It had been twenty days since Voltair made contact with Kael through the shattered crystal.
The Duke held his secret near during this time, sharing the gravity of his decision with no one. Twenty long days bled into each other, each one confirming the absolute reliance on Kael's sense of honor. Voltair rarely left his private wing, allowing the isolation to become a reflection of the deep uncertainty surrounding his son's destiny.
Then, one dawn, the atmosphere underwent a complete transformation.
The clouds over Frostpeak hung motionless; the atmosphere became weighty, as if the world itself inhaled a purposeful breath. The snow outside appeared to descend more soundlessly, muffled by the sudden density. Voltair, seated in his study, recognized the significance instantly. He stood without a word, the familiar weariness temporarily departing, and walked toward the immense manor gates.
An individual approached through the castle's main entrance.
His fabric blended almost too effortlessly with the snow-covered earth, and his presence distorted the very space around him. Even the guards who had no awareness of his identity felt their hands tremble. His stride was light, and each step possessed a purposeful force.
Kael Ardyn had fulfilled his covenant.
The passage of years had not affected him as it did ordinary people.
His features were leaner, his eyes were keener, and his demeanor was as unreadable as Voltair remembered. When he reached the steps of the manor, the Duke inclined his head.
'Kael,' Voltair said softly. 'I had begun to conclude you'd reconsidered.'
Kael's eyes moved toward him. 'It was you who initiated the call, after all. And besides, I am not one who breaks his assurances.'
That was the entirety of the exchange. No welcoming gestures, no inquiries regarding the decades. Kael proceeded inside, following Voltair without resistance.
The manor's interior seemed to contract under Kael's influence. The corridors were vacated and the lack of sound extended thinly between every footfall. They traversed the main hall, moving toward the sealed Healing Chamber where Richard lay.
Inside, Richard lay motionless, his skin devoid of color, his respiration shallow.
The boy was a stark illustration of devastating magical overreach.
Kael stood just past the doorway, his eyes fixed. 'So this is the boy.'
Voltair gave a confirming motion. 'He is resilient. His core, nonetheless, was destroyed when he attempted to surpass his limitations. The healers state his body requires duration for full mending.'
Kael did not offer an answer. He advanced nearer to Richard's bedside and looked down at him. He regarded the boy with careful analysis. Kael's presence offered no comfort. It carried the chilling mass of one who had witnessed too many lives conclude to provide meaningless encouragement.
He extended a hand, halting it just above Richard's chest. He merely sensed the energy, not making contact. The indistinct blue light of the boy's fractured core pulsed weakly beneath his skin. Kael exhaled, an almost imperceptible sound of realization.
'His core possesses instability, and life persists,' Kael stated. 'The damage is serious. Should he force mana circulation again, his physical form will fail before his magical capacity does.'
'Then what course of action remains?' Voltair asked, desperate for a solution.
Kael lowered his hand and stood tall. 'Nothing that your practitioners of healing would endorse.'
Voltair's eyes narrowed. 'Clarify your meaning.'
Kael pivoted toward him. 'The implication is that if you desire him to live as more than an incapacitated person, he must learn to exist without reliance on magic. Until his body can accept it once more.'
He glanced back at Richard one last time, an assessment of the challenge, then proceeded toward the door. Kael stopped before exiting.
'All is well,' Kael stated, 'But why isn't the boy absorbing the mana present around him, like all of us do?'
Voltair's brow furrowed a little. 'It is because he never learned to.'
Kael looked completely baffled, "You mean, he's never had a master?"
Voltair replied regretfully, "That's Correct."
Kael did not understand the reasoning behind a Duke's son never attending an institution or having a private teacher, but he kept any further questions to himself.
'Fine. I won't burden you with more questions. Maintain his life until he can stand unaided. I shall revisit when the snow subsides.'
Voltair's demeanor darkened with apprehension. 'You are departing again?'
Kael halted at the doorway, his silhouette framed by the room's inadequate light.
'I returned only because of your request. We'll see if he is worthy enough of my time."
He started walking away. His concluding utterances rested in the atmosphere like atmospheric chill.
For a long period, after Kael left, Voltair stood entirely alone in the resulting void. Then he looked back at his son: fragile, wounded, though breathing. He let out a sustained breath.
'Prepare yourself, Richard,' he observed. 'He is not an instructor you can afford to fail.'
--
[One Month Later]
A full month elapsed following Kael Ardyn's first visitation. The snows had begun their inevitable retreat, revealing the frozen ground beneath.
When Kael returned, it was without prior notification. The manor's sentinels failed to notice his approach until they saw the Duke standing near the gates, prepared. The same mass, soundless feeling followed Kael as previously, exerting pressure on everyone's nerves. It was merely the influence of his identity.
Again, he offered no verbal greeting when Voltair met him, giving only a concise acknowledgement before demanding, 'Is the boy prepared?'
Voltair did not answer instantly. 'The healers assert the core necessitates greater duration. Despite this, his body…it retains its strength. Somehow, he is able to walk at a decent pace, almost miraculously.'
Kael's eyes traveled toward the horizon. 'Then he will endure the remaining requirements.'
--
That evening, Voltair summoned his son.
Richard entered the study wearing a dark overcoat, the healing marks from his recovery still observable beneath his neckline. His eyes held clarity now. They were not fiery or tempestuous as before, but collected, assessing. He stopped before the Duke and Kael, giving a concise bow.
'You requested my presence, Father?'
Voltair regarded him for an extended time before speaking. 'This man here will take you with him. You will receive instruction under his tutelage, far from Frostpeak. You will conduct your life and acquire knowledge as he directs you, without objection. His name's Kael.'
Richard blinked once, seeking to decipher his father's demeanor. 'For what duration?'
'Until he declares your readiness. Twelve months, perhaps twenty-four.'
The communication carried consequence. Richard revealed no reaction. He glanced at Kael, who stood near the shelving, arms crossed, his view distant.
'And if I decline?' Richard inquired, his voice testing the waters.
Voltair's lips curved a little, the feeling was without merriment. 'You will not.'
Richard offered no disagreement. He grasped the impact those words carried.
Kael then spoke. 'We depart at first light.'
He pivoted and vacated the room without uttering another sound. Voltair did not call him back.
The subsequent hush was unusual. The father and son remained in the study's dim illumination, neither willing to initiate further conversation.
Ultimately, Richard disturbed the lack of noise. 'You entrust him beyond anyone else, do you not?'
Voltair's eyes softened momentarily. 'I entrust him to fashion you into someone worthy of my regard.'
--
The Same day, late at night, as the manor settled into rest, Richard stood on the outer terrace overlooking Frostpeak. The night sky was unobstructed. The cold no longer assaulted his senses so fiercely.
He turned when he perceived footfalls.
Lucien appeared behind him, carrying a minor travel sack. His customary genial look was absent. 'You are truly departing?'
Richard confirmed this. 'For an undefined duration.'
Lucien moved uncomfortably. 'The Duke asserted it is for your benefit. Still, with that unusual man?'
Richard gave no response. Instead, he looked out into the snow again, his voice becoming soft. 'There is a task I require you to execute for me during my absence.'
Lucien furrowed his brow. 'What is it, young master?'
Richard stepped nearer, lowering his voice so even the wind could not transmit the words. He spoke for a few moments, concise and purposeful. The result was that whatever he said caused Lucien's eyes to widen.
'Young Master, that's…can you be serious?' Lucien's voice cracked a little. Disbelief merged with apprehension. 'If anyone discovers this--'
'They will not,' Richard interjected calmly.
Lucien stopped, then looked away. He grasped the sack strap more securely. 'You are inviting calamity, Young Master.'
'Perhaps,' Richard replied. 'It is essential.'
Lucien remained speechless. Then, ultimately, he exhaled sharply through his nose. '…Very well. I shall undertake it.'
Richard smiled, a weary, authentic look that felt almost alien upon his features. 'I offer my thanks.'
The two remained there for a moment and when the wind escalated once more, Lucien turned and withdrew.
Richard's thoughts were organized, and his heart was strangely resolute.
Tomorrow, he would leave Frostpeak behind him.
Fear existed there, concealed deep within him but beneath it, something different had begun to escalate. Hope and Resolution.
--
The subsequent dawn, before sunrise, the gates of Frostpeak were opened.
A single transport rolled out, cutting a path through the white horizon. Kael sat at the front next to the driver, ever uncommunicative, his mantle drawn tightly around him. And beside him, Richard sat alone, observing the manor recede gradually into the mist.
Behind him, in the upper window of the keep, Voltair watched until the transport vanished completely. He did not speak. He only turned to the empty room and spoke under his breath, 'Good luck, son.'
Far below, in the servants' quarters, Lucien sat on his bed, his mind replaying every instruction Richard had given him. He presented an image of unease, even culpability.
'…You are senseless, Young master!' he muttered softly.
And long after Richard's departure, Lucien stood and adjusted his coat, exiting the manor gates with a serious face.
Whatever Richard had requested of him. It was already put in motion.
--