Wolf was thrilled. This journey was going to be the first adventure of his life. A real adventure! Completely different from when he was playing pretend in the forest, acting like he was a hero or a Mage from his father's stories, killing vicious bushes with a stick or stone.

The excitement lasted roughly two days. On the third day the boy got bored. Apparently, real adventuring was very boring. Even worse than killing evil stationary bushes.

He and his father were definitely on an adventure. There was no denying that. Then… Why? Why were they just walking for hours on end through a dense forest? Wolf walked back home too! And he wasn’t even on an adventure back then! Furthermore, he could go to sleep or rest or watch ants or play when he felt like it!

Well, to be honest, walking wasn’t really the only thing the two of them did. They would take a break every two hours or so for Wolf to poop or pee or drink water or munch on the provisions his father had brought or any random combination of the four, depending on the mood. They would also sleep at night in a camp Archibald personally set up. The most interesting thing that happened was his father talking on and on.

Archibald, Wolf’s usually quiet father, suddenly became very talkative. Very, very talkative in fact. The man didn’t shut up, which wasn’t that bad given that Wolf had nothing else to do but listen to him. Not to mention that Wolf could now ask his father about adult stuff. Most parents tend to have a seizure when their child approaches them to talk about adult stuff, but not Archibald.

Wolf wanted to talk about swordsmanship and magic, not about iffy questions of morality and sex. The former True-Namer was glad to talk for hours on end about the adult topics his son was interested in.

However, before all of those talks and boring days began, there first came one lengthy conversation. The two of them had to talk about a matter unrelated to the mature stuff which Archibald enjoyed.

Even though it was a grownup topic, it was kind of opposite to the Wolf’s favored topics of sword and sorcery. It was a very practical question that needed answering right here, right now. And the answer was likely to be unpleasant.

***

“So, son, could you perhaps tell me where exactly is the inheritance of that Sword-Saint?” Knowing where one was going was often the first step of setting off on a journey. However, Archibald had delayed asking this question for as long as possible, and for a good reason. He knew he wouldn’t like the answer.

Wolf nodded vigorously, unaware of his father’s dread.

“Yes! It’s in a place called Green Glen Hill. The hill is three days north of the city of Wolfswood.” In this simple sentence Archibald found out a number of troublesome things. He shouldn’t have been surprised. But those three words… City of Wolfswood… They spelled trouble all by themselves.

Firstly, the city of Wolfswood was straight north from the Muddy River. It would take roughly two to three months for a grown man to reach it, assuming they were used to hiking and nobody shot them dead along the way.

Wolf naturally failed to meet the grown man used to hiking requirement. Meaning it would probably take the father and son half a year to reach the place. More importantly, the city of Wolfswood was smack in the middle of the Empire of Elf. An empire that the Empire of Human was currently at war with. Archibald was out of the loop, but as far as he was aware, the most recent ceasefire between the two empires had ended several centuries ago. Long before he was born.

The second bothersome thing about the damn place was that the city of Wolfswood used to be one of the strongholds of the elven imperial clan. The settlement started off as a branch clan village, but over the millennia it grew into a true bastion of the Wolf clan. Despite the fact that Sky was not born there and didn’t belong to that branch of her clan, it still used to be a place where Wolf’s mother’s clansmen used to live. Over the years this clan had caused a number of headaches for Archibald, his duchy and the entirety of Empire of Human.

Last, but not least, the city of Wolfswood was destroyed some two decades ago. This happened during a very bloody era, if not the bloodiest in the history of the Empire of Elf. Back then, the Wolf clan was uprooted and their millennia-long reign had ended in tragedy. After an incredibly brief power struggle, the most prestigious elven clan was annihilated and the ownership of the Empire of Elf had changed hands.

Archibald had expected that an elven Sword-Saint would set up his place of legacy in the elven lands. It made sense, but it was still an unwelcome piece of news.

Wolfswood fell some twenty-five years ago. Why would that Sword-Saint use it as a landmark? Archibald wondered. Maybe he's a survivor of the Wolf clan? Was he here for Sky then? Did he realize Wolf was her son? There is a high chance that’s the case if the little rascal introduced himself.

Sigh. It’s useless to speculate about all this now. If he was Sky’s enemy, he would have simply strangled the danger while it was in the cradle. On the other hand, if it was a friend or someone returning a debt, it makes sense to show the boy some grace. But how did he manage to track her down after so many years? Even I ran into her by accident…

Wolf kept silent for a couple of moments as his father was thinking.

“Son, you said that that man was an elf, right?” Archibald asked carefully.

“An elf. Just like mommy.” Wolf thought that he was caught in a lie, so he quickly blurted out an affirmation while bobbing his head.

Archibald also nodded, but in a considerably more dignified manner.

“It appears I was right. Fine, we’ll go there. Even though it’s deep within enemy territory, we should be relatively safe. The forests along the way should be dense and we'll be on the move the whole time. Not to mention that the elven population was reduced quite a bit and they probably still haven’t recovered.”

Wolf had no idea what some of those words meant, but apparently his father hadn’t figured out that he was lying. Just to be on the safe side, Wolf kept his mouth shut and silently trotted after his father.

About a quarter of an hour later, Archibald spoke once more.

“Would you like Father to instruct you on the subject of magic? Unfortunately, I can’t do practical demonstrations, but I should be able to show you how to cast spells. You’re a bright boy and you’ll understand it even if I can't teach by example.”

“I can also tutor you about the astonishing theory of magic, as well as retell some of the most wonderful debates I’ve committed to memory.” The last words were spoken with great enthusiasm.

In fact, as far as Wolf could remember, his father had never been this enthusiastic about anything. So much so that he failed to notice that he was bombarding a four-year-old with terms the child couldn’t possibly have known. One of them particularly stuck out due to how excited the man was when he said it.

“What’s a debate, Daddy?” Wolf asked after a short pause.

“Debate is a battle of words. A contest of wits in which people talk and try to show that their ideas are the correct ones.” Archibald answered with passion shining in his eyes. Apparently, he missed debating.

A moment later the man continued with a considerably less passionate tone. “You should stop calling me daddy. You can use dad or father. You’re almost a grown man now. Grown men shouldn’t go around calling their father Daddy.”

Other than the fact that Wolf was a four-year-old grown man, the only thing he could understand from all of that was that his usually quiet father actually liked to argue with people. Still, being considered a grown man made Wolf feel proud.

“Um, sure… Dad? Can we now start with how to cast spells?” Wolf asked expectantly. He couldn’t wait to start killing bushes with Fireballs instead of sticks!

“Nonsense! When it comes to magic, spells are of secondary importance. The theory, the principles and ideas which great people had on magic over the millennia is what’s really important. In fact, they are the root of all magic!” Archibald continued talking in that loud, impassioned voice of his. With the way he recklessly flailed his arms, the man kind of sounded like an excited bear… and showed no signs of stopping.

“… and then we have several basic theories. All of them are at least somewhat opposed to all of the others. We have the theory of four basic elements versus five basic elements versus the theory of eight winds of magic versus the theory of ten colors of magic…”

Half an hour in, Wolf was still trying to follow what his father was talking about. He didn’t really understand what his father was saying, but kept trying to commit the words to memory.

“… ruling theory amongst the human spellcasters is the four elements one, but with an addition of the four auxiliary elements of light, darkness, life and death. Which is nonsense in and of itself, considering that life and death fall within the realm of the gods. But even with this addition…”

Two hours later, Wolf was in the bushes doing his business, while Archibald continued explaining the wonders of elements, whatever that meant, since Wolf understood none of it.

“... True-Namers use True Names to alter reality, while the hypothetical Edict-Makers go a step beyond. The theory says they create their own laws or edicts which follow their will without any command on their part, for example gravity or the changing of the seasons. Not much is known about this advanced form of magic. Some speculate that the phenomena we see today were all created by Edict-Makers of old…”

Wolf intently stared at and admired an especially big cricket, which he saw on a tree behind his father’s back as the duo ate their lunch.

“… this uncertainty is the reason for most debates I mentioned previously. Namely we don’t know now how many natural laws this world was born with. So some laughable quacks speculate…”

Archibald prepared the bedrolls for himself and Wolf, but even after a full day of talking he just kept going. He’d barely paused while eating.

“... casting spells boils down to using Soul Force to commune with the world around you. Then, through the words and motions imbued with Soul Force, one can transmit their will to the world...”

Wolf was still rubbing the sand out of his eyes, yet seeing him move his father already began sharing his infinite wisdom in the faint predawn light. Wolf was certain that yesterday alone his father had said more words than he had over the course of Wolf’s life.

“... There’s still no consensus on whether you’re forcing the world to make the changes, or whether you’re pleading and then your wishes come true…”

Archibald spoke. He spoke a lot. He spoke for days. Wolf, on the other hand, understood little. Very little. But the boy knew that his father was happy, so he didn’t want to interrupt him.

On the tenth day of their trip, the father and son were already nearing the border.

Much to Archibald’s dissatisfaction, he had to reign in his emotions and speak in a much softer voice.

Wolf’s soul was powerful, his mind keen. Thanks to that he could commit to memory the words his father had said. Even though he couldn’t understand much of it... At the very start, Wolf really did try his best to pay attention.

His father probably wasn’t rambling on and on without a point. Many questions swarmed Wolf’s mind. The most important being, why does all of that matter in the first place? But Wolf had a feeling that if he asked this question out loud his father would spank him silly. Slowly but surely, his father’s unending stream of unknown words became an unintelligible background drone.

After days of spouting random gibberish, Archibald finally shut up. He was annoyed that he had to keep his voice down when talking about the important and wonderful topics of the theory of magic. Apparently the topic was infinite, while Archibald’s patience was very much finite. He would talk more later, when they got back to human lands where he could talk freely.

“Did you understand that?” he suddenly asked Wolf.

After a moment’s thought, Wolf decided to tilt his head to the side and play it safe.

“Kind of?” he offered.

His father nodded and pursed his lips. “Kind of? Kind of is good enough for now I guess. I’ll start teaching you incantations and show you the motions required to cast some of the most basic First Order spells. It will take a while for you to figure them out, but we have plenty of time. Some people call the spells of the First Order cantrips, or orisons or false spells. But, let me tell you…”

As Archibald started his introduction of First Order spells, or cantrips, or orisons, or false spells or whatever else they were called, Wolf realized one thing with perfect clarity. Today he wouldn’t be learning any of them.

Archibald's lessons:

Sword-Sages and Mages use resources known as Internal Energy and Soul Force to perform their arts. The more advanced the action the greater its cost. Body Refiners don't have this limitation. Their power comes from their body and as long as they have enough endurance they can do their thing indefinitely. At first glance Body Refiners seem to have the best deal, yet their power depends on how much they are able to improve their original body. From that their limitation is obvious...