Morning light slipped gently through the small window of Ifan’s room. The space was simple; A narrow wooden bed stood against the wall with a thin blanket folded neatly across it. A small table rested beside the bed, holding a chipped cup and a candle that had burned low during the night. The walls carried marks of age and repair, patched in places where wood had splintered over the years.

  It was not much of a room but it was home. Ifan stirred under the blanket. A moment later he stretched both arms high above his head and released a long yawn that sounded almost like a cat waking from a nap. The 16 year old pushed himself upright, blond hair sticking out in every direction. His soft golden hair caught the sunlight that filtered through the window. His eyes blinked slowly as he adjusted to the morning.

  Then his face lit up with a wide grin.

  “Another day,” he murmured to himself.

  He swung his legs off the bed and stood up quickly. The wooden floor creaked under his feet as he stretched once more before rubbing his face with both hands.

  The orphanage around him had already begun to wake.

  Children’s voices echoed faintly down the hallway. Someone laughed. Another child shouted something about breakfast. Ifan chuckled to himself.

  “Better get moving.”

  He stepped into the hallway wearing a loose sleeping shirt and simple trousers. The corridor of the orphanage looked worn but lived in. The wooden walls had faded from years of use. Small paintings made by the children hung crookedly in several places. A few younger kids ran past him the moment he stepped out.

  “Ifan!”

  “Morning Ifan!”

  One little boy nearly collided with him while running down the hallway. Ifan caught the child gently by the shoulders.

  “Whoa there,” he said with a bright laugh. “Where’s the fire?”

  The boy pointed excitedly toward the dining hall.

  “Breakfast!”

  Ifan placed a hand on the child’s head and ruffled his hair.

  “Well go on then. Don’t let it escape.”

  The boy ran off with the others. Ifan watched them disappear around the corner with a warm smile on his face before continuing down the hallway toward the washroom.

  The orphanage bathroom was simple and shared by everyone. A large wooden basin sat in the center of the room with several buckets of water placed nearby. The morning air carried the scent of soap and damp wood.

  Just as Ifan stepped inside, he nearly bumped into someone walking out.

  “Oh! Brother Vick!”

  The man standing in the doorway paused. Brother Vick looked to be around thirty years old, though the deep lines around his eyes suggested a harder life behind him. His dark hair was tied loosely behind his head, and faint stubble covered his jaw. His robe hung loosely over a strong frame that had clearly done years of physical labor.

  Vick glanced at Ifan for a moment. The boy was already smiling at him with bright energy.

  “Good morning!” Ifan said cheerfully.

  Vick gave a small nod.

  “You’re always this cheerful in the morning.”

  Ifan tilted his head.

  “Well yeah,” he replied easily. “It’s always a good day in Woodstock.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Vick let out a quiet chuckle at that.

  “Even in a tiny outpost town like this?”

  Ifan placed both hands on his hips proudly.

  “Of course. Someone has to enjoy it.”

  Vick shook his head slowly, amused.

  “Go wash up,” the older man said. “You still look half asleep.”

  Ifan stuck his tongue out playfully.

  “Yes sir.”

  Before Vick could respond, the boy darted past him into the washroom. The man stood in the hallway for a moment after the door closed. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he walked away.

  Inside the bathroom, Ifan hummed quietly while washing up. Cold water splashed over his face as he rubbed his hair back and scrubbed away the last bits of sleep.

  Thirty minutes later he stepped out of the room fully dressed.

  His clothing was simple; with a loose brown tunic rested over a light undershirt. Plain trousers and worn boots completed the outfit. The fabric showed signs of use but had been patched carefully many times. Ifan adjusted the collar slightly before heading down the stairs.

  The smell of food drifted through the orphanage. Breakfast was nearly finished.

  Inside the mess hall, only a few plates remained on the long wooden table. Most of the children had already eaten and rushed outside to play. Ifan walked over and sat down quietly. A small bowl of porridge waited near the end of the table along with a piece of dry bread.

  He picked up the bowl and began eating slowly. It was not much. Still, his expression stayed relaxed.

  Ifan always came in late. The younger children needed the food more than he did. They were growing. They needed the energy. He finished the bowl in a few minutes and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

  “Perfect,” he said softly.

  After returning the bowl to the kitchen area, Ifan stepped outside and crossed the courtyard toward the small chapel connected to the orphanage. The building was quiet. Sunlight filtered through colored glass windows that cast soft patterns across the wooden floor. At the front of the chapel stood Sister Lilou. She was an older woman with gentle eyes and silver hair tied neatly behind her head. Her robes were plain but well kept. Years of kindness had softened her expression.

  She turned when she heard Ifan enter.

  “Good morning, Sister Lilou.”

  Ifan gave a small wave. The woman smiled warmly.

  “Good morning, Ifan.”

  He walked up to the front of the chapel.

  “So what’s the plan today?” he asked. “Need me fixing something? Carrying wood? Chasing runaway chickens again?”

  Sister Lilou gave a quiet laugh.

  “You should take it easy today.”

  Ifan blinked.

  “Why?”

  The woman tilted her head slightly.

  “It’s your birthday.”

  Ifan froze.

  “Oh.”

  He scratched the back of his head slowly.

  “I forgot.”

  Sister Lilou studied him carefully.

  “You deserve a day to celebrate.”

  Ifan shook his head with a soft smile.

  “It’s fine, Sister. Every day is already pretty good.”

  She folded her hands together.

  “You truly believe that.”

  Ifan nodded without hesitation.

  “I get to wake up. I get to help people. I get to see everyone smile.”

  His eyes carried a gentle sincerity.

  “That’s enough for me.”

  The nun watched him quietly for a moment before sighing softly.

  “Well, even so, I still have work for you.”

  Ifan straightened immediately.

  “I’m ready.”

  “You’ll be going into town today,” she explained. “We need supplies. Brother Vick will take the wagon.”

  Ifan nodded eagerly.

  “Got it.”

  As he turned to leave, Sister Lilou called after him.

  “Ifan.”

  He stopped and looked back.

  The nun held out a small wrapped pastry.

  “Take this.”

  Ifan’s eyes widened instantly.

  “For me?”

  “Yes.”

  He stared at it with clear temptation.

  “Are you sure?”

  Sister Lilou nodded.

  “You help this orphanage as much as any of us.”

  Ifan accepted the pastry with both hands.

  “Thank you!”

  His grin returned in full force. Moments later he hurried outside toward the front gate. The morning air was warm and gentle. Sunlight stretched across the open fields surrounding the small settlement of Woodstock. The quiet town rested at the far edge of Zandria where farmland slowly faded into wild countryside.

  A wagon waited near the road with one horse stood calmly beside it. Ifan walked up and placed a hand on the animal’s neck.

  “Morning,” he said softly.

  The horse snorted quietly. Ifan leaned against the wagon wheel while waiting. He hummed to himself while watching the peaceful town begin its day. For a moment, the world felt calm. Warm sunlight. Soft wind. The sound of distant laughter from the orphanage behind him.

  Ifan smiled to himself.

  “Today’s gonna be a good day.”