21 - Flarehound’s Bow

Valrion grabbed the bow, wrapping his hands around it. His fingers brushed its smooth, pale surface. Its body had an almost ghostly white hue, and it was cool to the touch, sending a faint chill through his fingers. He could immediately tell this wasn’t made of wood but of bone.

Its frame was thin—so delicate in appearance that it seemed it might snap if mishandled. Yet, when he tested its resilience with a light twist of his grip, the material proved sturdy. It was heavier than expected. He could imagine it causing serious injury if used to strike someone. Of course, that wasn’t what it was meant for.

His gaze shifted to the gloves that had been dropped onto the floor near Sergius’s feet and the bundle of matching arrows Sergius held. Their shafts shared the same bone-like composition as the bow, creating a cohesive, albeit eerie, look. Bringing back his focus to the weapon in his hands, he traced its length with two fingers, inspecting it thoroughly.

There were no carvings or engravings—nothing to hint at the maker’s identity. It would have carried their distinctive signature if it had been forged in his family’s workshop. Then again, Sergius might have specifically requested a plain design, or perhaps it had been made elsewhere.

“Valrion.”

Sergius’s voice pulled him back to the room. He looked up to see the man watching him—a grin on his face was a mix of pride and joy. Behind him, Octavia and Fina stood with their arms crossed, wearing similar expressions as if they had just handed him the most precious crown.

“Yes?” Valrion replied.

“Are you scared?” Sergius asked.

Valrion went still for a moment before shaking his head. Sergius must have thought the fact that the bow was made of bones had bothered him.

Sergius chuckled. “They’re made from the bones of flarehounds. Maybe one day, you’ll slay one yourself and earn us a fortune.”

Flarehounds.

They were monstrous, wolf-like beasts that prowled the wastelands of Eru. Their ember-like fur constantly smoldered, sending wisps of smoke into the air. Their glowing orange eyes cut through the haze of ash and smoke with a predatory intensity. Valrion had never encountered them himself, but he knew their arrival would be hinted at by their howls—ominous crackles that sounded like fire devouring dry wood.

Mortal hunters often spoke of the scorched trails flarehounds left behind. As hauting as they seemed, they didn’t merely kill their prey—they incinerated it. A single exhale of their breath unleashed a blast of concentrated fire, reducing their enemies to ash in a flash. Even worse, they always hunted in groups where they would coordinate to form rings of flames, cutting off all avenues of escape.

Their bones were highly valued for crafting materials designed to withstand intense heat. Once ignited, they burned steadily, needing neither fuel nor maintenance. Fortunately, everything has its own strengths and weaknesses, so the flames could be extinguished with water.

Valrion couldn’t help but wonder how much money his mother and the workers had spent on procuring this set of bow and arrows.

“So, do you like the gift?” Sergius asked another question.

Valrion’s fingers tightened around the bow as he met Sergius’ eyes. How should he answer that?

This bow’s craftsmanship was remarkable. It was a fine weapon, meticulously made, but it didn’t feel natural in his hands. The reason was simple: bows had never been his weapon of choice.

Most gods could summon weapons from thin air, including Valrion. Those who hadn’t yet mastered this skill, typically the younger ones, turned to blacksmiths for assistance. They weren’t shaped from mortal materials like wood or steel but were forged entirely from pure divine essence.

Valrion had always preferred spears. They were straightforward and efficient, requiring little more than strength to make a clean, decisive strike. Bows, on the other hand, demanded precision, patience, and careful aim—qualities he found tedious in the heat of battle. By the time he adjusted his stance, drew the string, and lined up a shot, an enemy could already have closed the distance and struck him in the head.

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If spears weren’t available, he would have opted for swords. While they lacked the reach of a spear, they were still far superior to the cumbersome requirements of a bow. With a sword, he could engage his opponent head-on, relying on instinct and movement rather than painstaking calculation. Decisiveness was a trait he valued above all else in combat.

“Yes,” Valrion said at last. “Thank you.”

“Good boy.” Sergius’ smile widened as he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “Now, this is our little secret, okay? Just between us and your mama. Don’t tell your papa. Starting tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to use the bow. You get it?”

“Why can’t I tell Papa?” Valrion asked, the words slipping out before he could think about it.

Sergius raised an eyebrow, looking a bit surprised. “Why? Well, because we want you to learn how to protect yourself, but your papa thinks you should always stay home. That’s not fun, right? So, just keep this between us, okay?”

Valrion pressed his lips together, turning over Sergius’ words. It wasn’t unusual for Eruvians to teach three-year-olds how to wield a bow—some even started as young as two. Swords, however, were introduced later, likely because close combat carried a higher risk of injury.

The real issue wasn’t the practice itself but his father’s consent. His father hadn’t brought it up since the night of the Aptitude Test—nearly three years ago—but Valrion still remembered the heated exchange with Firmus and unwavering stance: he was not to fight.

Even now, he didn’t fully understand his father or what drove his strict decisions. All he knew was there must be a solid reason behind them. With his mother and the others on one side, that made four against one, but was it really okay to go against his father’s wishes? Was his demand so irrelevant?

“He will be mad,” Valrion said, lifting the bow slightly. What he really wanted to say was, Man, are you sure about this? My father runs this house and pays all of you. What if you get fired over this?

Sergius laughed. “What a clever kid, but don’t worry about your papa. We’ve got it covered.”

Octavia sighed and stepped forward, lowering herself to the floor beside Sergius. Her expression softened as she gently took one of Valrion’s hands in hers. “Listen. Your father doesn’t think you’re ready, but we do. You’re stronger than he realizes. Isn’t it good to know you can protect yourself?”

Valrion stayed silent, his gaze fixed on her face. He searched for clues, hints of something hidden behind her words. He wanted to believe she was being honest, but seeing how things had been with her, he wouldn’t have been surprised if there was more she wasn’t telling him.

“I’ll keep this safe for now,” Octavia said, taking the bow off his hands. She turned to Sergius and took the arrows and the gloves. “Tomorrow, when you start practicing, I’ll give it back.”

She stood and headed into the dining room. The creak of a cupboard opening and closing carried through the silence. Her footsteps echoed as she walked back, and soon enough, Fina stretched with an exaggerated yawn, her movements slow and drawn out.

“Okay, that’s enough excitement for one night.” She loosened her arms and straightened her back. “Good night, everyone. See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’m heading out too,” Sergius said, ruffling Valrion’s hair before standing. “Sleep well, V. We’ll practice after your breakfast, okay?”

“Okay,” Valrion said.

As the others left the kitchen, Octavia picked him up and placed him in his cradle. She nestled him under the covers before walking away. The routine hadn’t changed. She would change into her nightgown and return a few minutes later. Afterward, she would settle onto the bed across from him and pull the blanket up, snuggling into its warmth.

For a while, calm reigned. Valrion stared at the ceiling, thoughts spinning in a chaotic haze. The bow, the arrows, the secrecy from his father—it all weighed on him more than he cared to admit.

Octavia shifted in her bed, breaking the stillness. Her voice was soft when she murmured, “You looked so excited holding that bow, Valrion. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you grew up to become a fire summoner one day and made a difference for our people? You might actually have a chance, considering the Fire Eidolon belongs to our kingdom.”

Valrion stiffened, his breath catching in his throat.

[Main Quest updated: Capture the Twelve Eidolons]

[EXP +25]

[Capture the Twelve Eidolons (0/12)

➤ You learned that the Fire Eidolon exists within your kingdom and is owned by the kingdom itself. Discover what Octavia means by this.]

Valrion’s heart pounded with excitement. A shiver ran down his spine, and he barely resisted the urge to kick his legs, roll around, or squeal.

The Handbook never recorded information that wasn’t true or necessary. A summoner? Was it different from evokers? The Fire Eidolon belonging to the kingdom—why did it sound so menacing?

“What’s a summoner?” Valrion asked, turning his head to look at the maid.

“A summoner, hmm? They’re, uh, chosen evokers. They make pacts with the eidolons,” she replied, voice heavy with exhaustion. “Summoners summon the eidolons.”

Her explanation was far too vague for his liking, so he frowned. Eidolons, as he understood them, were creatures of immense pride. Why would beings like them need to be bound to humans and summoned?

“What do you mean?” he urged, but Octavia’s eyes were already closed. Her breathing was deep and steady—she had fallen asleep.

She always drifted off quickly, but did it have to be now, just as the conversation was getting interesting?

“Octavia?” he tried again, but there was no response.

Frustration simmered within him. The rest of the conversation would have to wait until morning, and the delay gnawed at him. He could have kept calling her name, but it had been a long day for both of them. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb her further.

Still, he couldn’t deny the spark of excitement that grew in his chest.

Finally, he thought. Finally, I have a lead on the Twelve Eidolons.