One of the boys had broken a branch over his head, at which point they all began to kick and stomp with savage abandon, the large, bloodied boy having found his feet and joined the others with zeal. Alistar curled up into a ball and endured the beating, which was quite mild in comparison to those that the guard captains at Crystellum had forced upon him.

“Ow,” uttered one of the boys, rubbing at his toes after kicking Alistar in the abdomen. “Why is he so hard? I feel like I just kicked a wooden—”

The boy fell to the ground beside Alistar, his temple leaking blood down the right side of his face, where a fist-sized rock had just smacked into his head.

“Get away from him, you losers!”

The beating stopped as another boy was tackled to the ground by none other than Zech, who had been one of the few people attending today’s lesson atop the hill. As Anice’s friend was busy pummelling the fallen boy, the main aggressor of the small group jumped on top of him and began to punch him in turn. To stop the remaining two from ganging up on Zech, Alistar reached for the nearest ankle and pulled one of the boys to the ground, putting him to sleep with a few unstable punches.

As Zech struggled to break free from the other two, another rock flew forth from the grasses that fringed the pathway on one side, which connected with the larger boy’s right eye. This caused him to let go of Zech and roll onto his side while clutching at his eye, with blood leaking through his fingers as he let out a terrified scream. Seeing this, the last standing member of the group ran away from his unconscious friends, which left the scene quiet and still.

The back of Alistar’s head felt wet, and he noticed small droplets of blood pattering onto the dirt as he crawled over to Zech’s stirring form.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Better off than you are, I think.” He touched a finger to a fat lip and then pulled back to see it covered in a light film of blood. Raising his voice, he said, “And I’d be a lot better if Corrie wasn’t such a coward!”

There was no response. Whoever had thrown the rocks had left.

“Why did you help me?”

Zech stood up and then hauled Alistar to his feet, adopting an awkward look as he did so. "Just remember that I helped you, okay?” He ran off without waiting for a response, leaving Alistar alone with the other boys who were either slowly stirring back into awareness, or squirming about the ground with cries and whimpers. Thinking of the locket that sat beneath his neckline, Alistar was thankful that the red gem hadn’t fallen out during the fight. These boys were unpleasant, but he didn’t want them to die.

Frowning, he dug out the pair of coins that he’d shown them earlier and placed them beside the larger boy, who was crying into his bloodied hands as if nobody else were around. Hopefully, they could get along in the future.

With blood dribbling down the back of his head and soaking his neckline, Alistar drew quite a bit of attention as he hobbled his way home. He was dizzy and slightly delirious, but he made it back to the manor house in due time. The guards that stood at attention by the gates to the property had tried to carry him to his quarters, but he’d brushed them off and continued on his way, assuring them that he was fine.

Alder wasn’t so easy to dismiss, however, so instead of heading off into the city to sort something out for Caedmon, he dragged Alistar to the stables on the western side of the property.

“Why did we have to come here?” The hay was damp and musty after the previous night’s storm, the horses looking at the new arrivals with curious gazes. “I wanted to get some bandages from Madeline.”

Alder, who had been considering him quietly with chestnut eyes, let out a snicker. “Madeline would faint with worry if she saw you like this. Here, sit on this stool.”

The chamberlain left for a moment and then returned with some clean rags and a bucket of water.

“Tilt your head forward and look at the ground.”

Once he did so, he jolted in shock as he was drenched in a wash of water.

“Now, let’s take a look… As I thought, it’s not that bad.”

“Really? But there’s so much blood.”

“Head wounds bleed a lot. You’ve just got to make sure that they’re sealed up quickly.” He folded up one of the rags and then handed it to Alistar. “Hold that against your wound. I’ll show you something cool.”

Alder closed his eyes and mumbled some strange words, before he dipped a hand into the near-empty bucket and drew up a small globe of water that squirmed around as if it were alive. The ball of water hovered above Alder’s palm as if he were holding a fist-sized ball.

“Alright, move that rag out of the way and lower your head again.”

Alistar’s head cooled by a noticeable degree as the aquatic sphere found a place above the small gash. The soothing sensation was soon accompanied by an insatiable itch that reminded him of the day that he first awoke in Caedmon’s home.

“You really can do magic…”

“What, you thought I was lying?” Alder raised his head with pride. “I am a magus, you know. How do you feel?”

Alistar touched a hand to the back of his head and felt that the wound had sealed, though it was raw and still itched something fierce.

“I’m okay.”

“Alright, then you should be all set. Let’s get you back to your room, or the library, or whichever one you sleep in these days.”

“Wait!” He reached out and grabbed at one of the man’s sleeves. “Mr. Alder, since you’re a magus, do you think that you could teach me magic? Uncle told me that I would learn, but he’s always busy whenever I ask.”

Alder donned a complicated frown. “I don’t think it’d be a good idea for me to teach you without Caedmon’s permission, but don’t worry. You’ll learn magic soon enough.”

“But why can’t I learn it now? I’ve already come into my energies, and I can control my magical awareness.” He pointed to the empty wall of the stable’s far side. “Madeline’s hanging laundry on the other side of the estate. Patricia’s in the central gardens, picking flowers.”

Alder closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them with an odd smile. “That’s impressive, kid.” He slapped Alistar on the back and let out an excited laugh. “That’s really something. Still, you won’t be learning magic for a while.”

“But why? I’d rather learn magic than swordsmanship.”

“Do you trust your uncle?”

“Of course.”

Alder nodded toward the exit and led him out of the stables. As they began to head back to the manor house, he said, “Then trust his judgement. You’re a Silverkin, you know. You’ve got a strong bloodline, which means that a small mistake when practicing magic could kill you, or those around you. Magic is dangerous, especially the battle magics you seem so fond of.”

“How did you know?”

“You’re not the only one who visits the library. I can tell when a book’s seen a recent reading.”

As they drew up to the western entrance of the manor house, Alistar slowed to a stop, conflicted. “Mr. Alder, did you know my father?”

“I didn’t.”

“Every time I bring him up to Uncle Caedmon, he changes the topic.” He’d inquired about his father on many occasions, but had only learned that he had been a nobleman in some province of the Baldor Empire. His uncle was clearly hiding something from him, but he had no idea what it might be. “Perhaps Uncle Caedmon didn’t like him?”

“Far as I know, he never met him.”

“Do you know why we were sent to the mines?” His eyes began to water, something that hadn’t happened even during the beating from before. “Mama and Father…why did they have to die there?”

Alder knelt down and placed his hands on Alistar’s shoulders. “There’s a reason for everything, Alistar. Nothing good will come of learning about what happened all those years ago. For now, just focus on living the best life that you can. If you really want to honour your family, then make the most of this chance that they’ve given you.”

He nodded, his heart heavy.

“As far as magic goes, you’ll be learning it soon enough.” Alder glanced at the silver bracelet on Alistar’s wrist. “Your uncle just needs to sort out a few things before then. Like finding the right person to teach you.”

Alder walked with him to the library, stopping to nick a tunic from a basket of clothes that one of the house servants had left unattended in the hallway. Once Alistar had changed out of his bloodstained shirt, the man bid him farewell and returned to the task of running an errand for Caedmon.

With nothing to do and nobody around to bother him, Alistar opened up one of the many books that rested atop the desk where he usually sat. He’d been reading up on the Kingdom of Alta, which was the southernmost realm on the continent. Unlike the other kingdoms and states that stretched across Mais, there was hardly any information on the region, which stoked his curiosity in the same way that most mysteries did. Taking a long breath, Alistar distanced himself from the anxieties of the day and then delved into the musty pages, which kept him occupied for most of the night.