Heldric and his brothers
After the bandit fight, the village of Ashenveli finally fell into a rare quiet.
The air carried the scent of burnt wood and fresh earth, but most importantly, there was peace-something the villagers hadn't felt in months.
The children played again near the training grounds, though always within the safe line where the guards watched.
The elders sat beneath the half-broken shade tree, whispering prayers of thanks for the village's survival.
And the men and women who used to tremble at the sound of footsteps now walked with a little more courage.
Voltaro-known simply walked through the center of the village with his hands behind his back.
For the first time today, he wasn't training anyone, wasn't preparing for battle, wasn't thinking about the king or the nobles or the bounty hunters seeking his shadows.
He simply walked, breathing in the wind that rustled through the valley.
But peace made damage more visible.
As he passed each home, Voltaro's brows tightened.
Many houses stood with cracked pillars, half-broken walls, or roofs patched with whatever scraps the villagers could find.
Some homes were barely standing, reinforced only by ropes and poles.
Even after the bandits were defeated, the traces of their raids, the storms, and years of neglect remained.
Children slept in corners of rooms where rain trickled in. Families used blankets to stop the wind from pushing through missing boards. Couples cooked outside because their kitchens were unusable. Ashenveli was peaceful, yes-but it was wounded.
Voltaro stopped near a house where the roof had collapsed inward. An old woman struggled to clear the debris alone. Her arms trembled as she lifted a piece of broken wood.
Voltaro stepped forward silently, taking the heavy beam with one hand and lifting it aside as though it weighed nothing.
"Y-Young master Voltaro... you don't need to..." she whispered.
"I do," Voltaro replied gently. "No one here should live like this."
The old woman bowed her head in gratitude. Voltaro looked over the village again, this time not with concern-but with a decision forming.
Enough waiting. Enough temporary fixes.
Ashenveli needed to be rebuilt. Not patched, not repaired. Rebuilt.
Stronger. Safer. Worthy of the people who trusted him with their lives.
And he would make it happen.
As soon as the sun rose higher, Voltaro gathered his men at the training grounds. Raven, Eran, and several of the older boys stood at attention. The wind carried dust around them, but their eyes were sharp, ready for new orders.
"We're rebuilding the village," Voltaro announced.
A gasp ran through the group. Raven blinked. "Rebuilding... everything?"
"Everything," Voltaro confirmed. "New houses. New storage buildings. A new center hall. Strong foundations that won't crumble to storms or bandits. Ashenveli won't remain a half-ruined place any longer."
Eran raised his hand hesitantly. "But... we don't have architects, master. Or builders. We only repair things by hand."
Voltaro nodded. "Which is why I'm going to the kingdom. I will bring back architects and builders who can design the structures properly."
"But will the kingdom help?" Raven asked with a worried tone. "After what happened with the slave market... after the king tightened the borders..."
Voltaro's eyes narrowed. "They don't have to help. I just need architects. I'll make them agree."
The boys exchanged glances. They'd seen Voltaro fight monsters, bandits, and soldiers-but dealing with kingdom officials was a different battlefield.
Voltaro ruffled Eran's hair. "Keep the training going until I return. And make sure the villagers know-they won't be living in broken homes for much longer."
Eran straightened proudly. "Yes, master!"
Voltaro turned and headed toward the gate. His long cloak fluttered with each step, and the guards saluted as he passed. Once outside Ashenveli's borders, he summoned his mount-a sturdy dusk-brown horse named Varron-and rode toward the Eldrath Kingdom.
The journey took a day, but Voltaro moved swiftly through forest paths and river routes, avoiding crowded roads.
When he reached Eldrath's capital, its towering stone gates and gold-edged flags fluttered against the sky.
Guards inspected travelers more heavily than before, a sign of the king's raised tensions.
Voltaro walked through the streets, noting the contrast: while Ashenveli struggled with broken huts, the capital boasted marble buildings and intricate carvings. Carriages rolled over polished roads. Merchants shouted prices from fancy stalls.
He made his way to the Architect Hall-a large structure with blue banners, built for craftsmen who designed homes, towers, and fortresses for nobles.
When Voltaro entered, several architects glanced at him. Their clothes were elegant, their noses slightly raised. Voltaro approached the desk.
"I need architects willing to take on a village-scale reconstruction project," he stated.
The receptionist-a young man with spectacles-looked him up and down. "And which noble house are you representing?"
"None," Voltaro replied calmly. "I'm representing Ashenveli."
The man blinked. "Ashenveli...? The recently recognized settlement near the border?"
Voltaro nodded.
The man cleared his throat. "Unfortunately, all architects here work exclusively through noble contracts. Without noble endorsement or kingdom approval, we cannot assign anyone."
"I can pay," Voltaro said.
"Payment is not the issue," the man insisted. "It is about protocol."
Voltaro's jaw tightened. "Then let me speak to an architect directly."
By now, several of the architects had gathered, whispering among themselves. One of them, a tall man with a curled mustache, stepped forward arrogantly.
"We do not work with frontier settlements," he said. "Especially not with villages associated with... recent disruptive events."
Voltaro understood instantly-they meant the slave market destruction. They suspected his involvement but had no proof.
Another architect chimed in, "Even if we agreed, traveling to the border is dangerous. It is not worth our time."
Voltaro exhaled slowly. "I only need one team. I will handle protection. You will be safe."
The mustached architect shook his head. "We refuse. Please leave."
Voltaro's eyes sharpened-but he didn't cause a scene. Fighting here would not help Ashenveli.
He turned around and walked out of the hall.
For a moment, he stood on the street, watching people pass, carriages roll, merchants shout, and nobles laugh. The capital had everything, yet refused to help the people who needed it most.
He wasn't angry-but he was disappointed.
Then, as he started to walk away, a voice called after him.
"Hey! You there-the one asking for village reconstruction!"
Voltaro turned sharply.
Three men approached him from the side alley. They looked different from the polished architects-rougher, sun-tanned, wearing tools around their belts and carrying rolled-up design papers. One had messy black hair tied back, one wore a patched vest, and the youngest carried a heavy wooden box.
The leader stepped forward with a friendly grin.
"We heard your conversation inside," he said. "And honestly... those fancy nobles inside don't know half of what real construction looks like."
Voltaro raised an eyebrow. "And who are you?"
The man thumped his chest proudly. "Name's Haldric. Architect and builder. Not kingdom-approved-by choice. These two are my brothers: Jarn and Melo."
Jarn, the bulky man, nodded with a grin. "We build things that actually last."
Melo waved shyly. "I... draw the designs."
Voltaro studied them. They didn't appear wealthy or prestigious-but their eyes held sincerity. Hard work. Determination. Qualities he valued far more than noble status.
"You heard what I need?" Voltaro asked.
Haldric nodded. "A village reconstruction project in the borderlands. Dangerous, but... interesting."
Jarn cracked his knuckles. "We like challenges."
Melo hugged his box nervously. "I want to see more places. And maybe draw a whole village..."
Voltaro crossed his arms. "Why offer to help me? You don't know who I am."
Haldric laughed. "You're someone who's trying to build something instead of destroy it. That's enough for us."
Voltaro looked at them a long moment, then finally spoke.
"Very well. Come with me to Ashenveli. I'll ensure your safety, and I will pay you fairly."
Haldric grinned widely. "Deal!"
Jarn slung his toolbox over his shoulder. "When do we leave?"
"Now," Voltaro replied.
Melo gulped, then smiled nervously. "Adventure... here we go..."
As the three men gathered their small belongings, Voltaro felt a quiet satisfaction in his chest. He had been refused by the kingdom-but he found help anyway.
No pomp. No nobility. No arrogance.
Just real craftsmen willing to work.
Voltaro mounted Varron and gestured for them to follow him out of the capital.
They traveled together, talking along the way.
Voltaro explained Ashenveli's layout, its people, the damages, and the future he envisioned.
Haldric took notes, Jarn asked questions about the terrain, and Melo sketched rough ideas while riding.
By the time they reached the forest path near Ashenveli, the three men were buzzing with excitement.
"This village of yours," Haldric said, "We're going to make it shine brighter than the kingdom itself."
Voltaro smirked slightly. "Good."
As the sun dipped low, casting golden light on Ashenveli's gate, the villagers spotted Voltaro returning-with three unfamiliar men. Raven ran forward, followed by Eran and several guards.
"Master! You returned! And... who are they?"
Voltaro dismounted slowly.
"These are the men who will rebuild Ashenveli," he announced.
Gasps rose through the crowd. The villagers' faces lit with hope so pure it almost glowed.
Haldric stepped forward dramatically. "Bring us your maps, your broken beams, your worries. We're about to give this village a new life!"
Children cheered. Elders bowed. Mothers wiped tears from their eyes.
Raven looked at Voltaro with admiration. "You really brought them..."
Voltaro placed his hand on Raven's shoulder.
"This is just the beginning," he said softly. "Ashenveli will not just survive. It will grow. It will stand strong. And no king, no bandit, no enemy will ever break it again."
The wind swept through the village as if agreeing with him.
A new chapter had begun-not with battle, but with rebuilding.
And Voltaro would lead it to the end.
Too be continue...