Following the strategy meeting, Ars and Orianna were listening to Primis's report regarding William.
"You're certain?" asked Ars, frowning at the news that his son's Mana and Aura pathways weren't developing as they should be.
Nodding in affirmation, Primis explained, "Ordinarily, a person's Mana and Aura pathways expand and become more saturated with age, particularly during their developmental years. When I inspected him earlier, William's were the same now as when he was born."
"What can be done...?" asked Orianna, her expression serious and amber eyes glowing as she clenched her jaw. She knew William's Mana and Aura were lacking for someone of his age and descent, but if they were fixed at their current levels, his future would be exceptionally difficult.
"Hmmm...that's a difficult question to answer without knowing the reason for his stagnant development," answered Primis, cupping her chin as she explained, "Ordinarily, this kind of thing only happens when someone has sustained an injury to their Font of Life, crippling their development. That isn't the case with your son, however. Rather, he is 'significantly' healthier than the average child..."
"What do you mean...?" asked Ars, raising his right brow.
"I'm referring to his Vital Essence," explained Primis. "From what I can tell, your son's physique, or, at the very least, his resistance, is comparable to a Third-Grade Warrior using Aura."
Blinking and raising her brows in surprise, Orianna asked, "You're saying a boy fewer than six cycles possesses the strength to rival a Knight...?"
"If nothing else, he possesses an equivalent resistance to foreign Mana," responded Primis. "I had to concentrate and exert myself quite a bit when I probed his body and mind with Detection and Dispulsion Magic."
"And you believe this is related to his limited Mana and Aura?" asked Ars, his interest piqued.
Nodding in affirmation, Primis contended, "There is a possibility he has a rare, perhaps even never-before-seen trait. I would need to perform a far more...invasive examination to be certain."
"Forget it," said Orianna, crossing her arms and frowning as she stated, "I won't have my son made into a subject of observation or experimentation. He's nearing the age where he will want to develop autonomy. We should allow him to figure things out on his own. The rest can be taken care of by his instructors."
"Hmmm..."
Though he empathized with what his wife was saying, Ars felt it would be irresponsible if they simply let things be. However, as the situation in their territory had become increasingly dire since his Grandfather's era, he also felt it could be 'advantageous' to leave things as they were. After all, even if they did their best to limit the flow of information, the more they learned of their son's power, the more others would hear of it. Then, there was the matter of David, his eldest son...
Shaking his head, Ars met his wife's gaze and stated, "William will need special training and careful guidance to prepare him for life at the Royal Academy. I will write to Grandmaster Kristoff of the Warrior's College and have them dispatch someone of the Sixth Grade or higher."
"You wish to commission a Master as our son's personal tutor...?" asked Orianna, staring at her husband with her mouth slightly agape.
"I also wish to increase the security of the castle as a whole," stated Ars. "I trust your capabilities, but the castle has too many wayward eyes and ears. If William is perceived to be a threat, he could be removed by those who would see our family brought to ruin..."
"How will having him train under a Master make people see him as less of a threat...?" asked Orianna.
"It's a pretense," answered Ars, his expression gentle and tone patient as he explained, "If he were simply powerful without rationale, people would fear, ostracize, and attempt to eliminate him to ease their anxieties. If his power results from training under a Master, however, the majority of those sentiments will be converted to envy."
"Weaponized nepotism," mused Primis, finding her Lord's scheme rather amusing. She was disappointed that she couldn't study William's unique physiology, but as she wasn't especially fond of dealing with children, it wasn't something she would lose sleep over.
"I see..." muttered Orianna. She still sported a conflicted frown, but as it was infinitely better for people to be jealous of William than fearful of him, she believed her husband's determination was correct. Her concern then became which Master would appear. Only twenty-one living warriors held the esteemed title, and the majority were known for possessing relatively colorful or eccentric personalities. After all, one didn't simply stumble into the position of Master. It required genuine obsession, so by the time most people reached it, they had long since forsaken, or perhaps transcended common sense...
...
..
.
[Three Weeks Later]
Far from the domain of House Oirthear, an uncharacteristically short, white-haired Elf sat alone amid a destroyed forest and a sea of monster corpses. Ordinarily, Elves had long, sleek hair resembling threads of gold or green silk. They also adorned themselves in elegant, often form-fitting clothes, so the lonesome white-haired Elf looked particularly out of place as their somewhat matted hair fluttered gently with the breeze, their lithe frame wreathed in tattered black robes and an equally worn, bone-white mantle.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Interrupting the Elf's reflective solace, a black raven descended toward them, its wings producing loud beating sounds as it attempted to slow its descent.
*SHIK*
Before the raven could find a perch, its body abruptly split into seventeen pieces by the hair-thin black wires forming a protective cordon around the Elf.
"Hmmm...?"
Catching the leg of the raven and the message attached to it, the white-haired Elf briefly considered tossing it to avoid the responsibility of having to explain they had slain another messenger. Unfortunately, the moment their fingers grazed the golden tube containing the message, the Tracking and Locking Magic etched into it was undone, informing the sender it had been received.
"Haaaaaa..."
Exhaling a tired sigh, the white-haired Elf removed the tiny slip of paper from within the tube. Doing so released the Shrinking Magic inscribed on the back, transforming the pinky-sized slip into a full-sized piece of wax-treated parchment.
Reading the letter's contents, the Elf's usually impassive face formed into a frown as they asked aloud, "Is this supposed to be a joke?"
Though it wasn't the first time they had been asked to take on a teaching position, the white-haired Elf, known throughout the world as Leshien, the Ebonsword, usually taught former Brave prospects and those with a deep foundation in the arts. Being asked to instruct a child was an insult to both themselves and the countless Adepti who sought their tutelage...
"Ah, so that's how it is..." muttered Leshien, their expression relaxing as they got to the part of the letter detailing the situation in the East. They would have refused if the job was simply babysitting some spoiled brat, but their main responsibilities would be overhauling the training regimen of the border guards and fortifying the estate's internal security. In other words, they were being asked to root out spies.
*Pshhhhhhhhh-* *Rumble* *Rumble*
As Leshien was busy folding up the letter to place in their breast pocket, a veritable deluge began pouring down from the black clouds that had been amassing overhead, accompanied by cracks of crimson lightning.
*THOOM* *KASHACK*
From within the darkened clouds, a crimson bolt of lightning fell upon Leshien's position like divine judgment. Like the rain falling upon them, however, it was stopped by the hazy barrier that formed around them like a bubble, hissing loudly as a smell similar to ozone permeated the area.
"It's about time you showed up," remarked Leshien, raising their bright blue eyes to the sky, their irises reflecting the image of a five-meter-tall creature with a muscular, bipedal physique covered primarily in black fur. Its long, powerful arms and comparably slender legs were tipped with four menacing claws and nails. It also had a long, whip-like tail, red-and-black wings like those of a bat, three yellow eyes encircled by pitch blackness, two curved horns, long ears, a vicious maw, and a pantherine countenance that glowed as crimson as the lightning surrounding it.
"I will rend your soul apart..." growled the creature, moving its right hand like a blur to grasp a bolt of crimson lightning out of the air, forming it into a spear.
"Unlikely..." responded Leshien, extending their right hand as if grasping the sky. The hazy bubble protecting them from the rain disappeared, but in its place, an unremarkable, ebon-black sword that was longer than they were tall materialized, formed from the same black 'wires' that had cut the raven to pieces.
Seeing Leshien's peculiar sword, a distinct possibility entered the mind of the three-eyed, crimson-headed Greater Demon.
"Oh, shit...!" exclaimed the Demon, dismissing any thoughts of fighting back as it turned around and fused with a bolt of crimson lightning. There weren't many white-haired Elves wandering alone. Even fewer possessed black, shape-changing weapons, so even if there was only a 1% possibility of his suspicion being correct, the Demon didn't want to risk it.
*VWOOOM*
Unfortunately for the Demon, even though he zig-zagged at lightning speeds in what he thought were completely random directions, a black, white-tinted beam of energy pierced his chest from behind the moment he reformed. Its diameter was only 120 microns across, but its speed was comparable to light. As it hit him, a painful burning sensation filled the Demon's body, but it wasn't due to energy transfer. Rather, as the 'beam' pierced his chest, it branched countless times, interpenetrating his body and organs like a blooming urchin.
Before the Demon could process what had transpired, a powerful force pulled him back, sending his body crashing through the peak of a small mountain, fracturing it to pieces. He also crashed through several trees before being dragged through the sea of corpses surrounding Leshien's feet, stopping just before them as the diminutive Elf stated, "I will afford you a moment to regret and lament the decisions that brought your path in line with mine..."
"Vile wretch..." groaned the Demon, raising his bloodied face to stare up at Leshien with a mix of fear, loathing, and contempt as he added, "Even if you kill all of us, your sins can never-"
"Uh-huh..." muttered Leshien, stepping on the Demon's head and taking their time to crush it underfoot. Their weight was only around 40kgs, but to the Demon, it felt like a mountain was being pressed down on the side of their head.
"W-Wait! I didn't mean it! We can still talk about-!"
*CRUNCH*
Though the ground beneath gave way first, Leshien was able to crush the Demon's head with very little effort. Its blood, comparable to lava, burned their exposed foot, but their expression exhibited neither pain nor concern as they promptly walked away, a glowing white mist causing their charred flesh to regenerate within seconds...
...
..
.
*loud creaking*
Entering the aviary, Orianna took a brief look around, meeting the curious gazes of several Gryphons, including the black-feathered Aeolus, before calling out in a booming voice, "William Oirthear! I know you're in here! Do you dare to keep your mother waiting!?"
"Of course not...!" responded William, emerging from beneath the wing of the white-feathered Gryphon, his chestnut-brown hair and clothes matted with feathers.
Seeing William scamper over and present himself before her at attention, Orianna was tempted to grin and pinch his cheeks but instead maintained her crossed-arm posture and stern expression, narrowing her eyes as she asked, "What is this I hear about you refusing to return to your quarters and sleeping in the aviary?"
Adopting a wry smile, William relaxed his posture, rubbing his head as he explained, "Ailbhe and the other fledglings are stressed and anxious due to their molting. They feel calmer when I'm here..."
"Hmmm..."
Shifting her gaze from William to the white-feathered Gryphon glaring at her like she were ready to pounce in his defense, a smile invariably made its way to Orianna's face as she asked, "I take it you're Ailbhe...?"
Sitting up, puffing out her chest, and raising her head, Ailbhe responded to Orianna's question with a proud, affirming chirp. This prompted Aeolus to approach and put her paw on Ailbhe's head, forcing her to lower it, but Orianna made it apparent she didn't mind, stating, "Leave her be," with a broad smile. Then, meeting William's gaze, her smile broadened further as she asked, "Does this mean what I think it does...?"
Emulating Ailbhe, William raised his head and puffed out his chest. Before he could respond in the affirmative, however, Orianna abruptly picked him up and threw him into the air, shouting, "That's my son...!" before catching and squeezing him in a suffocating but affectionate hug...
...
..
.