Chapter 8: Chapter 7: The Black Horse and The New Goal
As Arthur sat at the edge of the mountain with his sword stuck to the ground between his legs and resting on his left shoulder, wind pulling at his cloak as he opened the golden locket in his hand.
Inside, there was a small, marble stone embedded in the center.
He paused.
Suddenly, a memory surfaced—blurry, dreamlike. A woman's voice. Gentle. Familiar. Her face unclear, but her warmth unmistakable.
"Arthur… if you're ever scared, or just want to see me… open this locket and say 'Mama,' okay?"
Arthur blinked, his throat tightening. Slowly, barely above a whisper, he said:
"...Mama."
The marble glowed softly—then sparked with a light that shimmered like stardust.
A faint projection shimmered, three figures formed in the stone, hazy at first but slowly coming into focus.
A man with warm eyes. A woman holding a baby. And the baby—smiling, reaching out his dad—it was him.
Arthur didn't move.
The wind breezed around him, but everything else was silent.
No words or expressions.
Just one single tear rolling down his cheek.
He finally remembered her face.
And her voice echoed again in his mind—
"Hang on, son."
Later,
Arthur arrived at Torvale Village, the place those hunters had mentioned. He was searching for forest—to find traces of where he might've come from.
The villagers pointed him toward the forest at the edge of the vast open land.
Arthur followed the path until he reached it—but what lay ahead wasn't what he remembered.
Where there once was a lively forest filled with life… now stood a bleak stretch of dry, dense leafless trees. The air heavy with a dark fog. The place felt… dark void.
He stepped closer, but a group of armed guards stationed at the edge of the forest stopped him.
One of them said. "Halt... This area's no longer hunting zone and also roaming is restricted."
"I'm not here to cause trouble," Arthur said calmly. "I just wanted to see the forest. I have a pass."He held out the travel permit Sir Vale had given him.
The lead guard took it, examined it for a moment, then said stiffly, "This pass only grants access to Kingdom territory. Not to this area. You'll have to leave."
Arthur furrowed his brow. "Why is the forest restricted?"
The guard didn't answer directly. "The reasons are classified."
Arthur clenched his jaw, after a pause... he turned away.
As he started walking back, one of the younger guards scoffed behind him. "Tch. Look at his clothes. Stupid commoners think they can go wherever they want."
The senior guard shot the younger one a glare. "Back to your post. Now."
Arthur kept walking.
But deep inside, he got real mad, thinking he came so close yet so far.
Arthur walked back toward Cravendorn's capital. With no coins left for a carriage ride, his legs ached from days of travelling by foot. But he didn't care.
The sorrow in his heart weighed heavier than the pain in his feet.
Still, his resolve remained firm.
Next time... I'll find them.
Then he heard the sound—a sharp whip-crack followed by a pained grunt of a horse.
Arthur's eyes narrowed. He turned toward the sound and spotted a fat noble man sitting on top of a young black horse, furiously yanking at its reins. The animal's hind leg was trembling, clearly injured. The man struck it again with the end of a rope.
"Move, you useless beast! You can handle a bit of pain!" the man barked.
Arthur saw himself in the horse.
he stepped closer. "He's injured. Let him rest."
The man scoffed, not even turning his head. "He's lazy, that's all. Trying to fake it, avoid work." Smacked again, the horse whined.
Arthur said, "You hit him one more time, I'll see your end."
That guy still with arrogance, "Hey Brat this is my horse and I'll do what I want". He thought to himself, who is this brat scaring me in my own damn place.
Arthur, "How much"
That got the man's attention. He turned, laughing with his whole gut. "You? you don't look like you can afford a pair of boots, let alone a stallion like this."
Arthur glared. "How much?"
The man eyed him, the laughter dying down slightly. "Hmph. This beast hasn't moved properly in days. But he's a rare breed from the eastern lines. Could still be bred—so he's not worthless. You want him, you pay fifty gold coins."
Arthur blinked. "Fifty?"
A short silence.
Then—he nodded. "Alright. I'll be back. Till then don't damage him more."
The man scoffed. "Sure."
Arthur turned and walked away.
Back in capital.
With no license yet to take up swordsman work, Arthur began scouring the capital for anything that could earn him a coin—carrying crates, guarding warehouses, even cleaning out filthy stables.
The city, gleaming with riches and still rot. The work was plenty—but the pay was scraps.
Two days passed.
And he had barely managed to scrape together less than two gold coins.
Tired. Dirty. And frustrated—he leaned against a stone wall near a market square, watching rich merchants toss coins for fun while servants struggled under their carts.
Arthur stood across the street from a wealthy noble merchant, watching him carelessly toss a small pouch of gold into his cart—probably more than 50 coins in there. Enough to buy the horse. Enough to be done with this.
He quietly moved through the crowd, as he got close.
Sir Vale's face flashed in his mind. Arthur thought, this is not what I got taught. I don't wanna harm Sir Vale's reputation in any way.
Arthur gritted his teeth and backed away, But still,
This is all wrong, he thought.
The hierarchy was rotten to the core. One noble enjoying the wealth built on the backs of a hundred commoners. Children starving, bones showing through their skin—while men like that grew fat, wasting food and coins for entertainment while making them work.
This can't go on.
His fists clenched.
The system needs to change. I don't know how yet… but I'll be the one to do it. I'll become the greatest swordsman hero this world has ever seen—and when I do, I'll change everything.
Then, he went to a nearby goldsmith.
From his bag, he pulled out his golden locket—gleaming. He opened it gently, removed the small marble stone inside—the one that held the memory of his parents, the only thing left.
Then he handed over the golden shell to the goldsmith.
The smith examined it, and with a cheeky smile and handed him a pouch of 70 gold coins.
Arthur took it silently, tucked the marble into his palm, and walked away.
He found a modest leather shop, and had a simple black leather locket made. Something strong. Durable. He carefully placed the marble stone inside and hung it around his neck.
Then, he returned to the outskirts of the city.
The fat nobleman was still there, grumbling beside the struggling dark horse.
Arthur walked up and tossed the 50 coins at his feet.
"Fifty coins," he said. "Now let him go."
The man blinked in surprise, opened the pouch, and scoffed. "Huh. Didn't think you'd actually get it. Fine. He's yours. Good luck getting him to move though."
Arthur walked past him, gently approached the horse, and knelt beside it. The animal flinched at first, but calmed under Arthur's hand.
"Don't worry," he whispered, "You're free now."
And for the first time in days, Arthur allowed himself a faint smile. He remembered himself 8 years back when Sir Vale freed him.