Meanwhile, back on the training grounds, a certain black-haired fellow was swinging his sword with clean precision, his light eyes wild yet focused on his target.
The young boy weaved and swerved through his opponent's attacks, while counter attacking with his own hits. Swords clashed against swords, and the boy's opponent was slowly being pushed back.
The onlookers who watched the duel happening before them were amazed by the sight. The young boy, who was only twelve years old, could push back a man twice his age. Such a feat had never been done, and the boys watching realized that they had underestimated him.
The duel ended with the boy's victory and his opponent bowed his head in shame but also respect.
"Good work Atilla. You have passed the exam and will soon graduate from being a knight-in-training."
Atilla bowed his head, thanking the instructor before taking a seat in the stands.
The group of bows cleared a spot for him, their eyes wary and afraid. But Atilla paid them no mind. In fact, he was glad they were ignoring him instead of teasing him like they used to do.
Ever since Atilla had heard about the accident Hael had suffered, his mood changed. He no longer cared for anyone, and his focus was simply on fighting. He had been training hard for the past four months, anxiously waiting for Hael's return so that he could show him how far he'd come, but it was all for naught as the person he admired the most was inching closer and closer to death's door.
With no solution in sight, and no one to turn to, all he could do was take out his frustrations and helplessness in fighting. At just the young age of twelve, he was going to become the youngest knight in the royal order.
At that same moment, Ceremus was walking by, choosing to wander into the palace to clear his mind before his visit to see Hael. He caught the spar between Atilla and the older knight and found himself intrigued by the young boy.
So he approached the group, and the minute the instructor sensed his presence, he paled, his forehead sweating profusely, hands clenched at his side as he felt his pulse rising. The others around him felt the same, and they bowed their heads out of respect for the king. All but one—Atilla, who glanced at the king with keen interest.
A ghost of a smile took over his face, and he quickly told everyone to be at ease.
"W-We weren't expecting an audience with Your Majesty today—" he began, but the king interrupted him.
"I didn't come here to watch you fight. I came here for the boy." He said, his eyes staring at Atilla's back.
The instructor's eyes widened. "The boy?" He then followed Ceremus' line of sight and his mouth hung open when he realized who he was talking about.
"Your Majesty…are you talking about Atilla?"
"Is that his name?" Ceremus asked.
The instructor nodded. "Yes, he's a talented boy, but I don't think Your Majesty needs to be bothered with him…"
"Oh?"
"He's a rather troubled fellow, not one who talks or interacts with other people much." He said.
"Perfect," Ceremus said as he turned to look at the boy once more. "Just my kind of person. Bring him here." His tone was final and resolute, leaving no room for discussion.
So the instructor had no choice but to call for Atilla. His brows creased, and there was a flash of worry in his eyes which made Ceremus confused.
He couldn't understand why the instructor was so hesitant to introduce this little boy to him. It wasn't like he was going to give him a scolding. He simply wanted to speak to him.
The problem was, the instructor wasn't worried about what the king was going to do to Atilla. His problem was simply with the boy. Atilla was an enigma, a puzzle he couldn't figure out and had no interest in figuring out. To put it simply, Atilla was terrifying. He was the kind of person people avoided, not just because of how different he looked, but because of the way he acted and carried himself.
Atilla was a force to be reckoned with, even as a twelve-year-old. The instructor took a deep breath and went to call on him.
Atilla's grey eyes flicked toward him—devoid of any feeling or emotion. They were empty and regarded him with cold indifference. A chill prickled at the back of his neck, and for a moment, the man felt as though he stood before a predator rather than a boy.
See? No child should have those eyes, the eyes of a killer.
Atilla's gaze then turned to Ceremus. He tilted his head to the side before getting up and walking towards him. Once he was close enough, he bowed his head and gave his greetings. "You wished to see me, Your Majesty?"
Ceremus sensed all eyes on them and felt a mix of emotions directed towards the boy. None of them were good.
"Yes child. Come with me." He said before walking off. He didn't turn to see if Atilla was following him, but he could hear his light and cautious footsteps behind him. This only made him even more curious about the boy.
They walked all the way to a secluded corridor where no prying eyes could disturb them.
"Have I done something wrong, Your Majesty?" The boy asked, cutting right to the chase.
Ceremus had to resist the urge to smile. He was finding the boy even more interesting than before.
"No, not yet anyway. You are that boy who used to train with Hael, are you not?"
At the mention of Hael's name, Atilla stood upright. His eyes widened slightly.
"Uh, yes, I was," He breathed.
Ceremus noted the subtle change in his demeanour. "I see. Hael has spoken a great deal about you. He mentioned that there was a talented boy among the trainees."
Atilla's head shot up when he heard this. The boy had finally gotten rid of his rigid mask and looked up at the king with surprise. "H-He mentioned me to…Your Majesty?" He asked in disbelief.
Ceremus looked down at the boy and couldn't help narrowing his eyes. It was clear Atilla respected Hael and put him in high regard. This sight strangely pleased the king, even though the respect wasn't directed at him.
"Where are you originally from, child?" He suddenly asked.
He had suddenly taken notice of Atilla's appearance and couldn't help wondering.
The previously excited boy suddenly looked uncomfortable, as if that question was something he was hoping Ceremus wouldn't ask him. Had it been anyone else, he would've glared at them and walked off, but since he was being questioned by the king, the boy had no choice but to answer.
"I used to live in the Nahatian region." He said in a low voice.
"Nahatian region?" Ceremus repeated with raised eyebrows. "As in Nahatia? The country in the north?"
Atilla nodded, expecting to be chastised by the king for his origins. However, the barrage of insults and hostility he was expecting never came. Instead, Ceremus looked delighted to hear this, and his elation over this piece of information confused the boy.
"Ha, would you believe my luck?" He heard the king say. "Say, boy, how would you like to become the king's personal knight?" He asked suddenly.
"Huh?"
"You have officially become a knight today, have you not? Then it shouldn't be a problem for you to become a personal knight." He said nonchalantly.
Atilla's eyes grew wide. He looked at the king, searching his face for any signs of deceit, but could find none. He was being serious, which made the young boy even more confused. "W-Why would Your Majesty want me as a personal knight?" He asked incredulously.
"For various reasons, but I won't divulge those for now." He said. "consider it carefully and let me know once you've decided. But I suggest you make your decision quickly."
"Uh, how quickly exactly, if you don't mind me asking?"
Ceremus tilted his head. "The end of the day?"
"Huh?!"
"Don't keep me waiting too long," Ceremus said before taking his leave.
Atilla stood there as he watched the king's retreating figure. "What in the world just happened?"