"You okay, Aries? What happened? Why were you sleeping here? How did you end up here?" Drake asked, standing over me with a concerned expression, his eyes scanning my face intently.
I rubbed my temples, trying to remember. "I... I think I just came here to drink some water, but I must have dozed off," I replied, my voice laced with confusion.
Drake's expression was skeptical, but he didn't press the issue. Instead, he offered me a hand up, and I gratefully accepted. As I stood, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, a nagging sense of unease that lingered in the back of my mind.
"Anyways, I forgot to mention this yesterday," Drake started, his voice low and serious. "Listen, Aries, I have some pressing matters to attend to in Kaelenor," he said, his words sparking a mix of curiosity and concern within me.
"Kaelenor?" I repeated, my brow furrowed in doubt.
Drake nodded, his eyes gleaming with a sense of urgency. "Yeah, Kaelenor. One of the three states of the Marden Kingdom," he explained, his voice filled with a sense of importance. "We should depart today."
I nodded, intrigued by the sudden announcement, but before I could ask any questions about the estate, Drake dropped another bombshell. "I'll also be teaching you the art of swordsmanship," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
I raised an eyebrow, folding my arms across my chest. "What's the point of swordsmanship when I have magic?" I asked, my tone laced with skepticism. "It's just a waste of time."
Drake's smile vanished, replaced by a stern expression. He reached out and rapped me on the head with his fingers, straight and firm. "Ow! Ow! Ow!" I yelped, rubbing my sore head and shooting Drake an annoyed glance.
"Swordsmanship is crucial, Aries," Drake said, his voice firm but patient.
"It's not just about wielding a sword; it's about mastering a skill that can elevate your battle style and amplify your power. When you infuse your sword with energy or pour magic into it, the sword becomes an extension of yourself, dealing more damage and making you a more formidable opponent. Think of it as a synergy between your magic and your swordsmanship – each enhances the other. With swordsmanship, you'll be able to anticipate and react to your opponents' movements, predict their attacks, and counter with precision. It's a skill that requires strategy, finesse, and control."
I scowled, still nursing my sore head. "But I'm a mage, not a swordsman," I protested.
Drake chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong, Aries. Magic and swordsmanship aren't mutually exclusive. In fact, they complement each other perfectly. Think of it this way: magic can enhance your swordsmanship, and swordsmanship can enhance your magic. It's all about becoming a more versatile and effective warrior."
I furrowed my brow, considering Drake's words. "Maybe he has a point. Maybe swordsmanship wasn't just about wielding a sword; maybe it was about becoming a more well-rounded warrior, capable of adapting to any situation." I thought to myself.
"Alright, fine," I said, sighing in resignation. "Teach me this swordsmanship business. But don't expect me to become a master swordsman overnight."
Drake smiled, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "I wouldn't dream of it, Aries," he said, his voice filled with amusement.
As we set off for our journey to Kaelenor, one of the beautiful states of Xylaris, the warm sun shone down on us, casting a golden glow over the landscape.
I turned to Drake with a curious expression. "Hey, Gramps, what kind of business do you have in Kaelenor, anyways?" I asked, my voice laced with a hint of excitement.
Drake's eyes clouded, and his voice took on a serious tone. "It's something about the Knight's summons... We have no choice but to-" But before he could finish, a faint cry pierced the air.
A young boy, not more than ten years old, was being dragged by a burly man, an iron chain wrapped cruelly around his neck.
The boy's eyes were wide with fear, and his small body trembled with each ragged breath.
"No, not my ring! It's the only thing I had, it's the only memory I had!" he pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation.
My anger flared, and I took a step forward, but Drake's firm hand on my shoulder held me back. "Aries, we can't butt in on that kind of business," he warned, his voice low and urgent.
"We don't have time to deal with this. It's become common that they do this. Come on, let's go."
But I couldn't tear my gaze away from the boy's terrified face. The man's cruel laughter as he raised his foot to kick the boy sent a shiver down my spine.
The sound of the impact was like a punch to my gut, and I felt a wave of nausea wash over me.
The boy curled up on the ground, his small body shaking with sobs. The man's boot came down again and again, each kick landing with a sickening thud.
I felt Drake's grip on my shoulder tighten, but I couldn't move, couldn't look away from the horror unfolding before me.
The boy's cries grew fainter, his body limp and still. The man finally stopped, his chest heaving with exertion. I felt a jolt of pure hatred.
Then, he spat on the ground and turned back to the boy, yanking him to his feet by the chain. As the boy's eyes met mine, a jolt of familiarity struck me, like a long-forgotten memory resurfacing.
The sadness, the terror, and the desperation in his gaze awakened a deep-seated pain within me.
My head dropped, my eyes widened, and my mind was flooded with visions of my past life. It looked like I'm myself in the mirror.
The boy's face was a mirror image of my own, a painful reminder of my own struggles and fears.
The man finally took the ring from the boy, who tried to fight back. "Please give it back," the boy pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.
The boy tried to hold on, grasping the man's legs desperately, his small hands wrapping around his pant legs as if begging for mercy.
"Please, I beg you, give me back the ring," he pleaded, his voice shaking with desperation.
But the man's response was brutal. He kicked the boy off hard, and the boy's grip was so tight that a little tear appeared in the pant leg as he was ripped away.
The boy cried out in pain as he stumbled backward, his eyes welling up with tears.
The man's voice dripped with malice as he sneered at the boy. "You little brat, what are you thinking? You have pissed me off now," he growled, his face twisted in a snarl.
As the fading light cast long shadows across the ground, the man pulled out a knife, its blade glinting with a cold, deadly sheen.
The boy's eyes widened in fear as he backed away, his voice barely above a whisper. "N-No..."
The man advanced towards the boy, his movements deliberate and menacing. "Now I don't care what happens, just die, you damn kid," he spat, his words dripping with hatred and contempt.