He’d never met such a serious child in his life, though he couldn’t blame him. One look at the kid’s eyes had told him exactly who Alistar’s parents had been, let alone the fact that he now lived with the bookish lord of Distan. His disciple’s obsession with swordsmanship, with gathering knowledge and practicing the arcane was surely related to the life he’d led prior to his arrival at Caedmon’s household, which was precisely the reason why Tramon was so hard on him. Even if he wanted to live a peaceful life, it was inevitable that Alistar would have to face many terrible trials in the future, a fact that had been proven by the death of the poor lass that had worked at the lord’s manor up until a short while ago. Alistar had yet to even step foot on Loyarrian soil and he already had relatives that were trying to kill him.
Despite the boy’s predicament, Tramon was of the mind that so long as he matured into an adult without any mishaps, the schemes of those that might plot against him wouldn’t proceed as smoothly as their devisers might hope. Even though Tramon had been excessively drunk, the fact that the boy had managed to cut off the tip of his cane—and with a wooden practice sword, no less—wasn’t something to be ignored.
In all his years, he had never seen a youth that could use swordsman’s aura like Alistar, who could now manipulate the internal power source on the same scale as a top-tier adept. Such skills were unheard of within this kingdom, which said a lot considering that Civus was a realm where both swordsmen and their craft flourished more than in almost any other region on the continent.
It’d probably be best to give him a couple more stripes, he thought, suspecting that holding off any longer would only encourage the boy to take drastic measures in pursuit of higher credentials.
“I should’ve just stayed retired,” he grumbled, spotting the distant, moonlit walls that surrounded Distan County with his infamously keen eyes.
He couldn’t wait to get home and lay down on his own bed. Perhaps he’d try reading the book on magic crystals that Alistar had left there the last time that he’d visited, a droning work that would surely see him asleep within a matter of minutes.
Another breeze brushed past, this one carrying with it the faint scent of blood and burnt hair. Smelling this, Tramon froze on the spot and narrowed his eyes, honing his senses on the road up ahead.
To the northwest?
Whatever the source of the foreboding scents, it originated from roughly 2,600 paces to the west of the county’s southern entrance. Struck by a bad feeling, Tramon trusted his reliable instincts and took off at a rapid run, easily a match for the useless horse that he’d abandoned a few days back.
As he drew closer to the source of his intrigue, he detected that someone was using swordsman’s aura beyond the mass of trees on his left side, a familiar feel to the unique energy.
Stupid boy!
Tramon abandoned the crate on his back without hesitation and dashed through the woods on silent feet, a strain of worry settling within his stomach as he heard the ferocious cries of an unknown beast, a feline based on the frequency of its roars. More than fury, he heard anguish as well.
A minute later, he spotted the animal in question, unable to determine exactly what type of cat it was due to the fact that the entirety of its body was aflame. Sure enough, as the dying animal stumbled over roots, crashed into trees, and thrashed around with violent abandon, a familiar figure chased after it while covered in a heavy cloak of swordsman’s aura.
Seeing that Alistar wasn’t in immediate danger, Tramon leapt atop the thickest branch of a nearby tree and crouched down to watch the situation play out in silence. The air was heavy with an oppressive aura, as if a dense fog were filling the forest for hundreds of paces in all directions from where the conflict was taking place. Even for someone like him, he felt the slight sensation of having weights tied to his feet. He finally realized why Caedmon had invested so much into piling all of those limiters onto the boy’s hands and wrists, a thought which unsettled him as he saw that his disciple had only removed four of his twelve limiters. Tramon couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if Alistar removed all of them at once, a musing that made him marvel at the power of the boy’s bloodlines.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
I don’t recall giving him that sword. Suppressing a snicker, he shook his head at Alistar’s impatience when it came to anything related to combat. How many times had he asked Tramon for a sword of his own, to learn a new technique or for permission to challenge the other disciples at the collegia? At least this way nobody else can see what he’s capable of. Revealing one’s skills to the public came with its benefits, sure, but Tramon was of the mind that one’s greatest advantage in life was to be underestimated by those that might seek to harm them.
He watched on with an intense gaze as Alistar doused a small amount of fire on the beast’s back, leaping atop the location in question and stabbing the end of his short sword into the small of its neck.
Too shallow, he thought, seeing that it took a moment for the suffering cat to die. This moment was crucial, as it cost Alistar one of his fingers. Does he not realize he’s on fire?
His eyebrows jumped up as he witnessed Alistar reattach his severed finger in a matter of minutes, a task that even seasoned healers required much more time to carry out.
His head snapped to the southwest, where he sensed rapid movement. Through the gaps in the branches, he barely made out the visage of a particularly large dark-maned bobcat, its long, dagger-like claws catching brief bits of moonlight as it dashed in the direction of his disciple. Alistar had clearly let his guard down, for he didn’t seem to sense the oncoming beast.
He’s still got a lot to learn, sighed Tramon, who dropped down from the tree as the silent predator came up behind the boy like a ghost in the night. Clearly relieved at having survived the encounter, Alistar turned his head just in time to connect eyes with the angry animal, which was almost nose-to-nose with him.
Not wanting to take any risks, Tramon flattened his hand as if he were about to slap someone across the face, covering it in a fine, dense layer of swordsman’s aura that he casually severed his connection with after making sure that it wouldn’t dissipate for at least four seconds. Slashing at the air with his hand, the golden energy—for it was of such a quality that it could be seen with the naked eye—crossed the fifty or so paces that lay between him and his disciple, disappearing after drawing a neat line through the great cat’s broad, thickly-maned neck. A second later, its head slid off of its body with a grotesque, slimy sound, falling on one of Alistar’s hands and bumping into his body with a roll as an exaggerated amount of blood began to fountain out of its still-standing body.
Tramon chose this moment to step out from the shadows and approach his startled pupil, who watched with wide eyes as the beast’s body fell to the ground with a loud thud, blood continuing to pool around him.
“M—Master? How can you be here?”
“What, am I not allowed to travel through the mountains?”
“No, it’s just…what timing.”
“Only the best warriors know when to make an appearance.”
Alistar was too shocked to stand, so he simply remained seated as he looked up at his teacher with a golden gaze, fine traces of silver accenting the striking, gilded shade.
“I…thank you, Master. You just saved my life.”
“I wouldn’t have had to, if you weren’t such an impatient brat.” Glancing at the smoldering carcass of the initial bobcat, which was still aflame in some parts, he curled his nose and said, “Get up. The stench here might kill us, if nothing else.”
Alistar tried to stand, but fell back into the large puddle of blood with a sickly splash. As Tramon suspected, he was still in shock. Reaching down, he grasped him by the arm and began dragging him away, though the boy found his footing after a few moments and pulled away from him.
“Wait,” he said, wiping a thick film of blood from his face while leaving a heavy smear. “We can’t just leave them here.”
“Don’t tell me you want to eat them?”
“You don’t really think that, do you? Those carcasses are worth a lot of money, so I want to sell them.”
He smacked Alistar across the head. “Don’t get cheeky with me, boy.”