Alesin knelt by the campfire, the warmth of the flames a familiar comfort out here in the woods. Unlike her more adventurous husband, she was not much for the outdoors, especially a long journey like the one they were currently on escorting Lord Klarion to the nearest settlement where he might use the portal checkpoint to get to the Imperial Academy. No, like many Sun Elves, she much preferred the libraries and the books of Imperial cities.
But when the House Blacksword commanded, those sworn to it obeyed.
She set up the small cooking pot she carried in her spatial ring. While most of everything they had with them was in the packs they carried, there were some things, like the cooking pot, that were a bit awkward to pack away in that way. And she loved that little cooking pot.
Using her Essence of Fire, she swiftly chopped vegetables and some preserved meat to add to tonight’s stew. So used to cooking on the trail was she, Alesin was able to put all her focus elsewhere, leaving the preparation to muscle memory.
While her keen senses were attuned to the quiet evening around them, her thoughts returned back to Klarion. He now sat a little ways off, listening as Rolfun explained to him how they would be working on his Endurance and Vitality stats, completely unaware of the scrutiny he was under.
There was something different about the young man, something she hadn’t expected from someone of such high noble birth. In all her years serving in the Empire, first alone then alongside her husband, she had met more than her fair share of nobles. Most were arrogant, demanding, and carried themselves with an air of superiority that grated on her nerves. Even the weakest, most self-serving of them expected to be waited on, their birthright their only claim to importance.
Even though he had been exiled from his family to an Unintegrated World his entire life, Alesin had expected him to quickly adopt the general mien of a nobleman as soon as he was Integrated into the System and found out the truth of his background.
But he had surprised both her and her husband.
Klarion was different. He didn’t speak to them as if they were beneath him. He didn’t issue orders or expect undeserved special treatment. In fact, contrary to what she would have expected, Klarion seemed more introspective about everything he had been exposed to the past few days. In fact, if it weren’t for the scars that covered his body, she might’ve expected him for a common peasant woefully unaware of the wider Empire. That, combined with the resolve she sensed within him, made him far more dangerous than any boastful, new lord. He just didn’t know it yet.
She glanced over at him again, a slight smile coming to her lips as she noticed Klarion opting to more firmly grip the orb her husband had handed him. Most that she had seen work on their Endurance and Vitality in this way chose to hold it loosely in one hand, thereby making it easier to drop once they reached the limit of what they could endure. Not so with Klarion.
Her eyes rose from his clasped hands to his face. Klarion’s eyes were now closed as he focused on his task. The faint glint of firelight showed the raised, silvered marks across his skin. Those scars told quite a story, of a battle to the death that was barely survived, all before he had even been Initiated into the System, let alone before he had a Class. They were the only visible clue he hadn’t been living some quiet life somewhere. Alesin, nor Rolfun, had both been quietly shocked when Klarion had shared how he had received them. Alesin was a sad about that, as they were inflicted on him prior to being Integrated into the System, and as such they would require some high level healing magic before they would even begin to fade away. And even that might not work. Certain scars went deeper than skin deep, lingering on longer than would otherwise be the case. Her eyes pivoted to the strong back of her husband, tracing the locations of the scars that lingered there, under his clothes. She herself had found that she was drawn to those with scars like that.
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Alesin turned back to her cooking. Hopefully, this escort mission would be a lot more pleasant than what they had been worried about. Her smile deepened when she thought about the leave they would get to enjoy once they were back in Noresyn. Pleasant thoughts kept her occupied while cooking until her husband suddenly loomed behind her.
“You need to see this,” Rolfun said to her quietly. His normally sturdy presence was tight with tension.
“What is it?” Alesin asked, her senses immediately focusing on their surroundings for a potential threat. Her eyes went to Rolfun to see what he was focusing on. Rather than the border of their campsite, his eyes were fixed upon Klarion. Still sitting on the ground, his hands were white with how hard they gripped the sphere.
“Oh, he still is still able to hold the orb a few minutes in? That is a bit impressive but not a cause for alarm, Rolfun.”
Rolfun breathed a short laugh filled with tension. “My love, you were focused on your cooking again. Klarion has not been holding that sphere for a few minutes.” His broad shoulders tensed as he continued staring at Klarion. “It has been almost an hour.”
Alesin’s breath caught at Rolfun’s words. Almost an hour? Her pulse quickened as she turned her full attention to the young lord, the pain-inflicting sphere still held tight in his grip. She had expected that he might be able to do a few minutes given what he had gone through over the past few days, and the illness that he had mentioned from his youth, but this was extreme. She had known young nobles in the House Blacksword with high willpower, but nearly an hour of sustained pain that gradually increased… It was unheard of. Most nobles of the Empire, when first exposed to training like this, would last less than a minute before surrendering. Those that had seen fighting already prior to using the orb could usually last a few minutes before giving up. A mix of awe and unease settled over her, as her mind raced at the implications. Who exactly was this young man!?
“Klarion has not made a sound since he started. Not even a whimper.” Rolfun interrupted her train of thought.
Alesin exchanged another wide-eyed glance with Rolfun. The half-ogre, who had seen many legionnaires under the banners of House Blacksword go through trials like this, seemed visibly shaken; his jaw clenched with his own disbelief.
Before Alesin could make a comment, a deep sigh came from Klarion. The young lord’s eyes were still closed, but the tension that had held his body had now disappeared. Leaning forward, he set the sphere down in the grass without ceremony.
The previously black sphere was now so clear you could see the blades of grass on the other side of where it had come to rest.
Alesin blinked, her mind continuing to race. How had someone so seemingly untrained, largely unaware of his lineage, and only freshly exposed to the System itself, surpassed even the most hardened of nobles?
“What’s next?”
When Klarion abruptly spoke, both of his escorts started. Their eyes rose from where they had been locked on the changed sphere to the still somewhat pale face of the young lord. Alesin struggled to find the words, but it was Rolfun who found his voice first.
“Next?” Rolfun did a good job covering up his disquiet, though Alesin could tell it was still there. “Why, dinner of course! Alesin, is the food ready?”
“Wonderful!” Klarion said, pushing himself slowly to his feet. He swayed once but kept his balance after that. “For some reason, I am feeling a bit hungry.”
“It’s a good thing then that I made an extra large amount of my famous Traveler’s Stew. Come grab a bowl and we’ll give you a breakdown of our thoughts about your training.”
While Klarion made his way over with a confident stride, Alesin couldn’t help that her gaze briefly latched once more on the changed sphere. Just who were they escorting to the Imperial Academy?