The scent of morning dew lingered as Clara opened the door to let in the breeze. Elias toddled ahead on uncertain legs, each step a triumph of balance and confidence. His tiny feet brushed against the grass, and he stumbled twice—but laughed both times.
"You're getting better at this, sweetheart," Clara said, crouching with a smile. "Next thing I know, you'll be sprinting off with Erwin."
In the distance, Erwin's wooden sword swished through the air, slicing invisible foes. At only seven, his form was improving, each motion smoother than the last. He paused when he saw Elias watching and gave him a proud grin. "You watching me, little guy?"
Elias grinned and lifted a small stick of his own, wobbling into a clumsy pose. Erwin chuckled. "Hey, not bad."
From the gate, Kaela entered with a small cloth bag slung over her shoulder. Her hair was tied back, her steps brisk. "Morning, Clara," she called. "I brought the herbs you asked for!"
Clara welcomed her in with a wave. Elias waddled over to Kaela and raised both arms.
"Well, look at you!" she said, lifting him easily. "You're heavier than last week. Have you been stealing extra bread again?"
Elias gave a soft giggle, one hand reaching up to tug at a lock of her hair.
They spent the early morning chatting while Erwin practiced, and Elias wandered between the flower patches, Kaela's herbs, and Clara's skirt. A peaceful rhythm settled in—a moment of quiet joy.
Then came the sounds of footsteps.
From the road appeared a pair of children—twins around Elias's age. A boy and a girl, both with curly brown hair and wide grins. "Mama said to bring the herbs early," the girl announced proudly, holding up a small bundle. "We're Rika and Milo!"
Clara blinked. "Oh! From the Withers' farm. How sweet of you both."
Milo pointed at Elias. "He's little! What's his name?"
Elias blinked, uncertain.
"His name's Elias," Kaela answered for him. "And he's smart. Smarter than he looks."
Rika crossed her arms. "Can he find frogs?"
Elias stared blankly.
"Didn't think so," she teased.
Elias narrowed his eyes and walked to a patch of weeds. He bent over, lifted a rock—and a small frog jumped out. Milo and Rika gasped in delight.
"No way!"
"He's got magic!"
Elias puffed out his chest slightly, satisfied.
That afternoon, Clara took Elias with her to the market in the outer district. People greeted her kindly, familiar with the Smiths. Elias sat on her hip, watching everything—the fish stalls, the spice carts, the laughter of strangers. His eyes lingered on a small forge tucked between buildings. Sparks flew as a man hammered glowing steel.
A boy, maybe ten, stood beside the forge handing tools. His arms were muscled, his face smeared with soot. Elias watched him silently.
The boy glanced over, then offered the tiniest nod.
Later, as Clara bought bread, Elias wriggled from her grasp and toddled toward the forge. The boy noticed and approached. "You're not scared of fire?"
Elias stared at the hammer, then the boy. "Bang," he said softly.
The boy smirked. "Yeah. Bang."
He handed Elias a cooled scrap of metal shaped like a dull dagger. "Not sharp. But it's yours."
Elias held it reverently. The boy patted his head. "Toma," he introduced himself.
Clara rushed over, breathless. "Elias! You scared me—"
Toma nodded politely. "He's brave."
Clara gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you."
That evening, back home, Elias sat near the window clutching the dull blade. The air had a gentle chill. Erwin joined him, legs crossed, rubbing his shoulders after training.
"What's that?" he asked.
Elias lifted it. "Sword."
"Nice." Erwin chuckled. "Mine's better."
They sat quietly, watching the stars peek out. Clara hummed a lullaby from the kitchen.
From the corner of the house, Kaela called, "Don't you two fall asleep out there."
Elias rested his head against Erwin's side. The warmth of home, the cool air, and the quiet laughter of new friends—it all blended together in a memory he knew he'd hold onto.
Somewhere deep inside, a question stirred: How long would this peace last?