Aeon of Roses

act 0-1: Rubedo part 1

Change of course

A_fateful_Meeting

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The crunching sound of the snow under his boots grated on the elderly man's nerves as he trudged through the thick snowdrifts. With each step, his feet felt heavier, and his movements slower.

His rough hands were chapped and numb with cold, and he rubbed them together in a futile attempt to generate warmth. His fingers were stiff and resisted his efforts to open and close them. The old man cursed his luck. The bitter winter season had descended upon the village of Argus, blanketing the forests with deep piles of snow.

The man couldn't recall when exactly it had started, but the past few weeks had been a constant struggle for him. An unexpected snowstorm had swept across the continent known as Amina, disrupting the lives of its inhabitants. For some, like the people of Minstral, a kingdom accustomed to snowy weather, it was a minor inconvenience that forced them to stay indoors.

But for the old woodcutter, it was a different story. His livelihood depended on cutting and selling firewood, which was in high demand during the winter season. So, as soon as the storm had passed, the scrawny old man had taken up his rusty axe and his trusty old basket and journeyed into the forest in search of wood to sell.

"...This is utterly ridiculous."

He muttered quietly in frustration, unable to believe how ridiculous the situation was. How could he have forgotten something as crucial as his gloves? As a seasoned woodcutter, he knew all too well the dangers of the cold, and yet he had somehow managed to neglect the one thing that would keep his fingers warm. Letting out a sigh, the elderly man trudged forward and continued his ascent up the snowy hill.

Eventually, he reached his destination - a small field filled with fallen trees, a casualty caused by the nocturnal creatures that haunted the area. The mere thought sent a shiver down the old man's spine - those creatures of the night.

Occasionally referred to as monsters, sometimes animals inhabited by malevolent spirits, or just mere demons devouring human flesh. The woodcutter clasped his hands together and expressed a brief prayer of gratitude to the divine beings safeguarding his spirit.

"I express my appreciation to the deities safeguarding my well-being. May they bestow their blessings upon my endeavors and bring prosperity, abundance, and kindness to both me and my ancestors, forevermore."

Every day, the woodcutter followed the same routine. When he went out to chop wood, he would consistently express gratitude to the gods, ensuring his continuous favor with them.

They had always protected him against the creatures of the night, more times than he could even remember. He couldn't help but let out a small laugh. His customers always mocked him for being so superstitious and religious.

The elderly man would often receive questions such as, "Aren't you tired of saying the same prayer over and over again?" or "Why aren't you angry at the gods for putting you in such a desperate situation?" or "The gods won't listen to a prayer from a poor, lonely woodcutter."

The man could only laugh in response. In a way, they were right. Occasionally, doubt would sneak into his heart. But that's just a part of life. Not every prayer would be answered, and not everyone would be lucky enough to escape the grasp of the creatures of the night.

Despite not having his own family due to his wife's passing, the old man remained grateful for his continued existence. He may not be wealthy or have a support system of family and friends, but he found solace in the fact that he was still alive.