"It's a rainy night, isn't it, Julian?" "Yes, my lord, indeed it is," said Julian, Lord Leofric's sworn sword, his right-hand man. "It's as if the rain is trying to wash away my sins, but the wound may be too deep for it to heal." The rain turns into a storm, as if it's hinting at a terrible nightmare. "Waiting like this again feels... kind of empty." "Well, it is your fourth child, my lord." Leofric shakes his head, indicating that Julian is wrong. "No, Julian, something's different, something's off."
A servant comes in, "It's a boy, my lord." Leofric sighs as the wait was finally over.
A stomping sound, the sound of someone running. Someone opens the door, "My Lord! Her Grace, sh- she's dead!" Leofric's eyes widened as he dropped his sword and ran, while his servants followed him. A drop of water dripped down his cheek, there was no telling if it was a tear or a sweat. "Nymera!!" he screamed as he reached the room where she was giving birth. Leofric, a noble warrior who never dropped to his knees, even when fighting, collapses, holding his wife's hand, who he had promised eternal love to, as she lies dead after giving birth to her own son. "My lord, she... could not survive. Right after giving birth, she started smiling as her son was born, but then, in a moment, her head thudded and blood dripped from her mouth, her pulse wa-"
thud
Leofric held his hand up, telling his servant to stop speaking; it was a threat of some kind. The rain seemed to slow down, and it was quiet except for Leofric's cries. It was like God had played a game with him, taking a life away after giving one. Leofric, eyes red, stood up and told his servant to hand over the child, in anger and rage. The servant, scared, refused, and Julian tried to calm him down. It seemed like his sadness had turned into anger, driving him into a moment of despair. "No, my lord, he is still your son," said Julian, with a sad and a weak voice, trying to calm Leofric down.
After a few hours, Leofric's fiery rage calmed down, but didn't extinguish completely. "He will be given a noble son's life, but I cannot ever accept him as a true son of mine," said Leofric to Julian.
Julian, walked out to the open grounds and stared at the sun setting. "Oh dear Goddess, what is happening to your warrior, his rage... has changed his entire personality". Leofric, one of the noble knight acknowledged by the kingdom of Morvain, the head of Leodrick family, was acting like a mere fool.
The kingdom of Morvain, one of the four kingdoms, is famous for it's mastery in blacksmith. Leodrick family is a family that has been present for a long time, making them one of the 'true' nobles. True nobles are warriors who had contributed greatly in the Svaron War, thus being awarded for their bravery the title and the status of a noble.
In the center of the kingdom lays the Great Forge, an imposing building where the best smiths practiced their art. To the people of Morvain, blacksmithing was not just a job; it was something sacred. Skills were learned by the children of those who mastered them, and these skills were older than written words. This ancient knowledge was referred to as the Smith's Craft—a skill which required not only physical power but also the ability to respect the fire. The steel produced by the master smiths had its own spirit, stubborn and fierce, crafted by smiths who knew more about metals than other people knew about languages.
Rulers from foreign lands paid homage to the great kingdom of Morvain, offering it their gold, alliances, even peace in return for swords crafted there. But Morvain was proud and strong, preferring might to gold, and each blade leaving the kingdom spoke volumes of its pride.
Steel is forged in fire, so were the knights of Leodrick.