Aoki the blacksmith stared at the boy the Crown Prince's guard had dumped in his workshop. His blood ran cold. The child was unconscious, his clothes torn and smelling of burnt wood. But there were two features that made Aoki's heart hammer against his ribs.
The first was the hair. Hair as white as fresh snow. A trait known throughout the kingdoms as the exclusive, genetic signature of the Ottoma royal family.
The second was the eyes, which fluttered open for a brief moment. They were a stunning, bright emerald green, glazed with pain and confusion.
This was no simpleton servant boy. This was Prince Carl himself.
"His Highness suggests this... problem... disappears in the mountains of Dwargo," Captain Vorik said, his voice implying the unspoken alternative. "You will be paid handsomely. Enough to clear your debts to the crown and then some. Do we have an understanding?"
Aoki's mind raced. The debt was crushing. The money was a lifeline he desperately needed. But this was treason of the highest order.
He looked at the boy again. If he refused, the guard would likely kill the child right here and find another way to dispose of the body. At least this way, the boy had a chance to live.
Swallowing the lump of fear in his throat, Aoki nodded slowly. "I understand. He will be my apprentice. No one will know."
The journey was a nightmare. Aoki, driving his rickety cart pulled by a sturdy mule, and Carl, wrapped in blankets, slept fitfully. The immense mana that had flooded Carl's body during the lightning strike was like a wild river raging inside him. He couldn't control it. He was feverish one moment, shivering the next. Strange, static sparks would occasionally crackle at his fingertips, startling the mule.
Aoki was a blacksmith, not a healer. He could only watch helplessly, wondering if the prince would even survive the three-month trek to the dwarven kingdom.
Their salvation came in a small trading town at the foothills of the Astro Mountains. A caravan was forming up, hiring guards for the dangerous pass. Among them was a group of adventurers—battle-hardened men and women heading to Dwargo for work.
Aoki, seeing no other choice, approached them. "My boy... he is sick," he pleaded, his voice rough with worry. "The road is hard. I have little coin, but can you help?"
The group's leader, a grizzled warrior, was about to refuse when a young woman stepped forward. She had kind eyes and wore the simple robes of a healing mage.
"My name is Sakura," she said, already moving towards the cart. "Let me see him."
She knelt beside Carl, her hands glowing with a soft, green light as she checked his pulse and placed a cool palm on his forehead. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of his white hair, but she asked no questions.
"His body is fighting a great power within," she murmured to Aoki. "It is mana, but unlike any I have felt. It is too much for him. He needs constant care to stabilize, or the energy will consume him."
Seeing the desperation on Aoki's face, she turned to her party leader. "We will travel with them. The boy needs my help."
Thanks to Sakura's daily healing sessions, Carl's condition slowly stabilized. The fever broke, and the dangerous surges of mana became less frequent, though the strange, potent energy still simmered beneath the surface. The journey was still long and hard, but now there was hope.
Finally, after months of travel, the rocky foothills gave way to a breathtaking sight. Carved into the very base of the colossal Astro Mountains was the entrance to Dwargo. It wasn't a gate; it was a masterpiece. A gigantic archway, hundreds of feet tall, was intricately carved with runes and depictions of dwarven heroes and forge-fires. Torches and glowing crystals lined the inside, leading into a well-guarded tunnel that descended deep into the mountain.
Aoki let out a long, weary sigh of relief. They had made it.
He looked back at Carl, who was now awake, his emerald green eyes wide with awe as he stared at the immense dwarven gate. He was a long way from home, and his new life was about to begin.