once during the week.
It was.
What I wanted to show them, and surely what I had desired to see.
Wow—
All the eyes of the people in Litera turned to the sky, and everyone exhaled gasps of admiration.
The scenery that had only been connected with letters now fell and poured down.
Even a single letter coming in would have been a marvelous sight, but now dozens of beams of light were heading toward the people.
“Ha… this crazy brat actually did it.”
““Wow…””
“Really…, it’s like a dream.”
Things that illuminated the dark night.
Letters flying in one by one, delivered to the people.
Those precious things.
To the children who had curled up in the alley, to the starving ones who had only been scratching at their festering wounds.
To the girl who had bid me farewell with gratitude and to the boy who wanted to be like me.
And, to the elderly woman sitting by the fountain.
The letters landed softly on their trembling hands, shining brightly.
The letters were delivered.
Expressions distorted as those who carefully opened the letters in their hands.
“Ugh….”
“Sniff….”
Years of desperation, or even decades of longing.
They became desperate cries filled with mixed emotions that flowed out.
Though some might claim these as worthless, to others, they were something they had longed for.
To some, mere fragments of the past that were simply lost, while to others, they were motivations to move forward.
“Aah, Mom… Ugh, sniff…”
The letters delivered to the children who lost their parents were undoubtedly filled with undelivered affection.
“Leo…, Father… I too…, I love you very much….”
The letters relayed to the old woman who lost her two children decades ago were filled with love from her children.
Just emotions.
Just feelings.
One might think that way, but there was no such thing as a letter that wasn’t necessary.
All that was contained in that single sheet of paper was something precious.
Flap—
The letters flying in like birds contained the longings of each individual.
And.
Six letters flew into our wagon.
One letter each flew into the hands of Horn, the twins, and Avery.
Three letters came to me, completing their luminous flight.
As the people began to murmur at the sight of us receiving letters.
More than that, from behind the wagon, I heard an even louder murmur.
“You’ve got to be kidding me… it’s a hundred years too late… such foolish beings….”
That was Horn’s sentiment.
““We too…, we love you. Mom, Dad….””
That was the twins’ tears.
“Haha… Is that so? It seems I was indeed on the right path after all.”
That was Avery’s smile.
So I.
I gazed softly at that scene before finally peeling open one of my letters.
– Ain.
– To the one seeking ash-gray.
– To the east.
– Move toward the east.
– The fallen star of twilight.
– May finding traces of Nasatya aid your journey.
That was the ancient prophecy and waymark I had hoped for.
– Ain.
– The bracelet has broken.
– So, just as you said, I will tell you what I wish for.
– My wish is.
– For you to be happy.
– So I will strive only for that.
– Ain, please continue your journey.
– I too, will begin my journey for you.
That was perhaps Asha’s heart, sent recently.
– Ain.
– I have indeed become happy due to what you have built.
– So do not doubt yourself, and move forward.
– You can achieve this.
– …
– Oh, and to let you know in advance, our child’s name is Eleanor. Isn’t it a pretty name?
– Hehe.
– Just kidding.
And.
“Ahem….”
That was perhaps her affectionate feelings sent from the future.
Thus.
Even after our wagon had left, the night of Litera was filled with joyful cries.
The seeds of hope had sprouted.
The possibilities had clearly begun to blossom.
Letters.
What is contained in that tiny piece of paper is not trivial.
Love and affection, memories and bittersweetness, longing and yearning.
Emotions that cannot be described and stories that cannot be conveyed in words.
Or perhaps prophecies.
Such things fly in from the past, present, or future, or even from beyond the river of death, reconnecting the blurred ties.
Thus.
Everyone becomes a protagonist.
A tiny possibility.
A story that starts from something small.
It is surely one’s own story.
One can only declare themselves to be the protagonist of a story that they alone can write.
Horn, the dwarven chief who lost his tribe and fell into despair.
Yaki and Tori, the twin siblings who lost their parents in war and lay scattered.
Avery, the plague doctor, who continued to doubt and mistrust himself.
And.
The elderly woman, Tershi, who had waited decades for children’s letters, along with the children losing hope as they lost their parents.
You too leave a trace in this world, and let that trace weave together words.
Ain.
To those foolish beings who embark on a journey for ash-gray.
Your story has begun to sing.
