A few hours before the protagonist's birth.
World of Donthus, Human Kingdom of Norveth.
In a village far from the kingdom's capital.
It was winter, January 15th, around 1:00 PM.
The night before, it had snowed heavily.
In the village square, where the residents usually celebrated their festivals and which also served as the main trading point, it was much emptier than usual.
Only a few children between the ages of two and four, bundled up in warm clothes, played in the snow that had accumulated after the dirt road was cleared.
The previous year's harvest hadn't been the best, but after selling a good portion and paying their taxes, each family still kept a solid stock of grain and smoked meat to get through the winter.
Life in this kind of village wasn't bad in times of peace, when there were no wars between kingdoms.
But when the clouds of war began to darken the horizon, even the rats would hide, as they were hunted to ease the hunger that fell upon the kingdoms.
While the children were playing, a young man of about eighteen or nineteen, with short honey-colored hair and a strong build, ran across the square. He carried a bow and a quiver full of arrows on his back.
The children stopped playing, and one of the older ones shouted:
"Uncle Arthur, are you back from hunting already? What about Dad?"
The young man named Arthur didn't even look back.
"David, my child is being born! Your father will only be back tonight with the others!" he replied as he ran.
David was about to respond, but the young man had already turned down another street.
David looked at the other children like he was their leader and said:
"I'm about to get another subordinate. And with that, in the future, all of us are going to explore a dungeon!" he said excitedly.
A younger child with a runny nose spoke:
"Boss, I'm already the archer!" he said, pointing his thumb at himself.
"Marcus is the rogue." He pointed to another boy, around three years old, with dark brown hair and eyes of the same color.
Right after that, he pointed to a girl of the same age, with blonde hair, green eyes, and very chubby cheeks.
"Kelly is the healer."
Then he pointed to another girl with black hair and blue eyes, very cute and the youngest among them.
"Sophie is the fire mage."
Finally, he said:
"The boss is the warrior. Isn't our team already complete?"
David looked at the boy a little younger than him, with black hair and brown eyes, and replied:
"Jhonas, my dad said a dungeon is very dangerous, and the more people, the better. If when he grows up he's smarter than you, he'll already be pretty strong."
All the other children laughed at him.
"Hmph! I am smart! I'm the smartest!" he said, huffing and muttering.
They laughed even more.
Meanwhile, Arthur reached the door of a house made of unbaked bricks, with a roof of dried palm thatch.
From outside, it was already possible to hear the cries of pain from a young woman.
In a hurry, he opened the wooden plank door and went inside.
It was much warmer inside than outside, though it was still cold.
He closed the door and greeted a woman who was near the bedroom, waiting for him.
"Matilda, how is she?" he asked, his voice tense.
"She went into labor about four hours ago. When it started, I was on my way here to check if she needed anything. Her water broke, so I went to inform the village chief to send someone to call you, and then I went to get the midwife. We've been like this ever since," Matilda said in her gentle voice.
"What can I do?" Arthur asked nervously.
"You? Nothing. This is her war. You can't fight it for her. There's no need to worry so much, she's strong. If you want something to keep your mind busy, go put more wood on the fire and heat some water. It's already past noon, but it's still quite cold," Matilda replied.
Arthur said nothing more.
He went out to the back of the house, where there was already chopped firewood.
He gathered a few pieces in his arms and brought them inside, all the while hearing his wife's cries of pain.
After adding more wood to the fire and heating more water, time passed.
Arthur was no longer just nervous.
Now he was restless, pacing back and forth inside the house.
From time to time, Matilda would go into the room carrying hot water and come out with an empty basin.
After what felt like an eternity to Arthur, the sun in the sky was already setting when the noise in the room began to grow louder.
After some time filled with cries of pain and words of encouragement, everything went silent.
Then came a strong cry.
The cry of a baby.
Arthur rushed to the bedroom door just as Matilda opened it.
She was smiling.
"Congratulations. It's a boy—and very healthy," she said.
For a brief moment, Matilda's gaze dropped—lingering a second longer than it should have—before returning to Arthur's face, with a faint hint of teasing in her eyes.
Arthur frowned, not understanding, and hurried into the room.
When he entered, he saw the midwife, named Dolores, with her back to him, beside the bed where his wife lay, sweaty from the effort despite the winter cold.
He walked over to her.
"How are you, my dear?" Arthur asked, his voice mixed with relief and concern.
"Tired…" she said, looking at her husband with a weak voice.
"I know. Everything will be fine now," Arthur said, taking her left hand and looking at her with affection.
"What will we name our little boy?" she asked with a happy smile.
"My dear, you choose his name. You went through so much… you deserve it," he said with a gentle smile.
She then looked at the child, now clean and well wrapped, whom the midwife had placed in her arms.
"How about calling him Aron? May he be the strength of those in need and the light that illuminates the future," she said.
She looked lovingly at the child in her arms. The baby had a few thin strands of hair on his head, the same color as his father's: a beautiful amber shade.
Arthur looked at his son, whose face at that moment was wrinkled, resembling a knee with the leg stretched out.
"That's a very beautiful name," he said, trying to hold back a laugh.