“Atheria is our kingdom, and also what we call the continent. Ether is the energy that surrounds us. It’s like a force of everything, and it can be manipulated with enough training. I only understand it from a perspective of strengthening the body, but its applications are limitless. For example…”

"Strengthening the body, hmm..." Aren murmured, his voice curious as he cut Theron off again. "Well, that's all fascinating," he said, clapping his hands against his legs with a resounding smack. "But I think it's time for us to go," his impatience for the adventures this world held, and lack of tolerance for conversation, clearly inherited from Arthur, rising to the surface. He now knows who he is, and where he is; nothing more to talk about now.

“Um…of course! We need to buy you some clothes, you are still in your pajamas...” Theron was completely thrown off by this new attitude of his young master, but he chalked it up to the amnesia. “I’ll run to a merchant nearby and find something suitable for you. Wait here!” Theron leaped off the bed, and with his empty pint in hand, rushed down the stairs.

Though Aren was not keen on continuing the dialogue, the mention of Ether intrigued him deeply. Perhaps with its help, he could become powerful despite his weak body. He quickly finished his drink and, deciding he didn’t want to wait for Theron, went to explore the tavern. He exited the room and descended the creaking staircase. On the first floor, the bar was directly opposite the exit, accompanied by round tables and chairs, all crafted from rather rough-hewn wood, suggesting the village didn’t have a particularly skilled carpenter. It was still early, and only a handful of people were present, yet all eight of them turned their attention to the tall, pajama-clad youth. Aren made his way towards the bar, his entrance silencing the room. Such a guest was certainly an oddity. He saw some people having breakfast, and a sudden pang of hunger made itself known.

“Do you serve food here?” Aren asked in a grumbling tone.

“We do,” the old man behind the counter replied, mirroring Aren’s tone.

“Give me whatever is ready.”

The man behind the bar, a plump man in his fifties with unkempt stubble and disheveled hair, clearly disliked the disrespectful attitude of the young boy. But he knew that Theron was with him and Theron had coin. He went into the room behind the bar and returned with a plate piled high with four fried eggs. He slammed the plate in front of Aren, the clatter loud enough to make his annoyance quite clear. But the young man ignored him and began eating, carefully mimicking the way others used their utensils.

Not far from the counter, an old man of about 55 years, slightly intoxicated, and clearly the local drunk, stared at Aren as if he were some strange creature in a zoo. Aren sensed the gaze and turned to meet his eyes. They stared at each other, a silent exchange of disrespect. The patron had never encountered such a brazen youth. What's this brat looking at? both of them thought simultaneously. Arthur’s soul was looking down on everyone, a sentiment Aren couldn't quite understand, yet felt acutely.

"I asked you to stay in the room!" Theron's exasperated voice broke the tense silence, diffusing the brewing conflict between Aren and the drunkard. "I brought you some clothes and supplies for our journey."

Aren, nearly finished with his meal, simply nodded.

Theron paid for the breakfast and added a generous tip for the room. The barkeep's scowl melted into a wide smile, the boy's earlier rudeness forgotten. They returned to their room. Theron donned his armor and buckled his sword, while Aren changed into the simple clothes Theron had procured – a grey long-sleeved tunic, brown trousers, and sturdy boots. The attire was hardly befitting a Count's son, but it would have to do.

Once they were ready, Theron announced, "We are heading to Stormborn Castle, to your father's closest friend, Darius Stormborn, Duke of this Dominion! We have to report the incident as soon as possible."

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"And how far is this castle?" Aren inquired.

"We're traveling light, without a carriage, so I think we'll manage it in two or three days," Theron replied.

"Then let's go."

Finally, Aren would begin to understand this new world. He was filled with anticipation, eager to embark on this journey, learn more about Ether, and test his own abilities.

They left the tavern and stepped onto the village's main street, lined with modest homes. The ground was packed earth, crisscrossed with tracks from people, horses, and carts.

"Let's retrieve Ajax from the stables; he's been waiting," Theron said, leading the way.

The stables were at the edge of the village, at the end of the main street. The villagers they passed regarded Theron and Aren with curiosity, noble visitors being an infrequent occurrence. No one seemed hostile, however. Though they lived simply, they appeared content. Aren formed a positive impression of the Stormborn Dominion; even this small, seemingly poor village seemed to thrive. Though this village technically belonged to him now, as the last Stillbrook, he had no ambitions in that regard. His only interest was becoming stronger and understanding this world. He wanted to ask Theron more about Ether, whether the shimmering aura he'd seen in battle was indeed Ether, but Aren was not a morning person. He’d had enough conversation for one half of a day; he would ask later.

They reached the stables quickly. Ajax, seeing his master, whinnied a greeting. During their escape, Aren hadn't had time to appreciate the stallion’s magnificent physique. The morning sun shimmered on his black coat, highlighting his powerful muscles. He was an imposing creature, large enough to carry three men comfortably. Theron thanked the stablehand and paid for Ajax's food and lodging.

Theron approached the stallion, stroking his mane affectionately. The animal pawed the ground impatiently, eager to be on the move.

"Young Master, I presume you've also forgotten how to mount a horse?" Theron asked, his voice deep and resonant.

Aren nodded.

Theron approached the powerful stallion and patted his neck. “First,” he instructed, “you need to calm the horse. Speak to him softly.” He demonstrated, stroking the horse gently, before briskly moving to the next step.

“One hand on the saddle, the other on the mane,” he explained. “Don't grip the mane, just rest your hand and press down. This helps you maintain your balance as you pull yourself up.” He demonstrated the grip, then gracefully placed his foot in the stirrup, swung his other leg over the horse’s back, and landed lightly in the saddle.

“Like that,” he said, straightening in the saddle. “Now, instead of the mane, I will give you a hand.” He looked at Aren with a slight grin, awaiting his attempt.

Damn, and I have to jump with this injured hand? Aren thought, but he accepted the challenge. His new personality wouldn't allow otherwise. He approached Ajax, clumsily placed his foot in the stirrup, grasped Theron’s outstretched hand, and swung his other leg over. It was surprisingly easy. He could move quite well in this body, despite its weakness and unfamiliar feel.

"You did well," Theron observed. "Perhaps your body still remembers my lessons." The guard was pleased and proud of his pupil. He was still adjusting to Aren's changed personality, but his affection for the boy remained unchanged. "Forward, Ajax!" he called.

The stallion surged forward like a released arrow. Aren nearly lost his grip, but managed to cling to Theron.

Theron laughed heartily. Riding was clearly one of his greatest joys.

The wind whistled past Aren's ears as the scent of pine grew stronger. He hadn't yet found a comfortable position at this speed when they entered the forest, the village vanishing from sight. The horse navigated the forest paths with practiced ease, gracefully dodging and leaping over obstacles. The forest was dense and teeming with life. Aren glanced around, spotting various animals that seemed unconcerned by their presence. Theron was saying something, but Aren couldn't hear him over the wind. This horse must wield Ether to be this fast!

After several hours, they emerged from the forest, a new vista opening before them: green fields and rolling hills, a narrow river spanned by a stone bridge. In the distance, another village, about the same size as the last, but with stone houses, suggesting a community of craftspeople. Their path, however, led them away from this settlement. Ajax continued at his brisk pace towards the river, not even slowing as they approached. He launched himself over the water in a powerful leap. Aren, unprepared, was momentarily airborne, clinging desperately to Theron. What about that oath to protect me? I nearly fell into the river! he thought, as Theron roared with laughter again.

After hours of riding across the fields, Theron pulled on the reins, bringing Ajax to a halt.

“We’ll make camp here,” he announced. “This is a good spot.”

The location was indeed ideal. Positioned on a hill at the edge of another dense forest, they could sit by a large rock, offering a clear view of the surrounding landscape while being sheltered by the trees.