The carriage creaked to a stop, settling at the edge of a quiet, lively village just as the afternoon sun softened into gold. Flora was the first to step down, brushing the dust from her skirt. Before she could even take another step, a small figure darted forward and latched onto her legs, burying a tiny face against her.
“Soliana…” Flora whispered, her voice soft and warm as her hands smoothed over the girl’s hair. “I’m back.”
The girl’s hold tightened, silent but trembling slightly as if afraid her mother might vanish again.
Roland stepped down carefully, his boots crunching against the cobblestones. Flora straightened and gently placed her hands on Soliana’s shoulders before turning the girl toward him.
“Soliana,” Flora said gently, “this is Prince Roland.”
Soliana peeked up through her lashes, her gaze soft but cautious. Roland hesitated, awkwardness tightening his throat. He wasn’t sure what to say — should he act princely? Friendly? Something in between?
“Um… hello,” he managed.
Soliana blinked once, gave the smallest nod, and pressed her face back against Flora’s dress.
Flora chuckled, amused. “Well, that went better than expected.” She tousled Soliana’s hair lightly and turned toward Roland. “Come on, let’s walk around. You should see the market while it’s lively.”
Behind them, Leon was left standing with two heavy trunks balanced across his shoulders, muttering under his breath as he watched the three of them wander off.
“Sure,” he grumbled, “just leave the pack mule behind.”
***
The village was alive.
Bright banners stretched between wooden beams, ribbons caught on the wind as laughter spilled through the air. Wooden stalls lined the cobblestone streets, each brimming with fruit, flowers, and trinkets. The smell of fresh bread mixed with roasted meat and sweet cider.
Roland couldn’t help but watch the crowds with wide-eyed curiosity. Unlike Inferna, no one here stared at him with fear. Their faces were open, smiling, unburdened.
“This is…” Roland whispered softly, “…different.”
“Harvest season,” Flora explained as she stopped at a stall of woven bracelets. “The whole village celebrates for another bountiful year. The merchants get busier than usual.” She glanced back at him with a teasing grin. “See anything you like, my prince?”
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Roland shook his head quickly. “I’m fine.”
Flora ignored him entirely and bought him a bracelet anyway.
A few steps later, Roland noticed Soliana staring silently at a small stuffed doll displayed on a nearby table. She didn’t say a word, didn’t reach for it, just stood there with quiet longing. Before Flora could notice, Roland cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Flora,” he said softly, “that one… can you buy it for her?”
Flora smiled warmly and turned to Soliana. “Would you like it, sweetie?”
But Soliana shook her head quickly, mumbling under her breath: “…It’s not what I wanted from you…”
Roland glanced at her, puzzled, but said nothing.
He began to notice the little things. Soliana walking slightly behind Flora, silent even when spoken to. Flora’s gentle smiles, always directed at him rather than her daughter. And slowly, realization settled into him — Flora came here for Soliana, yet spent more time doting on him.
The guilt crept In quietly, like a shadow.
***
After a while, Roland slowed to a stop near the market square.
“I’m going to find Leon,” he said suddenly. “I… want to think for a bit.”
Flora turned, surprise flickering briefly in her expression, but she didn’t stop him. “Don’t wander too far, Roland.”
“I won’t,” he promised.
He found Leon easily, still dragging their trunks toward the inn.
“You look lost,” Leon said with a faint smirk.
“Not lost,” Roland muttered. “Just… letting Flora and her daughter spend some time alone.”
Leon reached out, ruffling his hair before Roland could dodge. “That’s a little mature for your age isn’t it? Go breathe. You need it.”
Roland nodded faintly, reassured in his own quiet way, and left Leon to his work.
***
The sun dipped lower as Roland wandered past the last cluster of homes, out into the open fields. Golden grass swayed endlessly under the wind, soft waves catching the fading light. At the heart of it all stood a solitary tree, its white blossoms scattered across the ground like fallen snow.
Exhaustion crept into his limbs, and he lowered himself onto the grass beneath the tree. The breeze carried the faint scent of flowers. Petals drifted lazily above him, tumbling down until one landed softly against his chest.
And just like that, he remembered once again.
He remembered sitting in a hospital bed, a pale window framing a playground he couldn’t touch.
He remembered her voice — soft, steady, blind eyes turned toward him.
“Can you… describe it to me?” she had asked.
And he had told her about the white petals falling like snow.
Roland closed his eyes, letting the memory breathe, letting the wind carry the sound of her laugh somewhere far away.
When he opened them, the world before him felt… real. Too real. Arcadia wasn’t just a dream. It was here — the dungeons, the monsters, the adventures, the stories waiting to be written.
For once, he allowed himself to feel it.
***
Leon watched from a distance, arms folded casually. When he spotted a small figure approaching the tree, his lips curled faintly into a knowing smirk.
Roland lay beneath the shade, lost in the quiet, until a shadow fell across his face, blocking the branches and the sky above.
He blinked.
Long, wavy white hair tinged faintly with gold caught the sunlight. Orange eyes burned so vividly they bordered crimson under the shade. A girl bent slightly at the waist, peering down at him curiously.
Her smile was bright, playful — the kind of smile that demanded you notice it.
“Heya!” she said, tilting her head with practiced ease.
“Wanna help me out?”
