Rowan stepped out of the awakening hall into the cold corridor. The air felt like a release after the pressure inside. The heavy doors swung closed behind him with a muted thud, the guard runes along the frame humming once as they sealed.
Aelric was waiting just beyond, leaning against the stone wall. The younger prince pushed off the wall the moment he saw Rowan and his face lit up.
"Well?" Aelric said, walking over. "How did it go?"
Rowan forced a small, steady smile and kept his voice even. "Nature affinity. Advanced rank."
Aelric's grin widened until his eyes went bright. "I knew it. I told you, you'd surprise everyone. Advanced Nature is incredible, Rowan. That makes both of us."
Rowan nodded quietly, folding the truth back under the polite answer. Inside him, a storm still rolled, but he kept that to himself.
Aelric clapped him once on the shoulder. "Come on. Father told me to bring you to him right after your awakening. He wanted to see us together."
They fell into step side by side. The corridor felt longer than before. The silence between them was heavier now, but steady too, like the quiet of two people who had learned to bear things without words. Rowan kept his face calm, though inside his heart raced as if the five orbs in his head were still pounding at his ribs. No one must ever know about them.
Instead of turning toward the grand throne hall, they walked into the quieter heart of the palace, where the King's private study awaited. The same familiar scent of parchment and ink hung in the air, softened by the steady warmth of the hearth.
King Hector Ashvall sat behind his desk, dressed simply but carrying all the weight of his station in his gaze. He looked up as the two entered, and the sharpness of his eyes made the room still.
"Father," Aelric said with practiced ease, bowing. Rowan followed, lowering his head and folding his hands.
The King's eyes lingered on Rowan for a moment longer before shifting to Aelric. His voice was even, quiet but carrying.
"Well, Aelric," he asked. "How did it go?"
"Advanced Nature affinity," Aelric answered quickly, pride in his tone.
The King's brow shifted, and for the faintest moment his expression softened. "Is that so?" His eyes returned to Rowan, measuring him as though weighing truth against possibility. "Considering your initial test was so low, this is an excellent surprise." A pause, the fire crackling in the silence. "You have proven that test to be inaccurate. You have made me proud today."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Rowan said, steadying his voice.
The King studied him another breath longer before speaking again. "You will also go to the Crownlands Academy in a few months, alongside Aelric."
Rowan's head lifted, surprise flickering across his face. Crownlands, one of the only places in the world where true power was taught. The thought sparked in him like kindling catching flame.
The King's tone deepened, practical now. "The Crownlands do not forbid anyone from taking their admission trials unless their affinity is below common grade. Those with Rare affinities are selected outright, as Aelric and Cyrus were. With Advanced Nature, your acceptance is nearly assured. Unless, of course, you completely fail the trials yourself."
His gaze lingered once more, and this time Rowan felt the weight of it. It was approval, yes, but not without a quiet edge, as though the King suspected there was more beneath the surface.
"As for learning before then," the King continued, "I could assign tutors to teach basics of magic, but it would serve little purpose. Better you save your efforts for the Crownlands, where knowledge has not withered. Their trials do not require you to perform magic."
Rowan bowed again. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
The King reached for a sealed parchment on his desk and slid it across the polished surface toward Aelric. "Take this to Larry. He'll see that you are given access to the treasury. Rowan," his gaze turned back, sharper now, "you may choose any grade two aura sword you like. A gift for your awakening."
Rowan stepped forward, bowing once more. "I am grateful, Your Majesty."
Aelric smirked from the side. "And what about me, Father?"
The King raised a brow. "Did you not already receive your gift at your awakening?"
Aelric's grin faltered, slipping into sheepishness. "Perhaps I did."
"Then be content," the King said, though a faint warmth crept into his voice, softening the words.
The audience ended there. Aelric tucked the sealed letter into his belt, Rowan pressed the weight of his gratitude into another bow, and together they left the quiet, firelit study.
Rowan did not know where they were headed but as they kept moving he started remembering this area of the palace; he had come here a year ago on his first day in Nirathal being escorted by Ferris. Those memories came back as they walked: orderly desks, the smell of paper and oil, a quiet room that felt more like a medieval office than a royal place.
They entered and went deep. In a room sat Larry Heins. He looked up from his desk. He recognized Aelric first and then Rowan. His eyes were sharp but not unkind. "Prince Aelric," he said with a small, genuine smile. "It seems the throne room sends you my way often."
Rowan dipped his head. "It's good to see you again, Sir Heins."
Larry returned the greeting in the same formal tone as before and then spoke more directly. "And you must be Prince Rowan—yes, I remember you from last year."
Aelric stepped forward and handed Larry the sealed letter. "Father instructed us to access the royal treasury. Here's his order."
Larry broke the wax seal and scanned the parchment once, then twice. He read the lines with a practiced eye and nodded. "Everything is in order. Come with me."
He rose and led them through deeper passages. Torches lined the halls and the guards at the big treasury doors saluted as they passed. The doors themselves were massive, iron-banded and heavily guarded. When they opened, the hall inside gleamed with gold and stored wealth. But they did not walk among the visible treasures long. Larry led them into a small chamber off the main hall and opened a second door.
Behind that door was a room of blades. Racks filled every wall with swords of all shapes and sizes. The air smelled of oil and steel. The light caught on runes and inlaid wire. Larry explained as he guided them, "These are all grade two swords. They channel aura better than ordinary blades. They are found in beast zones or in old rune sites. The old forges and rune masters who could truly make them are gone, lost knowledge. Here, they are ranked from grade one to four for simple ordering, the higher the order the greater they are."
He swept his hand and added, "Pick any one you like."
Rowan moved among the racks, feeling the hum of the metal through his boots. He let his hand wander along hilts and guards until a black-and-red blade caught his eye. It looked mean and honest, the pattern of faint runes along the fuller matching the dark steel. The grip felt right when he took it. It fit in his hand almost as if it had been waiting.
"This one," he said softly.
Larry nodded once, satisfied. "A good choice for an awakening gift. I'll have it readied."
They left the room the same way they had come. As they crossed back through the small office, there Rowan saw Ferris standing. He had seen Ferris many times over the past year in the palace. Ferris had also helped him gain common knowledge about magic.
Ferris, noticing them, bowed and said, "It's good to see you, Prince Rowan. Prince Aelric."
Rowan also said, "Good to see you, Lord Ferris."
Heins asked, "What are you here for?"
Ferris ignored Heins. He glanced at the sword in Rowan's hand and looked a little puzzled, then curious. "Is that an aura sword?"
Rowan answered, shortly narrating his awakening story.
Ferris folded his hands and smiled proudly. "Congratulations, Prince Rowan, awakening to an Advanced affinity while having low potential—miracles do happen." He spoke the last words as if they pleased him personally.
Larry, looking at this scene, said, "I did not know you could smile, Ferris."
Ferris grunted at Larry.
Rowan and Aelric exchanged polite farewells and left the office.
The next day, after a long session of training had left Rowan exhausted and aching in familiar ways, he returned to his room. A letter lay on the bed where it had not been before. He opened it carefully.
Inside, the note was brief. It read, "Nice to meet you, Prince Rowan. I have a request. Do not attend Crownlands. If you follow our request, you will get to keep your life. If you don't, then we will take your life."
Rowan read it twice. He folded the paper and put it away without a tremor in his fingers, though a cold thought rode along his spine.
He sat back on the chair and let out a low sound, more amusement than fear.
"Get to keep my life?" he said aloud to the empty room, a small, bitter laugh leaving him. "Hah. Like I care." He tightened his hand around the scrap of parchment. "Let's see how long they keep theirs."