Ill-fated. Unlucky. Depressing.
Three words that perfectly summed up Akio's childhood.
While other children played and felt the warmth of love and protection, Akio knew only cold stares and hard labor. By the age of six, he was already working at Blacksmith Roy's shop, tucked away past the forest, down the old dirt road.
From hushed whispers and half-truths exchanged among the workers, he pieced together the story of his birth—a tale soaked in sorrow.
It was cruel irony. A day meant to celebrate new life had become one of mourning. His mother had died giving birth to him. Rumors claimed that in desperation, his father struck a deal with a witch to save the child. But magic always demands a price. And in this case, the price was her life.
Born under such grim circumstances, Akio was never quite like other children. He matured quickly—faster, stronger, sharper than anyone his age. Whether it was manual labor, hunting, or later, combat—he picked it up with ease. Some whispered that the witch's magic hadn't just saved him; it had changed him.
He had gifts. Abilities that would one day elevate him far above his humble beginnings.
But in the present, none of that mattered. His relationship with his father was a hollow shell—two strangers under one roof. His father gave him what he needed to survive, but never love, never warmth. Akio couldn't recall a single conversation with the man that wasn't about food, chores, or household matters. It was like living with a ghost—a tired soul who left for work each morning and returned at dusk, only to disappear again.
And so Akio grew up—cold, withdrawn, with a permanent scowl etched onto his face. Life was survival, nothing more. With no friends and a loveless home, his only escape was the wilderness. He hunted, explored, sold his catch for coin. Every copper went into a savings pouch, hidden under a loose floorboard. One day, he'd leave this life behind. Where to? He didn't know. As long as it was far away.
One afternoon at the forge, Akio was pouring molten steel into a sword mold when the front door creaked open. Four men stepped inside. Tall, battle-worn, and hard-eyed, their presence shifted the air.
Akio's eyes instinctively followed them. One of the men locked eyes with him. Most would've looked away immediately, lowered their head in submission. Akio didn't. He met the stare, unblinking, until a sharp smack to the back of his head made him flinch.
"Stop gawking and get back to work!" barked one of the senior smiths.
Grimacing, Akio rubbed his head and turned back to the forge. But he could still feel the man watching him.
"Boy!"
Blacksmith Roy's voice cut through the chatter. Akio looked up. No one here ever called him by name.
"Prepare these," Roy ordered, shoving a crumpled list into his hand.
Akio scanned the list. Spears, swords, war hammers—standard weapons. Unlike most of the workers, Akio could read. One of the few useful things his father had taught him.
He packed the weapons into a large sack with practiced ease. The bag weighed nearly as much as he did, but he hauled it over to Roy without a struggle. Roy stumbled as he took the sack, his face flushing with embarrassment. He shot Akio a scathing look, humiliated by the boy's strength.
Akio turned to leave, used to the silent resentment.
"Wait."
The calm, assertive voice froze him. He turned. It was the man who had been watching him.
"How old are you?" the man asked.
Akio hesitated.
"Well, don't just stand there gawping! Answer him!" Roy snapped.
"Thirteen, sir," Akio replied flatly.
The man studied him for a moment longer. "What's your name?"
"Akio."
Roy watched the exchange, confused by the interest in the boy no one cared for.
"Your parents... they still alive?" the man continued.
"Just my father. My mother died in childbirth."
A pause. The man nodded slightly, as if that confirmed something in his mind.
"Tell your father," he said finally, "that the Brothers in Arms wish to purchase you. Give him this."
He tossed a small pouch to Akio, who caught it with ease.
Akio stared at him, stunned.
Roy, however, sprang to life. "What about me? I'll be losing money. What do I get out of this?"
Without a word, the man pulled another pouch from his coat and tossed it at Roy's feet.
"This should suffice. Akio—say your goodbyes. I'll return tomorrow."
With that, the men turned and left.
Akio stood frozen, the weight of what had just happened crashing down on him.
The Brothers in Arms. The name alone could silence a tavern. A rebel mercenary group, feared across the kingdom. Outlaws. Traitors. To associate with them meant death—especially under Duke Boswell's rule. But Blacksmith Roy, with his shady dealings and love of coin, clearly didn't care.
Back at the forge, Akio quietly resumed work, the man's words echoing in his head. Was this a request... or an order? He already knew the answer.
That evening, Akio returned home. The house was still. His father, as usual, sat at the table with a book in his hands—thin, sunken, barely clinging to life. Though likely only in his late thirties, he looked twice that age.
"Father," Akio said quietly.
The man looked up, emotionless.
"The Brothers in Arms wish to purchase me. They've given you this." He placed the coin pouch on the table.
His father glanced at it, then returned to his book.
Even after all these years, the coldness still stung. Tears welled in Akio's eyes, but he said nothing. He turned and went to bed.
By dawn, Akio was packed and ready. He left without another word. His father remained at the table, reading.
Around midday, two men arrived. One was the same from yesterday.
They loaded the remaining weapons into the cart. As Akio approached, the man placed a hand on his shoulder, looked him in the eye, and said,
"Today, Akio, is the day you become a man."
Then he grinned and ruffled his hair.
Akio climbed into the back of the cart, and together they rode off. As they passed the blacksmith shop, Roy emerged to watch them leave. Akio turned and raised an obscene gesture, shouting a few colorful words as his first act of freedom.
Laughter erupted from the mercenaries. Roy turned red with fury and slammed the door behind him.
But it didn't matter. Roy had no power over him anymore. Akio was now one of the Brothers in Arms. And crossing him would mean gambling with your life.
But as the cart rolled farther away from the only home he'd ever known, one question lingered in his mind:
Was this new beginning truly the freedom he'd hoped for?