There had never truly been peace between the Theocracy of Plegia and the Halidom of Ylisse. It was said to have been that way since the the First Exalt vanquished the Fell Dragon during the days of the Schism. Yet, despite the tensions between the two nations, things had never escalated to war.

That is, until Exalt Albus XIII of Ylisse waged a crusade against Plegia, claiming that it was a heretic nation that deserved to be razed to the ground, and aimed to destroy every man, woman, and child who worshiped Grima.

It was a time of chaos.

Gangrel, a boy whose tenth birthday was fast approaching, meandered through the streets of the town surrounding Plegia Castle, taking in the sights of the unfamiliar district that he had found. The roads were cleaner than the slums where he and his mother lived, and less crowded than the marketplace. The people were dressed nicer, too.

Where was he?

Then Gangrel noticed that the signs above the shops had words on them. He couldn't read, but he could recognize some of the letters. His mother had taught him that much.

This must be a nice place.

"Hey, kid!" A guard approached him, leaving his post by the gate that Gangrel had walked through. "You lost?"

"Uh...no?"

He may not know where he was going, but Gangrel could remember how to get back to where he had come from. That meant he wasn't lost, right?

"Well, you look a bit out of place, anyway. You should probably head back to wherever it is you live."

Did he look out of place? Gangrel's red hair and eyes were the part of him that stood out the most, but he supposed his faded and worn-out clothes looked strange compared to what the other people nearby were wearing. He also didn't have shoes. That was probably weird, too.

"Okay, then..." he said, frowning as he turned to walk away from the guard. He had been hoping to do some exploring, but that would have to wait for another time.

The marketplace was busier than usual, filled with people wearing traveling clothes and moving in large groups. Some even had wagons. The commotion was making it difficult for Gangrel to find his mother.

"Trinkets for sale! Copper rings and bronze things!"

Oh, there she was!

Gangrel wove his way through the crowd until he spotted his mother, Farryn. She was standing beneath the awning of the bakery that belonged to a man who sometimes gave him the pastries that were too burned to sell. As usual, she had a smile of her face and was carrying a peddler's tray that held the jewelry and ornaments she had for sale.

"Gangrel, love, where did you wander off to?" asked Farryn once she saw him running toward her. "I was starting to get worried when I couldn't see you anywhere."

"A nice place," he said, smiling. "The signs had words on them and everything!"

Farryn smiled back at him, adjusting her tray so that she could ruffle his hair. "They did, did they? What else did you see?"

"Not much. A guard told me to leave as soon as I got there." Gangrel frowned. "Mum, do I look weird?"

Farryn gave her son a confused look. "What's this about?"

"The guard said I look funny." That wasn't what the man had said, but it was what Gangrel thought he meant. "So do I?"

"Love, you've got fire in your eyes...and on your head, too," said his mother with a soft chuckle. "Not many people here have that, but it suits you just fine. It also makes it easy to see you when there's so many people around."

Farryn always made a point of complimenting her son's looks and would often say that she was "plain" in comparison because her hair and eyes were brown. But Gangrel thought his mother looked just fine. Sometimes he even wished that he looked more like her.

"But what about my clothes?" asked Gangrel. "They're full of holes!"

"I've done my best to patch them up," said Farryn, frowning. "But I suppose you'll need new ones soon enough. And shoes, too. I couldn't do anything about it when you outgrew your last pair."

Gangrel's eyes lit up. "I'm going to get new clothes?"

"Yes." Farryn went back to holding her tray with both hands. "But first I need to sell a few more things. I'll be here a while yet, but you can go home now and help your aunt with dinner."

"Okay, Mum!" he said, giving her a quick hug before darting off.

Gangrel's pace slowed as the street he was running down became narrower and dirtier, the buildings tall enough to cast shadows and barely let in any light. He had to watch his footing or else he'd step on something sharp, like broken glass. This was why he preferred the marketplace.

He came to a stop outside a drab little shop with a sign that his mother had told him read "Annette's Curios." It was the only shop in the area with words on its sign. The others just had pictures.

The shopkeeper, Annette, was Farryn's closest friend and she was his aunt of sorts who shared her loft above the shop with them. While she was a bit strange and sold random things that didn't seem useful, she was nice, had hair the same colour as his, and loved him almost as much as his mother did, so he loved her too.

The shop was cramped and dusty and stacked to the ceiling with who-knows-what, but Gangrel quickly found Annette seated behind the counter, scribbling in a ledger.

She looked up as he walked up to the counter and gave him a warm, welcoming smile. "Hello, little one. Where's your mother?"

"At the marketplace," replied Gangrel, glancing at the ledger. Most of what she had written were numbers, which he understood about as much as letters. "She sent me home early."

"And, like a good little boy, you did as you were told," Annette said, laughing. "Better than you roaming around on your own, though. Things've been getting hectic in this city lately, what with all the people coming in from the countryside. Won't be long until all the lodgings are filled up."

Was that why the marketplace had been so busy?

"Why are they coming here?"

"Haven't you heard? The Ylisseans are attacking." Annette became more serious. "Their King, the Exalt as they call him, has gone mad."

"Mad?" asked Gangrel, tilting his head to the side.

"Yes, mad. He declared war on us because most of us Plegians worship Grima." Sighing, Annette shook her head. "I always knew revering that horrid dragon would bring this nation trouble..."

Grima... Many people worshiped the Fell Dragon, but even Gangrel knew that few people actually believed that it existed. And, regardless of whether they believed or not, they had to worship it, or else the Grimleal would punish them. That much he knew, too.

Gangrel didn't know whether he believed in Grima or not, but he knew that his mother did.

"Dragons are real," he remembered Farryn saying. "Most have hidden themselves away or travel the world while pretending to be human, but they are real and they deserve our respect. Even Grima, but you must respect him out of fear."

Between the Grimleal and Ylisse, Plegia was going to be in trouble no matter what its people did.

"Will the Ylisseans come here?" asked Gangrel, scared.

"The brave soldiers of Plegia are fighting them off as we speak," said Annette, smiling in an attempt to comfort her nephew. "Ah, but don't worry your little head over it." She reached over the counter and smoothed down his hair. "I'll close up shop soon, so you can head upstairs without me."

"Okay, Auntie…"

Gangrel walked around the counter and went up the stairs that lead to the loft. It was a large room with a sloped ceiling. There was a hearth surrounded by cooking utensils at one end of the room. At the other end, there were two pallets, one for Annette and one for Farryn and Gangrel. In the middle of the room was the low table where everything from eating meals to his mother's jewelry-making happened.

Even though there wasn't much to it, it was the only home that he had ever known, so he liked it.

Later that night after dinner had been made and Farryn had returned home, Gangrel, curled up on the pallet beneath a blanket, drifted in and out of sleep while his mother counted the coins that she had earned that day and talked with Annette. Their voices were low, but he could still hear them, and he could tell that his mother was unhappy. It must have been a bad day.

Although they lived with Annette, Farryn preferred to sell her wares independently even though her friend had offered many times to work together with her. Farryn didn't want to be a burden on the one providing them with a home. Annette, however, insisted that she was just stubborn and needed to learn how to ask for help when she needed it. This was something that they often argued over when they thought that Gangrel wasn't listening.

Regardless of who was right, Gangrel decided that he wanted to help his mother however he could. She deserved to be happy.

While roaming around the marketplace the next day, Gangrel found five copper pieces and one silver piece on the ground. It wasn't much, but if he kept it up, it could eventually be enough money to pay for something. Like clothes. If he was able to buy his own, then his mother wouldn't have as much to worry about.

He was fairly certain that his mother's sales were doing poorly because of how many people were seeking refuge from the war that Annette had told him about. Few of them had money and most were concerned with surviving more than they were about buying pretty things. It wasn't their fault, but it meant bad things for him and his mother.

Putting the coins into his pocket, Gangrel slipped away from the crowds and up the street to the district he had found the other day. If he timed things right, he could sneak past the guard and explore a bit more. Also, maybe he could find more coins.

Gangrel returned home with his pockets full of copper and silver pieces. Not only had he found more of them, but some people outside the shops in the district he had been exploring had given some of them to him. They had done so while saying things like "what a poor thing you are" and "here, get yourself a bite to eat with this," but he wasn't going to complain. Money was money.

"Ah, there you are!" said his mother after he entered the loft and closed the door behind him. She was in the middle of making a bracelet. "What have you been up to today?"

"I went back to that nice place I told you about. And look! I brought home something you'll like."

He walked over to where she was seated, knelt down, and emptied his pockets. Coins clattered against the wooden table loudly. However, instead of being happy, his mother was upset.

"Gangrel..." said Farryn, her voice low, "where did this all come from?"

"I found them."

"What? Where?"

"Most of it was on the ground, but some people gave them to me, too," explained Gangrel, his smile shifting into a frown. "I just wanted to help..."

"Oh, love, you don't have to do that," said Farryn, shaking her head. "Money might be tight right now, but we'll manage..." She looked at the coins and sighed. "But since you went to the trouble of finding this, I'll put it all to good use."

Gangrel beamed at her, and she smiled in return.

"I didn't want you to ever have to do something like this..." Farryn pulled him onto her lap and hugged him. "I went through having to beg and scrounge up money however I could after your grandparents lost everything and I had to live on my own. It was hard. I just wanted you to grow up to be an honest man."

"But I'm being honest," said Gangrel. "I told you what I did, didn't I?"

"That you did," said Farryn. "Just promise me that you'll leave the money matters to me, alright?"

"Alright, Mum," said Gangrel happily.

Unfortunately, it was difficult for Gangrel not to worry about his mother.

Fewer people were buying Farryn's wares. There were days when no one would buy anything at all. Also, someone had tried to steal the coins she had on her while she was walking home from the marketplace one day, but she fought them off. It was a close call, though.

Meanwhile, Gangrel was still trying to think of ways to help that didn't involve looking or asking for money. Around and around he went, thinking in circles but unable to come up with something. It was annoying.

What could he do?

Oh...that could work.

Gangrel looked through the small collection of special things that he kept hidden in a box inside one of the cupboards. The most special thing of all was a red stone that his mother had given him a few years ago. It was bigger than his palm and he could almost see through it if he held it against the light. It also used to belong to his father.

"Gael gave it to me just before he left," Farryn had said when she had handed it to him. He remembered her smiling as she spoke, but she had also sounded sad. "He couldn't promise that he'd return, so he wanted me to have it so I could give it to you."

"Where'd he go?"

"I don't know. Faraway, I'd imagine. He was an adventurer, that man."

Gangrel didn't know what kind of stone it was, but he figured that it was valuable. Maybe if he traded it he could get enough money to keep his mother from worrying? That was what he hoped.

But that plan was shot down right away.

"Please, love, I told you not to worry, didn't I?" Farryn asked, giving the stone back to her son after he had presented it to her with his idea. "And I could never imagine selling your stone. It's too important."

"Why?" asked Gangrel, confused. It was pretty, but he didn't know anything else about it that would make it so important.

"Your father said it was special. Magical, even. He hoped that you having it would keep you safe."

Gangrel frowned. "How can a stone keep me safe?"

"I don't know. But, then again, I'm not very familiar with magic. If anyone would know, Gael would have…"

There it was, that wistful smile his mother had whenever she mentioned his father.

Gangrel couldn't remember his father, but Gael had apparently been around when he was a baby. At least that's what his mother had said. Either way, he couldn't remember so it didn't matter to him much. It was hard to miss someone he didn't know.

But he wouldn't say that out loud. It would make his mother sad. So, instead, he put the stone away and went back to thinking up a plan.

"I have a job for you, little one."

"What is it, Auntie?"

Since he didn't want to accompany Farryn to the marketplace or be by himself in the loft, Gangrel was spending time with Annette. It was a slow day and few customers had come into the the shop. It was so boring that he was thinking of having a nap beneath the counter.

"Care to help me tidy up around here?" Annette, duster in hand, stooped so that she could see him on the floor and gestured over the counter, toward the stacks of things in the shop. "It's a lot to do by myself, so I figured I'd ask you. And so it doesn't feel like you're doing any old chores, I'll be paying you."

"You will?" asked Gangrel as he crawled out from his hiding place.

"Between you and me, I know that your mother's been sick with worry about money lately, but she's been too thickheaded to ask me for help," said Annette, smiling. "But...I don't think she can argue against you doing some honest work in exchange for honest pay. It'll build character."

Gangrel snatched the duster from Annette, eager to get to work. "Where do you want me to start?"

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, she said, "Dust what you can reach and I'll clean what you can't. Then I'll get you to sweep the floor."

"Okay!"

As Gangrel went about dusting the shop with Annette, she brought him up to date about what was happening in the castle town.

"The King isn't allowing refugees into the city anymore," she explained as she dusted one of the upper shelves. "People with nowhere else to go have had to set up camp just outside the walls. They say it's a real mess out there."

"The Ylisseans are still in Plegia?" Gangre frowned. He had been hoping that things would get better soon, but it sounded like they were getting worse.

"Yes, sadly." Annette shook the dust out of her cloth and want back to cleaning. "The Grimleal has an entire legion of sorcerers at their beck and call, so I don't know why they haven't sent them out yet."

Gangrel didn't know much about war, but he knew that magic was an important part of it. Mages were powerful and could kill a lot of people on their own. And as scary as they sounded, he agreed with Annette. He didn't want the Ylisseans to get any closer to them.

Farryn reacted much better to hearing about Gangrel helping out Annette than she had about him looking for coins in the dirt.

"How responsible of you, love," she said as she prepared stew for dinner than night. "I'll have to find a jar or something so you can keep your money in it."

"But I don't want to keep my money for myself, Mum," said Gangrel. "I want to give it to you!"

"And you're still as headstrong as ever…" Farryn sighed and set down the knife that she had been using to cut up vegetables. "Why is this so important to you?"

"I want you to not be worried anymore." Gangrel pouted at his mother from across the table. "You're always worried and it makes me worried and I want it to stop."

Farryn shook her head and went back to what she was doing. "I suppose I should count my blessings and be thankful that my son is so generous, shouldn't I?"

"Yes," said Gangrel, smirking.

Surprised by her son's response, Farryn laughed. "Very well… In thanks, I should give you your birthday gift right away. Go and take a look in the sack by our bed."

Curious about what it could be, Gangrel got up and went to their pallet to rummage through the leather bag that she had mentioned. Inside, there was a set of clothes and a pair of shoes. All of it was new and unworn.

"Do you like them?" asked his mother from across the room.

Running back to the table with the bag clutched to his chest, Gangrel said, "Thanks, Mum! I'm going to wear everything tomorrow."

The smile on his mother's face made him even happier than his new clothes did.

A resounding bang woke up Gangrel and Farryn during the middle of the night. His mother shot up and peered through the window while the boy groggily rose out of bed. Light, bright and angry, was coming in from outside and casting harsh shadows along the walls. It scared Gangrel.

Fire?

Looking to the side, he saw that Annette's bed was empty. She wasn't in the loft at all. That meant she was either downstairs or running one of the strange errands she sometimes did after the sun went down. Not having her there made him feel even more scared.

Silently, Gangrel went to look through the window with his mother.

As he feared, the light was coming from some nearby burning buildings, but that was not the only thing he saw. In the air, facing off against a group of wyvern riders, there were warriors atop flying horses. Pegasus knights.

The Plegian Army had failed to keep the Ylisseans away.

"We need to leave," Farryn said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your aunt should be downstairs. She knows the secret paths in this city better than I do and can lead us to a safe place to hide."

"But…" Gangrel said, unsure of what to actually say.

"We'll be fine, love," said his mother, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Now, come on."

Grabbing the dagger that she kept hanging on the wall beside the door, Farryn led her son out of the loft, down the stairs, and into the shop.

His mother was rather mousy, but at that moment she was stronger than he had ever seen her before. She was ready to fight. It made him feel safe.

As Farryn had said, Annette was downstairs, armed with a spear, and was ready to lead them out the back door.

"The backstreets are our best bet for avoiding the soldiers," she explained as she locked the door behind them. "They're a headache to navigate if you don't know where you're going and there are plenty of hidden entrances to the underground passages beneath the city. We can hide there."

They dashed through the alleyways and backstreets that ran throughout the castle town. Such a route was usually unwise at night, but, at the moment, it was much safer than taking the main roads. There was no way that an Ylissean soldier would bother to search such an out-of-the-way passage.

At least that was what they had hoped.

A war priest, dressed in blue and armed with a battleaxe, lunged at them from out of the shadows, shouting something about Naga and the Exalt as he aimed to cut them down.

Gangrel froze in terror, unsure of what to do, but Farryn and Annette didn't hesitate. Using her spear, the shopkeeper blocked the soldier's strike while his mother stabbed the man in the stomach with her dagger.

Unfortunately, that wasn't quite enough to stop the war priest.

Backing away, stumbling because of his wound, he freed his battleaxe from Annette's spear and swung down again, almost catching Farryn on the shoulder.

But before the war priest could attack again, Farryn backed away and Annette charged forward, spearing him in the chest.

The Ylissean, defeated, dropped his battleaxe and collapsed against a wall.

"Mum!" Gangrel ran to Farryn, ready to hug her, but stopped when he saw a red stain spreading from around a large tear in the sleeve of her shirt. "...You're bleeding..."

Looking at her arm, Farryn sighed heavily. "So he did get me. I thought he missed." Then she gave her son an encouraging smile and took him by the hand again. "Everything will be okay, love. Now, let's go."

Annette led them to the underground passages beneath the castle town. The entrance was well-hidden and there were few who knew how to find it. It was safest place they could have been other than Plegia Castle or the Grimleal Enclave.

It was an exhausting, sleepless night, but morning eventually came. Annette went above ground first to ensure that the way out was safe, and quickly returned with news that several wyvern riders were declaring that the Ylissean invaders had all been killed or forced to flee, thanks to the Grimleal's sorcerers.

Gangrel and Farryn followed Annette back to her shop in the slums because she wanted to see how much damage had been done. Miraculously, the building was mostly untouched. They wouldn't be homeless.

However, their home was the least of their problems because, although her wound had stopped bleeding during the night, Farryn was quickly overcome by a fever and had to stay in bed. Gangrel did what he could to help her, such as putting a cloth cooled in water on her forehead, but it wasn't enough. Even Annette couldn't help.

"I'm sorry, little one," said Annette sadly. "Healing just ain't one of my specialties."

"Can't we get a doctor to come here and make Mum better?" asked Gangrel, his voice shaking.

"They won't help unless you have a lot of gold," explained the shopkeeper with a sigh. "And most of the doctors here in the city are probably too busy tending to the rich to help out us commoners."

Gangrel's face fell. "But what about Mum...?" he whimpered.

Annette pulled him in for a hug, placing a hand on his head as she said, "We'll keep her as comfortable as we can. It's the best we can do for now."

When Gangrel went back to taking care of his mother, he couldn't help but wonder if they would have had enough gold for a doctor if she had saved her money and not spent it on new clothes for him. Once he began thinking about it, he couldn't stop. It wasn't long until he thought that everything was his fault.

Days passed and Farryn's condition worsened. Her fever didn't go away and the wound on her arm became more and more infected. She would only take small sips of the water and soup that her son offered her. There were times when it seemed that she was seeing things that weren't actually there.

Gangrel hoped beyond hope that his mother would get better, but a small part of him began to accept the inevitable.

"Gangrel..."

One night, after a little over a week had passed, Gangrel had fallen asleep next to his mother on the pallet while keeping watch over her, but woke up the moment she spoke.

"Yes, Mum?"

"I'm...sorry for how much I've made you worry, love." Farryn's voice was faint and her face was pale. She was exhausted. "I should...have done better...for you."

"Mum...?"

Why was she apologizing to him?

"I...love you, Gangrel. Be good...for me," she said, smiling gently as her eyes closed and her last breath left her body.

"Mum..." said Gangrel, shaking her arm in disbelief. "Mum? Don't leave me! You can't…"

No. This couldn't be happening. His mother was supposed to get better. What had he done wrong?

Nothing. He had done nothing wrong. There was nothing he could have done in the first place.

Gangrel broke down into tears.

Author's Note:

Well, here it is. My entry for the Brave New World Anthology. I've been waiting so long for this to be finished that it's almost surreal for it to actually be done now.

I'm posting this in parts because I don't know how to leave well enough alone and will be adding scenes to the later parts of the story since I don't have to worry about word count limits now. There will be three parts in total. Look forward to those.

If you want to read the anthology, go to my Tumblr and you should be able to quickly find the post that has the PDF links. All the stories are amazing and you should read all of them.

Remember, feedback is greatly appreciated and encouraged!

Cheers,
Brenna Snow