The morning sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone path as Brom and Aelar walked through the sleepy village. Dew still clung to the wildflowers along the roadside, and the scent of freshly baked bread wafted from nearby cottages. Brom's weathered leather boots moved with purpose, while Aelar's newer ones struggled to keep pace.
Brom glanced sidelong at the boy, noting his wide-eyed wonder at everything they passed. He looks so unprepared for what's coming, Brom thought, stroking his short beard absently. But there's something peculiar about him I can't quite place.
"I haven't properly introduced you to the school yet," Brom said, breaking the comfortable silence between them. His deep voice carried the weight of experience. "It's called 'Iron Hedge,' the only school in this region." He paused, watching as a hawk circled overhead. "Every resident here needs to learn swordsmanship because demons are lurking around these parts. We're almost there."
Aelar nodded attentively, his slender fingers nervously adjusting the strap of his mysteriously heavy bag. Demons? he wondered. Like in the old stories? The concept seemed both terrifying and oddly exciting. He kept his questions to himself for now, not wanting to appear ignorant before they even arrived.
As they crested the final hill, the Iron Hedge Academy came into view. What had looked like a distant stone outcropping from the village was revealed to be an imposing structure of granite and iron. Massive walls surrounded the complex, at least thirty feet high and topped with iron spikes that glinted in the morning light.
Aelar stopped in his tracks, mouth falling open. The fortifications weren't merely impressive—they were intimidating, clearly designed not just to keep something out, but to contain whatever might be within.
"Sir, is this the school?" Aelar asked, his voice barely above a whisper. A shiver ran down his spine despite the warmth of the day.
Brom turned to him, his face softening at the boy's reaction. He remembered his first sight of these walls, twenty years earlier. "Yes," he replied, gesturing toward the structure with a calloused hand. "You're probably wondering why the walls are so tall."
Aelar nodded, swallowing hard.
"It's because this place is strict about security," Brom continued, his eyes darting briefly to the watchtowers positioned at each corner. "Demons sometimes sneak in without anyone noticing."
"Demons?" Aelar repeated, confusion evident across his youthful features. His brow furrowed deeply, and his hands tightened around his bag strap until his knuckles whitened. The word seemed to carry a meaning he couldn't quite grasp, as if it should be familiar but wasn't.
Brom noticed the puzzled look on Aelar's face, studying it carefully. Strange, he thought. It's as if he doesn't know what demons are. Everyone in these parts grows up hearing about them from the cradle. Brom was about to explain further, but a quick glance at the position of the sun told him they were running late.
"We'll talk about it later," Brom said, placing a firm hand on Aelar's shoulder and urging him forward. "We need to get inside before the morning bell."
"Yes, sir," Aelar replied, straightening his posture and quickening his step.
They approached the massive iron gate, where two guards stood at attention, hands resting on the hilts of their swords. Their armor bore the emblem of the Iron Hedge—a thornbush wrapped around a blade. Brom reached into his coat and produced a badge made of burnished metal, showing it to the guard on the left.
"Sir Brom," the guard acknowledged with a respectful nod, his keen eyes sweeping over the badge that identified Brom as a teacher at the school. His gaze then shifted suspiciously to Aelar, who tried not to fidget under the scrutiny. "Do you know this boy following you?" the guard asked while checking their verification ledger.
Brom placed a protective hand on Aelar's back. "Yes, guard. Please let him through. It's his first day at school." Brom's tone was polite but carried an undercurrent of authority that wasn't to be questioned.
The guard hesitated for just a moment before nodding. "Understood, sir," he said, pulling out a small book from his belt pouch. "Name?" he asked Aelar directly.
"Aelar, sir," the boy replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
The guard scribbled the name down with a small piece of charcoal, then stepped aside. "Welcome to Iron Hedge Academy, Aelar. Mind the rules, and you'll do fine."
As they walked through the gate, Aelar felt as if he were crossing into another world entirely. The outer walls had hidden a sprawling complex of buildings, courtyards, and training grounds. The main yard bustled with activity—students of various ages practiced sword forms in synchronized movements, their blades catching the sunlight as they moved through their stances.
Others sparred in cordoned areas, the clash of steel against steel ringing out across the grounds. Instructors moved among them, barking corrections or demonstrating proper technique with fluid, practiced movements.
Aelar's eyes widened with excitement at the sight, a smile spreading across his face. This is nothing like the schools I've heard about, he thought. This is... magnificent! "This place is incredible," he said, unable to contain his enthusiasm.
Brom smiled at the boy's reaction, a rare softening of his usually stern features. At least he has the right spirit, he thought. That will serve him well here.
"Aelar," Brom said, guiding him toward one of the side buildings, "let's head over to meet the teacher who will guide you this year. I'll only be able to teach you directly after you've completed your first year here." If you survive that long, he added silently to himself, remembering the dropout rate among first-years.
"I understand, sir. I'll do my best," Aelar replied eagerly, determination visible in the set of his jaw and the straightening of his shoulders.
They walked down a long, stone-floored hallway lit by enchanted lanterns that gave off a steady, unwavering light. The walls were adorned with paintings of famous graduates and battle scenes depicting victories against demonic forces. Aelar tried not to stare too long at the disturbing depictions of the creatures—misshapen things with too many limbs and features that seemed to shift even within the confines of their frames.
Finally, they arrived at a heavy wooden door near the end of the corridor. A brass nameplate read "Professor Sol" in elegant script. Brom raised his fist and knocked firmly.
"Professor Sol, are you there?" Brom called through the door.
Silence greeted them. Brom waited a moment before knocking again, harder this time. Still nothing.
Brom sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. Every single time, he thought. You'd think he'd learn. "He's sleeping again. I can't open the door because it's locked from the inside. Step back, Aelar."
"Of course," Aelar replied, hastily moving aside, wondering what his mentor planned to do.
Brom took two steps back, planted his feet firmly on the stone floor, and launched a powerful kick at the door. The solid oak splintered around the lock with a loud crack, and the door flew open, banging against the inner wall.
The noise revealed a cluttered office with books and scrolls piled high on every surface. Seated at a desk in the center of the chaos, head pillowed on his arms atop a stack of ungraded papers, was Professor Sol. At the sound of the door crashing open, he merely shifted slightly and continued to snore.
Brom's face darkened with irritation, a vein pulsing at his temple. Every. Single. Time, he thought again, clenching his fists.
Aelar began to sweat nervously, sensing the mounting tension. Oh no, he thought. Is this normal? Should I say something?
Before he could decide, Brom filled his lungs and bellowed at a volume that seemed impossible for a human throat: "WAKE UP!"
The effect was immediate and dramatic. Professor Sol jolted upright as if struck by lightning, papers flying in all directions. His chair tipped backward, and he flailed wildly before crashing to the floor in an undignified heap of limbs and disheveled clothing.
"What—who—demons?" Sol sputtered, scrambling to his feet and reaching instinctively for a sword that wasn't at his hip. His tousled hair stuck up at odd angles, and a piece of paper remained attached to his cheek.
"You're always sleeping when you should be working, Professor Sol," Brom said, crossing his arms and looking down at the disoriented teacher.
Sol blinked rapidly, recognition slowly dawning in his bleary eyes. He yawned widely, not bothering to cover his mouth, and stretched his arms above his head until his joints popped audibly.
"Ah, Brom, it's you," Sol said through another yawn. "I thought it was an intruder." He scratched his stubbled chin absently. "What brings you here? Is there an emergency?"
"I've brought someone to meet you," Brom replied, gesturing toward Aelar, who stood awkwardly in the doorway. "A new student for your class."
Sol's shoulders slumped visibly as he processed this information. "I already have nine students to manage, and now you're adding another?" He massaged his temples. "As if I don't have enough work already."
Nine students don't sound like many, Aelar thought, perplexed. And he seems to sleep plenty...
"This comes directly from Lord Rodel," Brom stated firmly. "You have no choice in the matter. The boy is your responsibility now." His tone softened slightly as he turned to Aelar. "Aelar—"
"Yes, Sir Brom?" the boy asked, standing straighter.
Brom placed both hands on Aelar's shoulders, looking him directly in the eyes. "Do your best," he said simply, but the words carried weight.
Aelar felt a surge of determination. "I will, sir," he promised, meeting Brom's gaze steadily.
"Good," Brom said with a nod of approval. "Professor Sol, I leave him in your care." With that, he turned and strode out of the office, footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Sol sighed deeply, running his fingers through his messy hair in a futile attempt to tame it. "Very well," he muttered under his breath. Another student to worry about, he thought. At least this one looks less trouble than the others. Maybe.
He turned his attention fully to Aelar for the first time. "What was your name again?" he asked, stifling another yawn.
"Aelar, sir," the boy replied politely, still standing at attention.
"Aelar, right," Sol said, eyeing the splintered door with dismay. That's the third time this month Brom's broken it, he thought sourly. "Perhaps you could help with that door?"
"The door?" Aelar glanced at the damaged wood with concern.
Sol chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "No, I'm only joking. I'll deal with it later—"
"It's fixed, sir," Aelar interrupted.
"What?" Sol blinked in confusion.
To his astonishment, the door was already repaired—the splintered wood mended, the broken hinges fixed, and the lock functional once more. It looked better than it had before Brom kicked it in.
"How did you do that?" Sol asked, eyes wide with disbelief. He moved closer to inspect the door, running his fingers over the wood that had been splintered moments before.
"I have tools in my bag," Aelar explained, patting the mysterious satchel he carried. "I thought I should make myself useful, sir." His tone suggested this was the most normal thing in the world, though a hint of pride colored his words.
Sol's eyes began to water, and to Aelar's surprise, the teacher's expression transformed into one of profound gratitude. "You've saved me from another reprimand," he said, clasping Aelar's hands. "I'm in your debt."
Is this really a teacher? Aelar wondered, but he smiled politely. "I'm glad I could help, sir."
Sol quickly composed himself, wiping away the moisture from his eyes and straightening his rumpled clothing. "Come along," he said with newfound energy. "Your classmates are waiting, and they're... well, you'll see." Perhaps this strange new student will balance out the chaos of the others, he thought hopefully. Or make it worse. Only time will tell.
As they walked out of the office together, Aelar cast one last glance at his repaired handiwork, a small smile playing on his lips. This place is going to be interesting, he thought, following his unusual new teacher down the hallway toward whatever challenges awaited him at the Iron Hedge Academy.