Last week, Aric had begged Princess Azel to let him work at the castle, hoping to escape the drudgery of the orphanage. Instead of granting his request, the princess, wrinkling her nose as if he were a particularly offensive odor, had ordered the guard to lock him up. However, seemingly afraid of dirt clinging to the castle walls, Azel asked the guard to release him and instructed him to meet her. Aric ended up working at the castle as a "dirt slave," a title that stung with irony.
He was cleaning the basement, a damp, dimly lit space filled with discarded tapestries and forgotten treasures, tidying up the mess the princess had made during one of her "experiments." Exhausted, his muscles aching from scrubbing floors and hauling heavy buckets, he sat on the cold stone floor to rest for a moment, staring at the mildewed wall. He kept thinking about Aunty Rina; it had been too long since he last saw her. He felt like he had no home to go to and was increasingly confused about his parents and where he came from. Was he truly just an orphan, abandoned at the doorstep of the orphanage?
"What are you doing?" the princess asked, her voice echoing in the cavernous space. She was holding a large, leather-bound book, its pages yellowed with age.
Aric startled and scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding. "Princess, I was just resting—"
Before he could finish, the princess thrust the book into his hands. "Hold it; I need to try something," she said, her eyes gleaming with an almost manic energy.
He simply followed her instructions, his brow furrowed with confusion, watching as she made strange, intricate movements with her hands, muttering words he couldn't understand. Suddenly, a blue light flickered around her fingertips, growing brighter and brighter, but she seemed unable to control it. The light pulsed erratically, then exploded in her own hands with a sharp crack. "Oww!" The princess recoiled, clutching her hands to her chest. Blood seeped between her fingers.
Aric, forgetting his place, dropped the book on the floor and ran towards her, his face etched with concern. "Your hands, Princess, they're bleeding!" he said, noticing the crimson droplets staining her pale skin.
The princess pushed him away, her eyes flashing with annoyance. "Don't touch me! Look at the book you threw," she replied, acting as if her hands were perfectly fine. She wiped the blood on her skirt and left, leaving Aric bewildered. He looked at the book, lying open on the floor. It wasn't a normal book, but one filled with intricate diagrams and arcane symbols, a history of magic and mages. He picked it up, his fingers tracing the strange symbols, a sense of wonder washing over him. He left the basement and went to his cramped, windowless "slave room" near the horse cages, a space that smelled of hay and manure. "What is this..." he whispered to himself, clutching the book to his chest.
The castle was hosting a grand ceremony for mages, a gathering of the most powerful magic users in the kingdom. Aric, scrubbing the horse cages, his hands raw and blistered, heard a loud, resonant sound from the castle, a deep chime that vibrated through the very stones. Startled, he dropped his brush and ran towards the castle, thinking something terrible had happened, but saw strange people wearing cloaks of different colors, each unique to their clan: crimson cloaks embroidered with flames, emerald cloaks adorned with leaves, sapphire cloaks shimmering with water droplets. He peeked through a tall, arched window into the grand hall.
"Welcome, my fellow mages," said the king, his voice booming with authority, greeting all the mages' clans. Aric's eyes widened at the sight of something he had never seen before: the top legendary mages who had fought the monstrous, shadow-like creatures that had tried to invade the kingdom 300 years ago, their faces etched with wisdom and power. He then saw the princess, standing beside her father, her face flushed with excitement. He didn't know what they were talking about, but it seemed like the princess was being greeted by some of the mages, their expressions a mixture of politeness and skepticism. They were in conversation, their voices hushed, and walked towards a large, ornate door on the side of the chamber hall. Aric, wanting to know more about the mages, snuck around the castle walls, his bare feet silent on the stone path. He jumped from the window and ran to his room, his mind buzzing with questions.
"Eat well, horses! Need to do something!" Aric yelled to the horses, patting their velvety noses, before hurrying to his room. He took the book the princess had bought but forgotten to take back, its weight feeling significant in his hands. He closed the door and the broken window, shutting out the sounds of the castle, and opened the book. He read through it, his eyes widening with each page, finding it more than amazing. "It's... full of magic it's called mages with different powers," Aric whispered, his voice filled with awe.
All his life had been living hell. He was bullied, abused by the sister, and didn't know who his parents were. "No one knows who my parents are... maybe I am like them," Aric said, answering a question he didn't know the answer to. He looked at his hands, seeing only wounds, scratches, and dirt ingrained deep into his skin. He sighed, a sound filled with despair. "The book says if my hands are clean like a newborn baby, I can be a mage? But my hands look so... hmm," Aric murmured and closed the book, unsure of what he really was. Could he, a lowly "dirt slave," ever hope to become something more?
In the king's ceremony with the mages, they were sitting on intricately carved circle chairs and tables, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of enchanted candles, while other mages, perhaps guards, stood silently behind the legendary mages, their eyes scanning the room. "My king, it's a pleasure to be here again after a decade, and you are still healthy and strong as ever," one of the mages said humbly, his voice resonating with power.
The king laughed, a hearty sound that echoed through the hall, his mistress's daughter, Princess Azel, sitting beside him, her face a mask of nervous anticipation. "Master Zekil, if it weren't for your guidance, I wouldn't be living this long," the king replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Master, I was wondering if you could take my daughter, Princess Azel, to learn magic. She really loves being a mage," the king said, his voice casual but his eyes filled with a desperate hope.
The masters looked at each other, their expressions unreadable, and one of them sighed softly. "My king, with all due respect, to become a mage, one must possess a special ability, an innate connection to magic. Normal people can learn, but they can't control it, which would be a great danger to their lives and to those around them," one of the masters replied, his voice firm but respectful.
Princess Azel was already nervous, her hands trembling slightly. "I want to be a mage I can control this magic," the princess whispered to herself, her voice barely audible.
The king was stunned into silence, his smile faltering. He couldn't force the mages with violence, as he couldn't defeat them. He had a mage army, but the masters he was meeting were not simple mages; they were the most powerful magic users in the land. The king smirked, his eyes narrowing. "How about you all watch what she can do? She has been learning for almost nine years now," the king said, his voice regaining its confident tone.
The masters exchanged glances, their faces still unreadable, and one whispered something to Master Zekil, the most powerful and respected of the mages. Master Zekil looked at the king and the princess, his eyes piercing and assessing. They had no idea what the masters were whispering about, what secret plans they were making. "My king, we will give your daughter a test tomorrow to see if she can control the power she has learned. I will bring her to the Arcanum realms, a place where magic is at its purest and most potent," Master Zekil said, making the king smile, his hope rekindled.
"I've got this. This is my only chance," the princess whispered to herself, a determined smirk playing on her lips.