For all of his life, Darian had been bred for a single purpose: to serve his empire. Darian’s parents had been simple folk, mere rice farmers on the Western side of the Crown Mountains. They had come for him early one morning, as his father was starting up the combine harvester. It was the season when the rice had just the right amount of moisture to harvest and provide maximum yield, so the farm was busy with hands moving here and there, preparing for the day’s work. His mother was busy as well, cooking breakfast for everyone while carrying a sleeping Darian in a sling close to her chest.

It was then that the car came. A military vehicle: a rectangular-looking affair with a green and dark-red paint job, showing off the Aben flag’s colors. Of course, vehicles like these were never used in combat. Too flashy and not utilitarian enough to withstand battlefield stresses. No, these only carried top brass and Academy officials. As the rumble of the engine grew louder, the hands gradually stopped to look up in curiosity, until it was the only sound audible save the whispering of the wind and the distant revving of the combine.

Eventually, even that came to a stop as the car drew up to the house and the man inside got out to talk to Darian’s parents while his driver waited patiently where he was. The man was indeed, a recruiter from the Academy, as the grey uniform and lack of epaulets signified. The Courser Academy was less formal than the actual military. In exchange for funding, personnel, and equipment (such as the car), the Academy gave the military freshly graduated coursers to supplement operations and battles. These aura manipulators could turn the tide of any battle, even if only one was present on the field itself.

“How can I help you?” Darian’s father, Merl, addressed the visitor. His tone was nervous and apprehensive. Their farm wasn’t that well-known, and for a person like this to come out here in the middle of nowhere, miles away from any town, there must be some important reason. His thoughts, along with those of his wife, were those of concern. Are we in trouble? Did one of the hands commit a crime? What does the Academy want with us?

The man himself, along with the already-mentioned clothing, was a lanky man. He didn’t look like someone who had seen much combat, but it was common knowledge that every courser who made it far in life had been involved in some major battle in the past. It was rumored that some were even immortal, and could elongate their lives merely by having other people near them. So, it was with trepidation that the couple approached their visitor.

He was also solemn and his skin was an off-white, almost jaundiced color, indicating that he was probably from the southeast part of Aben. Dark hair and an ever-so-slightly prognathous jaw were also evidence as to this.

“My name is Visler, and I am from the Academy. Congratulations,” he began, sounding not particularly happy for them. “Your child has an abnormal aura, indicating that he has innate talent to become a courser.” His tone was dry and official, but not unkind. He had done this to innumerable families over the years, taking their children to become what were essentially super-soldiers. At first, he had tried to be and sound sympathetic, but he found that he only felt the pain and sorrow of the parents so suddenly deprived of their children. So, as time went on, he had purposefully deadened himself to their pleas and become desensitized to them. However, that didn’t make him a cruel person in general, so he liked to think.

The reaction from these two was one he didn’t often get: acceptance. They stood there, the man nodding reluctantly for him to continue. Were they so willing to give up their child like that? Pushing these thoughts away, he began going over the usual conditions.

“You will be given compensation according to the law. Of course, your child will be allowed regular visits, though the large majority of his time will be spent at the Academy. In the unlikely case that he should be killed in combat, you will receive immediate notification and a further increase in compensation. I know that his may be difficult for you,” he continued, “but know that your child will become one of Aben’s greatest heroes.”

With that, he would stop talking, looking with expectant, beady eyes at the couple. The woman simply stepped forward and handed the child to him. Visler looked surprised as he slowly took the sleeping infant into his arms. Never in all his years had a child been given to him so easily, with such little sadness.

“Uhrm… Goodwoman...” he began, his composure breaking slightly, “why do you hand him over so readily?”

She merely looked at him with a resigned expression on her face.

“We knew you would be coming eventually, sir.” Her tone wasn’t even angry, but rather, calm and collected. “We knew he was special… even though he’s only a babe, he can do things no other child can. I dropped a knife… and he stopped it from falling onto my foot. Take him; it’s what’s best.”

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Visler nodded, understanding. Still, this was a strange couple.

“What is his name?”

“Darian. Darian Merlson.”

He bowed slightly, and handed the baby to the driver, who began buckling him into the infant car seat in the back of the vehicle. They had two, in case there were twins. For whatever reason, if one twin had an aura, so did the other. It was one of the mysteries of courser children, and no one had managed to figure out why it was so.

“Very well, Goodwoman. Anything else I should know before I take my leave?”

She thought for a second, then spoke.

“He’s allergic to shellfish. Don’t feed him shellfish.”

Visler grinned slightly, his first genuine smile in a long time.

“Very well. Thank you both very much. The first portion of your compensation will arrive tomorrow afternoon. Farewell.”

With that, he climbed into the car. “Take us back to the academy.” The driver nodded without a word, and they sped away from the rice farm, without even a glance back at the other two.

“Odd couple.” Visler spoke to no one in particular, his mind wandering slightly. He turned his head to look back at the chubby, sleeping child. Hmm… didn’t appear to have any external physical defects. The Academy could certainly make something of this one, given enough time and effort. Every young student there was a great investment of both military and government funds, so naturally, excellence was expected.

The car turned onto a main highway, and headed southwest, away from the Crown Mountains and toward the Aben’s capital, Adhon. This grand city contained the world’s only Courser Academy, which more than prepared these gifted youngsters with the knowledge and ability to assist Aben’s soldiers in the seemingly never-ending war against the other two great nations Segate and Reve. Considering how objectively superior their own coursers were, Visler wondered why they hadn’t won the war yet.

Sure, the other sides had coursers too, but no facilities to train them with. He hadn’t been on the front lines in ages, but he had heard that Segate, at the very least, had developed more advanced weaponry than Aben’s.

He shrugged these thoughts away. No matter what, he mused, he must not even consider defeat to be an option. Year after year, the Academy improved its curriculum and techniques, and each graduating class was better than the last. At this rate, there would be no defeat for them.

In a few hours, they reached Adhon. Naturally, they ran into midday traffic, but a few minutes of further waiting didn’t matter to Visler and his impassive driver. Darian had woken up, but remained quiet, even among the chaos and cacophony of the city. That’s a good sign, Visler thought. The boy knows he’s in control.

After reaching the inner city, they pulled into the academy driveway.

Visler gave his thanks to the driver, who tipped his hat and went to park the car after the recruiter took the baby inside. He gave Darian over to child care, who would raise him for the next five years of his life. When he was six, he would be entered into the Academy proper, where he would learn lessons like any normal child until he turned fourteen.

At that age, the Academy added extra classes. Combat training, aura manipulation training, and so on. It could be considered a high school, perhaps. A high school for the supernaturally talented.

Grow up, be strong. Visler thought, as he left the building. These were well-wishes he sent to every child he dropped off. With any luck, this one would be as much of a success as he hoped for.

***

“Have you disposed of the thieves’ bodies?”

The man sat in a chair while a night watchman stood before him.

“Yes, my lord. Needless to say, I am delighted to witness your return. My family has faithfully guarded this mansion for generations.”

The man in the chair had now donned a mask. It was an egg-white-colored mask, with two eye-slits and a dark, accented vertical line bifurcating it vertically. It was a design used at costume parties, where those who wore it belonged to a generation who had forgotten its original wearer.

The Masked Man spoke, his voice quiet yet powerful.

“Gather the others. Ensure you have enough people to power their auras and awaken them. When you have found the remainder of my servants, return to me. Then, I will give you the world we desire so much.”    

"Yes, my lord."