That morning, the sky was clear without a single cloud. Sunlight slipped through the gaps in the leaves, dancing among the dewdrops that had yet to evaporate. The warm air touched my skin, a sign that today would be an exhausting day.
I let out a deep sigh, staring at the golden wheat fields before me.
"Ugh... it's hot," I muttered, wiping the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand.
I'd been used to this kind of work since I was ten. It never made me rich, but it was enough to keep me and my mother alive. That was more than enough—far more, in fact.
"Yo, Rey! As always, you're way too enthusiastic!"
I turned around. That hearty, spirited voice belonged to a middle-aged man with silver hair tied back. His face was full of wrinkles, but his smile never faded.
That was Jagu Ixiliar, our village chief. He had led our village, Hago, for three decades now, and under his leadership, our small village had grown into the largest wheat producer in the Kingdom of Moniyan.
"Not really, Jagu," I replied briefly, offering a small smile.
He laughed heartily.
"How old are you now, Rey?"
I rubbed my chin, trying to remember. I'd been working so long, I'd nearly forgotten how to keep track of my own age.
"Hmm... seventeen, I think."
"Seventeen already, huh? Time sure flies."
Jagu looked at me for a moment, a hint of sadness in his eyes.
"Don't you want to become a royal soldier? With your skills, you definitely could."
I fell silent for a moment. That wasn't the first time I'd heard that offer. But my answer remained the same.
"No, Jagu. I want to stay here. Mother... she's still sick. I want to take care of her."
Jagu nodded slowly, as if he understood but still felt regret. Maybe, to him, a young man like me deserved more than just fields and medicine.
After finishing the harvest, I handed the last sack to Jagu. He pulled out a leather pouch from his pocket and handed it to me.
"This is your pay for today."
I received it with both hands and bowed deeply. "Thank you so much, Jagu."
"Go home now. Your mother must be waiting for you."
I walked home with light steps. Sweat still clung to my temples, but my heart felt warm. The money I received wasn't much—just a hundred Piah silver coins. But every single coin mattered. Every single coin brought me closer to hope: curing my mother.
On the way back, I looked up at the sun now high in the sky. I raised my fist with determination.
"Today I got a hundred coins! Thank you, God…"
Arriving at the front of the house, I took a short breath. Our home wasn't big—just a round structure with wooden walls and a roof made of dried clay. But... this house was full of memories. This was where I grew up, and where my mother raised me all on her own.
I opened the door slowly and spoke softly.
"I'm home, Mom."
From behind the bedroom curtain, a dry cough echoed painfully.
"Huk-huk... Rey, you're home…"
I quickly entered her room and found her lying weakly on a thin mattress. Her once-bright eyes now looked dull, yet still radiated the same warmth.
"Mom," I said, sitting by her side.
"Look, I earned a hundred coins today." I continued.
She looked at me for a long moment, then smiled.
"Rey... you've grown up so much. I'm happy to see you like this."
There was a pause before she continued.
"But... I want you to chase your dreams too. I want you to become a soldier of the Kingdom of Moniyan."
I looked down, holding her hand—warm but frail.
"I can't, Mom. I don't want to leave you alone."
She only smiled and closed her eyes. I flinched.
"Mom?!"
"I just want to rest for a bit, Rey…"
I let out a sigh of relief, then kissed the back of her hand. I mustn't cry. Not in front of her.
I slowly stood from her bedside and looked at her as she drifted off to sleep. Her breathing was still audible, though heavy and occasionally interrupted by soft coughs.
I had to make something. Something that could give her strength.
I headed to our small kitchen. The room wasn't bigger than a cabbage field, but it felt familiar. It was where I'd spent much of my time since Mom fell ill—mixing, tasting, experimenting with whatever ingredients we had.
I opened the storage cupboard. My eyes scanned the contents.
"Carrots, potatoes, mushrooms, and... ah, venison. Nice."
That venison—I'd bought it yesterday from a traveling merchant who stopped by Hago's village center. It wasn't much to look at, but sometimes I got lucky and found something good like this.
I rolled up my sleeves and grabbed a knife.
As the blade touched the meat, that typical gamey scent hit my nose. I cut it into two pieces, then chopped it into small chunks.
Then I sliced the carrots and potatoes quickly. I carefully cut the mushrooms, making sure there were no rotten bits.
I lit the wood stove, placed a large pot on it, then added all the ingredients into the boiling water.
"Wait, something's missing…"
I sniffed the stew's aroma, but it was bland. I tasted a bit of the broth.
"Blegh. Terrible."
I scratched my head.
"Oh right... I forgot the seasoning, hahaha!" I smacked my forehead.
Kinda funny how I could forget something that important. I quickly added what seasonings I had: salt, dried basil leaves, a bit of pepper, and some fried shallot flakes.
I leaned in close to the pot, inhaling deeply. This time, a wide smile spread across my face.
"Now that's venison stew!"
I held my cheek with my left hand. The warm aroma of the dish filled the room.
Without realizing it, my heart felt calm. I didn't know why, but I felt like I was creating something far more important than just food.
"Venison stew with love... ah, that name's kinda embarrassing."
But I didn't care. I'd made this meal with all my heart.
I took a plate from the wooden rack and gently ladled the stew onto it. The meat looked tender, the broth golden and fragrant.
Before bringing the plate to Mom's room, I took a small spoonful for myself.
"Delicious," I muttered, satisfied.
I stepped into the bedroom, carefully balancing the plate to keep it from spilling. When I arrived, Mom was sitting up against a pillow behind her back. Her face was still tired, but she smiled when she saw me.
"What's that, Rey?"
I lifted the plate with a bit of dramatic flair.
"This is... venison stew made with love!" I answered proudly.
She chuckled softly.
"That's a cute name, Rey... just like the person who made it."
My cheeks flushed slightly.
"Ehe... as long as it's cute and delicious, it's fine, right?"
I sat at the edge of the bed and started feeding her gently. Each time she opened her mouth, I felt like I was giving her a piece of hope. One spoonful after another... and her gentle smile never faded.
"Ehhh, you have to eat too! I can't be the only one," she said, half-insisting.
I chuckled.
"Alright, Mom."
We ate together. In the midst of all this simplicity, in our little house that sometimes leaked when it rained, amid the illness we hadn't yet overcome—we laughed.
For a moment, time felt like it stood still.
I knew then... I had to do more than this.
I had to go to the Kingdom of Moniyan.
For medicine, for hope, for my mother's dream.