The Runesmith

“…Is Mother, is she there?”

“Yes, young Master. Just step through the gate and it will take you to your destination.”

“Alright…”

Arthur found himself standing in the teleportation gate chamber. Some time had passed since the gathering of the nobility, and at last his request had been granted. Before him stood a stone platform where a faint azure light shimmered across intricate runic engravings. The symbols pulsed softly, steady as a heartbeat. He took a slow breath and stepped forward, realizing the meeting he had long awaited had come sooner than he expected.

“Do not be afraid, young Master.” 

Said the attendant, a man dressed in white mage robes.

“The gate is keyed to your bloodline. It will recognize you and allow your passage.”

“It is restricted to my bloodline?”

Arthur stopped himself and asked. 

“Indeed. Only those of the direct Valerian bloodline may step through.”

“I see…”

It appeared the gate had been designed to restrict entry to his father and brothers, though he doubted his brothers would ever be permitted to use it. His mother was a subject few dared to mention. The ladies of the court despised her, viewing her as a woman of low birth, and her being a moon elf only deepened their disdain. 

‘My mother often said that as long as I hold her in my heart, we will never truly be apart… ’  

Arthur was aware that his presence here was an unprecedented event. He was supposed to vanish in Albrook, forgotten while one of his brothers ascended to the seat of Duke after years of struggle. Although his moon elf blood had granted him a longer life, he was uncertain whether he would ever see his mother again. She was held captive by his father, and if someone like Theodore were to claim victory, Arthur doubted she would survive.

‘I’ll have to thank my friend for making this possible’

The runes glowed brighter, swirling into shifting patterns as the azure gateway took shape. With a faint smile, he stepped forward and passed through the teleportation gate. His vision blurred, and for a brief moment he felt weightless, then the sensation vanished as he emerged on the other side.

He found himself standing on a stone terrace overlooking a peaceful forest clearing. The scent of pine and blooming moonlilies drifted through the air. A soft mist floated over a circular lake whose still waters reflected the sunlight like polished glass. In the distance, nestled among tall trees, stood a modest villa built of pale stone and wrapped in green ivy.

It lacked the grandeur of a palace but radiated warmth and quiet life. Birds sang from the branches and behind the villa lay a small garden filled with herbs, flowers, and vegetables. A few elves worked there, trimming the hedges and tending the soil. One of them noticed Arthur’s arrival and froze in surprise, for visitors were rare in this place.

‘The illusion has improved since the last time.’

Arthur remained still as the servants hurried to greet him. He did not mind. Those who tended to his mother were few in number. Everyone living here was a woman, either a maid or a fellow moon elf. They were trapped in this place along with her, unable to leave, yet their loyalty to his mother remained unwavering. Her true identity was a secret known only to a select few.

This place where his mother lived looked like a summer villa surrounded by forest and a lake, but it was nothing more than an illusion. The sky was artificial, and a mage using a flotation spell could easily reach its boundary. Although the area stretched several kilometers in circumference, it was a confined space that no one could leave. If he walked in a straight line, he would eventually reach a barrier that could not be crossed.

‘A beautiful, tranquil birdcage… but still a cage is a cage.’

That was what it was to him: a prison for his mother, created by his father. It was a cage he longed to free her from, and for that, he needed to become stronger. In the past, he had abandoned the idea of ever becoming Duke, but after this incident, he began to see it as a real possibility. Even if he failed to claim the title himself, there were other paths he could take. Ivan, one of those who despised him, was already out of the race, leaving Theodore as the main obstacle. If he could at least stop Theodore from winning and instead help his older brother Julius claim victory, that could be enough.

Still, he nurtured a faint hope. In the past, he had thought his brothers were beyond his reach and that their strength was incomparable. Now, after everything that had happened and after seeing them in action, he was no longer certain. He was a tier-three class holder, just like them, and he believed his Knights were superior to theirs.

‘This is no time to think about such things…’

Arthur’s mind began to fill with doubt and thoughts of noble intrigue, but this was not the time for such things. This should have been a joyous occasion, a long-awaited reunion with his mother, whom he had not seen since leaving Isgard for Albrook. At last, his heartbeat slowed, and he stepped onto the moss-covered stones that led away from the teleportation gate. The gate stood some distance from the villa, giving him a moment to take in the view and to chuckle at the sight of the servants hurrying toward him.

“Art…Young Lord, is that really you?”

One of the servants reached him first. She was an older elf woman, far older than most, and someone Arthur remembered well from his past. Like everyone gathered here, she had long been part of his mother’s entourage. To him, these women were not mere servants but people he cherished more than the entire Valerian household combined.

“It’s me. How have you been, Sylmira? And no need for that tone, I’m still just little Arthur.”

His appearance had changed since the day he left. He now looked more like a noble, with an air of refinement that matched his spotless attire. His old maids seemed to see him less as the boy they had helped raise and more as a member of the Valerian household he had once stood apart from.

Sylmira blinked, her silvery eyes shimmering with disbelief before a gentle smile curved her lips. For a moment, she simply stood there, taking him in. His polished attire, the way he carried himself, and even his posture all spoke of maturity.

“Just little Arthur, hmm? I’m not sure that’s true anymore. The last time I saw you, you were only a child, but now you look like a man, a proper noble lord.”

Her eyes grew misty as she spoke, and soon two more women joined her. They were slightly younger in appearance, though still well over a hundred years old.

“Welcome back, young Master.” 

They said in unison, bowing deeply. Their clothing was much like that of the maids who served in the main palace.

“What did I say…” 

Arthur muttered, frowning as he looked at the three women. Sylmira and her helpers had raised him and stood by his mother’s side for years. To him, they were already family. If he ever gained the power to free his mother, he would bring them all with him. He knew some of them longed to return to their homeland but could not, and he silently vowed to grant them that freedom one day.

“My apologies, it has been so long, I just had to… my no our young Arthur.”

A smile crept on the headmaid Sylmira’s mouth as she finally spoke to Arthur more casually. Arthur chuckled softly at her words, relief easing the tension in his chest.

“That’s more like it.” 

He said, smiling. 

“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten how to tease me.”

Sylmira gave a short laugh, brushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. 

“Forgotten? Not a chance. You may look like a fine noble now, but I can still see the boy who used to sneak extra pastries from the kitchen.”

Her tone was warm and teasing, and for the first time since stepping through the gate, Arthur felt some of the weight lift from his shoulders. The younger maids behind her giggled quietly, their eyes bright with nostalgia.

“Come.” 

Sylmira said, gesturing toward the villa. 

“Let us take you through. I’m sure you remember most of it, though some things have changed since your last visit.”

Arthur nodded and followed her along the stone path lined with moonlilies that swayed gently in the faint breeze. The air was clean and pure, carefully crafted to bring tranquility. It was a pleasant place to stay, yet after years in the same surroundings, even this beauty would fade. As they walked, Sylmira spoke of small things, pointing toward the villa’s garden and the shimmering trees beyond.

“The Lady insisted on growing the white bell herbs again.”

She said with a quiet laugh. 

“They require a lot of sunlight, but she said she liked the sound of their chimes when the wind brushed past them. We had to convince the mages to add a soft breeze to this place. You should have heard them complain.”

Sylmira continued to point out small details. She showed him the garden his mother had expanded, the new glasshouse where she cultivated rare herbs, and the small shrine by the lake that the maids kept immaculate.

“Your mother spends most mornings tending the garden. She says it helps her forget…” 

Her voice softened at the end, and she glanced at Arthur. 

“She misses you terribly, you know.”

He wasn’t sure how to reply, but eventually nodded. 

“I’ve missed her, too. More than I can say.”

“I know…” 

Sylmira said gently. 

“She never doubted you would come back. Every full moon, she sits by the lake whispering your name as if it could reach you through the water.”

Arthur quickened his pace as the maid continued speaking about his mother. The more she was mentioned, the stronger his longing grew to see her and take her away from this quiet prison.

Sylmira led him down the final path of white stones bordered by pale blue flowers that glowed whenever touched by moonlight. The sound of the lake grew clearer, and the chirp of unseen birds became louder. Arthur’s steps slowed as the trees parted, revealing the lakeside clearing. There, on a wooden bench by the water’s edge, sat his mother.

She looked as he remembered her: tall, graceful, her silver hair tied loosely behind her back and flowing like moonlight in the breeze. A basket of threads and cloth rested at her side, and her fingers moved delicately, stitching a pattern into white fabric. For a moment, she seemed at peace, the very image of serenity. But then Arthur noticed something as a strip of black silk was tied across her eyes.

His chest tightened as he realized something was terribly wrong. Sylmira stopped a few steps behind him, her expression filled with sorrow.

“She… Lady Aeloria wanted to be the one to tell you.” 

She said softly. 

“Please, be thoughtful and don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment.”

Arthur nodded, though the words barely reached him. He stepped forward, his boots sinking slightly into the soft grass.

“Mother…”

The word left his throat weakly, and as it did, his mother stopped. Her hands froze mid-motion, the needle suspended in place. Then, slowly, her lips curved into a faint smile.

“Is that my little Arthur?” 

She said, her voice just as he remembered: soft, caring, and peaceful. 

“Yes, it’s me.”

“So it truly is you. I wondered if the great moon would answer my prayers.”

Arthur hurried forward and knelt before her.

“Mother, it’s me. I’ve come back.”

Her hand reached out, trembling slightly as it searched the air. He caught it gently and pressed it to his cheek. She laughed softly, just as she always had. Her face still carried that bright smile he had cherished since childhood.

“I can feel it. You’ve grown. My little Arthur has finally become a man.”

She spoke as her hands moved across his face and shoulders. He had grown stronger since he left, his body reshaped by the tier three transformation. It was something he had been proud of, something he had wanted to share with her, but now all he could think about was her condition.

“Mother, your eyes… what happened?”

Her smile faltered for a moment.

“Ah.”

She breathed, turning her face slightly away. 

“So you’ve noticed.”

Arthur clenched his jaw, anger burning behind his eyes.

“Who did this?”

“It was no one worth your hatred.” 

She replied quickly. 

“A small act of cruelty, born of jealousy and fear. Do not waste your heart on vengeance, my son. My eyes do not matter. My spirit will not be shaken as long as you are here, my precious boy.”

“But why didn’t his grace protect you? He made a promise!”

He wanted to cry out, to demand the truth, but before he could, she pressed a gentle finger to his lips.

“Don’t blame your father, it’s not his fault… he did his best to protect me and you.”

She replied and kept smiling. As in the past, his mother defended Duke Alexander. He had never understood why she was so lenient with him, but she always said that the duke was protecting them in his own way. He just needed more time to mature and understand.

“It doesn’t matter. Now help your mother up. We must prepare a feast. My son has returned! If I had known you would come today, I would have waited to begin this stitch. Now I will have to start again.”

When she mentioned the embroidery, Arthur looked at the fabric she had been working on. Even without her sight, her hands had not lost their abilities. The image on the cloth was of him. Not as he was now, but as the boy she remembered. A much younger version of him, one that saw the world in brighter light. 

Arthur helped her to her feet, the light from the lake catching the silver threads in her hair. He tried to hide his trembling hands as he steadied her. Her touch was as gentle as ever. Warm, comforting, and filled with that unshakable grace that defied her circumstances.

“Come, Mother.” 

He said softly. 

“You shouldn’t overexert yourself.”

“Overexert?” 

She laughed

“I have sat in the same place for too long. A walk with my son is hardly work. It is a blessing, and my legs work just fine.”

She gently tugged at one of Arthur’s cheeks, then moved her hand around his and pressed her face against his arm with a quiet sigh of relief.

“I’ve missed you. Now tell me, what have you been doing all these years? If you’re here, then something must have happened. I’ve read all of your letters, but you never mentioned any of this. Were you trying to surprise your old mother?”

It seemed that his mother and the maids were unaware of the attack that had taken place at the palace. This was not surprising, since their only contact with the outside world came when supplies arrived once a week. His mother was not permitted to leave, and the maids shared the same restriction. Occasionally, she received a newspaper and some gossip from the other servants, but that was all.

“Surprised? No, I can’t say I expected this to happen. I don’t even know where to begin. So much has happened.”

“We have time. Tell me slowly, perhaps over some tea. Sylmira.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Sylmira bowed her head and turned toward the villa, the other maids hurrying after her. The faint sound of footsteps and rustling skirts faded as Arthur and his mother began to walk slowly. The plants chimed softly in the distance while Arthur began to tell his story.

“Well, after I left the city, I arrived in Albrook with Mary and two loyal knights. At that time, I thought I was finished and would never return here, but then I met someone quite peculiar.”

“Oh? That sounds interesting. Who was it? Did you perhaps get married?”

“M-married? No, nothing like that, Mother.”

His mother brightened at the mention of the person who had changed his fate, yet she seemed a little disappointed when she realized he had not married. It was clear that she longed for grandchildren, but he was not ready for that step.

“This person is more of a friend. His name is Wayland.”

The loss of her eyesight still lingered in his thoughts, but he chose to ignore it for now. His mother was in good spirits, and he did not want to make her worry. He continued his tale, describing the strange rune craftsman who had changed his life.