THE CHOSEN ONE

chapter 8 - Knowledge

"Then the only thing that I can do for now is wait for a wanderer so that we can build a guild," I said, my gaze fixed intently on her. The weight of my words hung in the air like a fragile glass ornament, delicate yet charged with potential. At that moment of contemplation, where silence stretched between us, I noticed a remarkable transformation in Lai's demeanor. The cloud of uncertainty that had briefly darkened her features seemed to evaporate like morning mist under the sun's warmth, replaced by a newfound energy and enthusiasm that radiated from her.

"You don't have to do that, my husband," she replied, her voice bubbling with joy, a melodic harmony that danced lightly upon my ears. The way she said "husband" sent a jolt of exhilaration through me, igniting a fire in my chest. My heart raced, pounding like a galloping horse, a constant reminder of the extraordinary reality of my situation: I was now married to an incredibly beautiful woman, a partner with whom I could share my dreams and aspirations.

"So what can I do, Lai—my wife?" The words slipped effortlessly from my lips, as if they had been waiting patiently for this moment to emerge. As I spoke, I felt a rush of happiness enveloping my heart and soul, wrapping me in a warm embrace. It was a feeling I had never truly experienced before, a swirling tapestry of belonging and purpose that filled every corner of my being with warmth and hope.

"There are times when a kingdom builds their guild with their King as the grandmaster of the guild," Lai explained, her tone taking on a thoughtful quality, each word chosen with care. "That only happened long, long ago, during the age when the first guilds were established. Nowadays, the master and king classes typically join established and well-known guilds and kingdoms to leverage their skills as valuable assets." Her brow furrowed as she continued, "This evolution has made it much more complicated and risky for anyone attempting to create a new guild. You see, in order to gain recognition from the World Guild Organization, one must first establish a kingdom. Otherwise, the guild stands a high chance of being labeled as a Wild Guild, leaving it vulnerable to attacks from the entire World Guild Organization and other guilds as well."

As her words painted a vivid picture of the stakes involved in guild creation, the weight of our endeavor became clear. Lai's story carried the echoes of her family's struggles—struggles etched into her heart. "When my father tried to build a guild, he faced an onslaught from our neighboring kingdom, which sought to seize our lands—lands bestowed to us by the Gods who govern this world." Her voice turned somber, tinged with a mix of sorrow and anger. I could see a single tear escape from her eye, glistening as it traced a path down her cheek, a testament to the pain she endured while recounting the tragic fate of her kingdom.

"It might be hard to believe, but I just want to build a guild to create a safe space that I can genuinely call home in this world," I confessed, pouring my heart out in a way that felt both liberating and unnerving, unsure if Lai truly grasped the gravity of my emotions. "To tell you the truth, beyond the games we play together, I never had friends in my previous world. The friends I met through those games became like family to me. They provided a sanctuary to return to when I felt lost and downcast." My heart ached as I spoke, each word a piece of my soul laid bare.

As I shared my thoughts, the flicker of confusion on Lai's face brought with it a sense of apprehension within me. It dawned on me that perhaps she didn’t fully comprehend the entirety of my words, the depth of my longing for connection and belonging. Nonetheless, the yearning for a sanctuary, a safe haven, and the dream of building something meaningful resonated deeply within me, intertwining our experiences despite the differences in context. Perhaps, in that yearning, we could find a bridge over the gap of understanding, creating a path toward a shared vision—a guild of our own, where dreams could take root and flourish amidst the chaos of the world around us.

“Games? I can’t fully grasp what you mean, but I understand that you want to establish a guild to create a sense of belonging, right? I can relate to that feeling because my father mentioned something similar when he was planning to create a guild for our newly established kingdom. He envisioned a guild that would instill pride in his kingdom, a refuge that would keep its people safe from dangers, and a welcoming space for adventurers returning home from their quests,” Lai said, her voice brimming with happiness as she spoke fondly of her late father. There was a sparkle in her eyes that conveyed her pride in him and his dreams. Her memories seemed to animate her, bringing a vibrancy to her demeanor that painted her past in warm hues—soft but powerful, just like the bonds forged across generations.

“Your father had a noble ambition. Don’t worry; we share a similar vision of what a guild should be and what it represents—” I started to say, eager to share my ideals about guilds, my thoughts racing ahead. I envisioned the camaraderie and shared purpose a guild could foster, the relationships that would flourish within its walls, and the sense of home it could provide to weary souls lost in the chaos of the world. Each word I formed was imbued with passion, a beacon of my hopes for a community that would thrive and uplift one another. But before I could articulate all that was swirling in my mind, our conversation was interrupted unexpectedly.

“Wahhh!” Cassiel yawned dramatically, as if she had just awakened from a slumber that spanned a thousand years. “Good morning, Vin! Good morning, princess of a dying kingdom!” she greeted, rubbing her right eye as she squinted against the light, still recovering from her long nap. Cassiel’s playful entrance felt like a gust of fresh wind, half-awake and giggling, and the tension in the air dissipated almost immediately.

“Ah, you’re alive! I was beginning to think you’d been kidnapped by a god or something and had forgotten to come back and help me,” I retorted teasingly, unable to resist the banter. Our lighthearted exchange prompted a laugh from Lai at our side, and when we both turned our heads, we caught her in a moment of pure joy. It was a picture framed in laughter, her cheeks dimpled and her eyes twinkling with mirth.

“I apologize for laughing,” Lai said, a smile stretching across her face. “It’s just that you two seem so close. I actually thought you might be married for a long time! My mother and father used to exchange banter like that when they were alive,” she added, her expression turning slightly melancholic, yet her eyes glistening with tears of laughter. Her words painted a bittersweet image of a love that once was, and it reminded me of the importance of shared moments, of finding joy even amidst the shadows of sorrow.

As the three of us continued our conversation, the words flowed freely, weaving together tales of courage, adventure, and dreams that transcended the mundane. We shared stories of our childhoods, remembered laughter echoing like faint bells through time. The hours slipped away unnoticed, each minute weaving tighter the threads of our burgeoning friendship, while we were so absorbed in our discussions that we entirely forgot about the looming presence of the King, whom we should have been wary of—especially given what we had done to his son. The weight of our secret loomed over us like an uninvited guest, a dark cloud looming on the horizon, but at this moment of buoyancy, we pushed those thoughts aside. It was a mistake that would inevitably haunt us in the future, but for now, we were caught up at this moment of camaraderie, reveling in the illusion that everything was alright, at least for just a little while longer. Here, surrounded by laughter and shared dreams, we felt invincible—untouched by the world outside our little bubble of joy.