Eathel could not complain about his day, it was still terrible but he was too exhausted to do anything he was not even able to listen to Assers rambling anymore. A week had passed in a haze, there was no downtime he could use for himself, he was either fighting or learning or eating or sleeping, every day in the same rhythm. Finally he heard the bell announcing dinner.

Eathel and Edmure went together, walking like automatons not paying attention to anything except their way to the evening meal. Ed apologized for running into a servant going in the opposite direction. As they entered the meal hall they split up, Ed to his servants table where he would learn about the newest happenings and gossip from around the castle. Eathel went to his customary place on his fathers right side.

For three days the whole castle was buzzling from activity. Uninhabited t rooms were dusted, the floors were swept, lightstones recharged, only needing a person with magical potential to hold them long enough. Eathel could not be bothered to remember why the Last was in such turmoil.

He followed all the correct table manners, although he did it in silence, eathel held his fork the way mother had taught him how it was done in the royal capital. A few of the older dignitaries at the lord's table still had problems with that relatively new fashion. He ate in a mannered fashion not to fast, paying attention not to drop any food and so on all in order to not be the victim of his fathers threat.

He ate in his automatic fashion when his father told Eathel that he and Alfred, and Brayden, Edmure's father, together with a company of soldiers would go into Astavon to make sure everything was in order for the rejuvenation festival. Eathel could only nod, not quite knowing how that would affect him until

“Please Father I can not survive a whole day of Assers lectures, i would rather fight alone against a whole cohort of Baremen,” Eathel said in a hushed tone, it would have been unnoble like to talk so disrespectful about a teacher, and he did know how important his image would be.

Eathelred father chuckled, he seemed to be in a good mood, he always enjoyed the festival, even more when he is the one hosting. “No, he finds them as tedious as you do, no you will have a morning for yourself.” If looks could kill, Eathel would at least be petrified. “If you ever, and I mean ever want such freedom again, you will not needlessly endanger your life.”

Eathel had been lucky that his father had not seen how much the celebrations would strain their already bad finances.

The boy went to his bedchamber still oblivious to much outside his own world, but he had at least a tiny sliver of something other than indifference. As soon as he changed and laid down, sleep hit him.

He did not even dream, he just awoke when Ed came to wake him up. Edmure's face almost never showed as much relief as when he heard that they would not train this morning, still tired they ate their breakfast.

Eathel and his friend had spent nearly every waking moment with each other the last week, so they decided that they would spend their time separate.

Edmure went to the library, which is a generous term for a room which holds only around 200 books, most of them too old to just casually use. There he read a story of an adventuring knight who sought refuge in the castle of a villainous magician.

Eathel now without purpose decided to seek peace and quiet not in the pages of a book but in the majesty of nature. He went to the place where he often saw his mother admiring the surroundings, she was from another of the Islands, the daughter of a rich merchant. Eathel remembered how she would alway talk, with a longing gaze about the gardens of her home.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Did they ever love each other? Father fractured his relationship with uncle, just to marry her.

He also remembered how his parents were often tense around each other. He had finally arrived atop the castle walls, he looked down from the crenellations into the distance.

The snow was already melting, some places a few blades of grass pierced through the white blanket, trees who had lost their green plumage during the winter started to regrow their leaves. Some birds decided to come back from the south, and few animals awoke from their long sleep.

Eathel took it all in, together with the blue sky and the shining sun he started to finally relax, his body lost its superfluous tension.

He took deep breaths tasting the late winter air. His nose took in the smell of change, his ears captured the summing of early insects who probably will not survive the scarce food and rummaging bird. Their chirps rang through the windless air.

Ever since Eathel was awoken by his father, his eyesight had improved vastly outpacing most anyone mundane. He strained his eyes and in the distance he could see the foothills of the green mountains.

Looking into the sky the moon was still visible, just then a tiny white speck flew across the firmament.

It was too large to be any bird he knew.

Instinctively he drew his sword, it felt more familiar in his hand now than ever before. He could feel it as an extension of himself, he was overcome by a deep satisfaction as well as a closeness to nature he previously could not imagine existed.

If anyone had observed his face they would have noticed his eyes shining in a low light. This all is mine, mine to protect, and mine to lead one day. A day hopefully far in the future.

Suddenly during his profound experience of nature a sense of wrongness spread from his right hand over his arm than his shoulder, finally from his torso it made way into any part of his body. Still the strange itching was strongest just below his hand. Taken out of his meditative state his connection to something greater, something deeper receded just leaving a stronger heart behind.

As his connection. did also the itch, only that it stayed on his arm, not nearly as agonizing as it once was. He pushed away the armband of his father so he could better scratch his irritated skin, only to make it worse and increase its area.

Eathel looked up in the sky remembering the high he just had and wondering how it happened, he had not eaten one of the mushrooms the herbology book warns against. He noticed the sun had made great strides on its daily voyage. He could not tell how much time had passed, he had still a few hours before she would reach her zenith.

He did not change much except for his eyes which grew lighter.

He made his way to the library, evading the various servants, so he would not waste more precious moments. He arrived in a room with a high shelf only half of which were filled with books, most had been sold over the years to keep the household afloat. He already had read all the books on magic that they possessed but still he looked through them just in case. He was sitting on a comfortable padded armchair. He was engrossed in his reading that he had not noticed that Edmure had placed lunch next to him.

The only reference he found was in one of the oldest books they still possessed, On magic was a thick tome leatherbound well cared for. In the passage was written.

“When the ancient enemies strengthened their powers, it was said that they went into a catatonic state, it was wisest to attack them during their experience, for they could not break out even if they wanted.” I can always ask medicus Asser. He probably will act a bit strange again.

Eathel was too engrossed in reading the books. He came to the realization that he had no idea what time it was, he handled the books meticulously and put them back where he had gotten them.

He ran to the lonely tower, he slowed to a more dignified pace when he heard people approaching. He found the experience strange; he always thought they were closer than it was. Now even the words whispered the quietest from man to man could not escape him.

After a short while he reached his destination, he climbed all the steps but when he tried to open the last door, it would not butch not even a finger.