Aurelion sat motionless, his legs dangling from the examination table, waiting for Gretha's experienced fingers to secure the last bandage on his forehead.
Two days. The ache from his broken nose and split lip had perhaps subsided a bit, but that deep, unsettling pain in his bones was still there. Every breath reminded him of his ribs with a dull ache.
That fight… That first, real moment of explosion after seven years of patience, disciplined waiting, and training. The uncontrolled release of that intensity within him, that hard to define energy he had tried to rein in for years... An involuntary, crooked smile appeared on his lips as he remembered the momentary, pure fear in Nazgûl's eyes as he fell.
Was this pleasure? No, not exactly. It was more like… a confirmation. It was the primitive, dizzying taste of power and will triumphing over brute force. The pressure that had built up for years, that feeling of inadequacy, had dispersed, if only for a moment, in the midst of that bloody brawl. Yes, strangely, he had felt lighter, even truly alive for the first time in a long time. It was as if the chains had been broken.
But the cold reality that followed immediately was searing. That loss of control. Forgetting to defend himself as he was swept away by the tide of his instincts and suppressed emotions, his almost instinctual attempt to attack Harkan…
That was a weakness. A betrayal of himself. This stain cast a sharp shadow over that savage satisfaction. "I should have been more careful. More… ruthlessly controlled."
"Yes, that's it," Gretha said, interrupting his thoughts. She stepped back and checked her work. The old healer's eyes scanned Aurelion's bandaged face.
She sighed. "Try not to push yourself for a few more days. No heavy training. If you feel dizzy, nauseous, or anything like that, tell me or Mistress Linnea immediately."
"So much ambition at this age… It's not a good sign, child. Remember, sometimes the greatest strength is the one you refrain from using." Aurelion responded to this veiled advice with only a blank stare. Refrain from using power? That was a consolation invented by the weak.
Gretha, understanding that saying anything more to the child's indifference was pointless, mumbled, "Alright, you can go," and turned towards the other beds.
Aurelion glanced at the other corner of the infirmary. Nazgûl still lay motionless, his moans coming from deeper within. His face was even more swollen with bandages.
Aurelion felt a shiver, but it wasn't pity. Just a cold assessment of the outcome. "Stupidity and weakness come at a heavy price," he thought. He had paid his own price too. But Nazgûl's, no, his was much more. It was a strange manifestation of justice, perhaps.
He cautiously slid off the table. Though every muscle protested, he tried to stand tall. Ignoring Gretha's advice to "rest," he walked to the door.
The corridors were familiar but felt different today. Perhaps they were quieter than usual. As he approached the common hall, the children's chatter faded, as if someone had sucked the air out.
Whispers cut off like a knife, games froze. Eyes turned to him. Some wide with curiosity, some with obvious fear, a few with openly hostile scrutiny. That small, savage Elf who had roared in blood and mud yesterday was now among them, and it was unclear what he would do.
Aurelion felt this intense attention but didn't hesitate for a moment. His expression didn't change. He didn't care one bit what these brats thought of him. Were they afraid? Good. Did they hate him? Even better. The only thing that mattered was that they understood he was a threat, that he could no longer be ignored.
His golden eyes scanned the hall, searching for specific targets. There he was. Grok. The large Ork brat occupied one of his usual corners, but without Nazgûl beside him, his posture was less threatening, even a bit lost. Their eyes met. Pure rage flashed in Grok's eyes, it was clear he was gritting his teeth, but there was a new emotion in the depths of his eyes. Unease. He was the first to break eye contact, grumbling and turning away.
Aurelion's eyes shifted to the other target. Theron. The Eluvian brat seemed to freeze the moment he saw Aurelion. His eyes widened in terror, his face paled, and he quickly turned and tried to blend into the nearest crowd. He was hiding. This blatant fear caused a faint, icy smile to appear on Aurelion's lips. Yes, the message had been clearly delivered.
Just as he was about to head towards his usual strategic spot by the window, he heard footsteps approaching him. He turned his head slightly, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
Elara. The Wood Elf girl was there, her hands clasped in front of her, fiddling with the worn hem of her dress. But there was a determination in her stance. She came right up to him.
Her green eyes, examined Aurelion's bandaged face. "Aurelion?" she whispered. "Are you... alright? I mean... your wounds? They looked... very bad two days ago."
Aurelion looked at the girl. Strange. This girl was now worried about him instead of being afraid. She was much less timid than he expected. Or maybe... her concern overcame her fear. "I'm fine," he replied curtly and emotionlessly.
"Really?" Elara persisted stubbornly, taking another small step closer. Her eyes were now focused on the large bandage on his nose. "It must still hurt. That Ork was very... rough."
Aurelion rolled his eyes. "He was an idiot. Weak." Elara's unexpected persistence and concern annoyed him. Why didn't she run away? Shouldn't she stay away from someone who displayed such savagery? Did she think he had prevented the Orks from bothering her before? Or had she misinterpreted his harsh reaction to her helplessness in the courtyard as some twisted form of "caring"?
The possibilities swirled in his mind. Or the simplest. The girl was lonely and perhaps saw him as the only person she felt remotely close to. This last thought was more plausible but still annoying.
"But..." Elara's voice was hesitant, "...it still hurts, doesn't it?"
This question caught Aurelion off guard. Yes, it hurt. His muscles protested, his bones ached. But to admit it? Wouldn't that be a sign of weakness? "No," he said automatically. "It doesn't matter. Just a few scratches."
What mattered was survival, passing the test in that courtyard. Pain was just a price to be paid. The whispers of others, their fears, even Elara's strange, misplaced compassion… It was all distracting.
Just then, a clear and familiar voice rose from the other end of the hall, silencing all murmurs: "Aurelion."
Linnea. Elara, as if caught red handed, flinched and quickly took a few steps back.
"Please come to my office," Linnea said. "We need to talk a bit."
Aurelion sighed inwardly with annoyance. The inevitable had come. Ignoring Elara, he turned and walked with confident steps towards the office behind Linnea. He would get through this round too.
Linnea went behind her desk, gesturing for Aurelion to take the wooden chair opposite her before sitting down herself. Aurelion sat without objection, silently waiting for the woman's next move.
The woman remained silent for a moment. Then she clasped her hands on the table. "Firstly," she began "how are your wounds? Gretha's intervention looked good, but you must still have some pain."
"I'm fine," Aurelion said, his voice expressionless. He didn't want to prolong this topic.
Linnea's gaze lingered on the bandages on his face. "About what happened in the courtyard... I was worried, Aurelion. Very worried." Her words seemed sincere, but Aurelion didn't lower his guard. "I was worried for you." Linnea leaned forward slightly, her fingers reaching towards the empty space on the table, as if she was about to touch Aurelion, but she stopped. Instead, she closed her eyes and focused for a moment.
Aurelion perceived a wave of energy emanating from the woman, not touching his skin but its presence palpable. It was as if invisible fingers were passing over his wounds, checking his condition.
When Mistress Linnea opened her eyes "Look," she said again "I understand you want to get stronger, to defend yourself. We are forced to do so in these lands. But..."
Her voice suddenly changed, returning to that professional, administrative tone. "When we spoke in the office before, you claimed you were ready for those trainings, remember? And I told you it was too early for that." Her words hardened. "And two days ago... you, unfortunately, proved me right."
She paused for a moment, waiting for Aurelion's reaction. The child just stared back at her silently, his nose slightly twitched.
"What you displayed in that courtyard...That uncontrolled violence, and more importantly, the fact that you were clearly enjoying it... It was not only dangerous, but also foolish, Aurelion. Yes, you defeated Nazgûl. But at what cost? Are you aware of the risk you put yourself in? What if there had been a little more sense behind that brute force? What if Harkan hadn't arrived at the last moment? I'm aware of your potential. You have immense potential. But this potential is like an uncontrolled fire spreading in the wind. If not directed correctly, it will turn everything around it to ash and consume you the most."
"Get this into your head. Two years from now. When you turn nine. Just like your peers, you will take the Talent Tests for the College. In those tests, they don't just look at how hard you can hit. They measure your intelligence, your aptitude for the "rules," your endurance, and most importantly, Aurelion... how well you can control yourself. The results you get will determine not only whether you get into the College but also what path you will take. If you behave as you did two days ago... If those uncontrolled outbursts continue... The result you get in those tests will be a disaster. You will have wasted all this potential, all this ambition, with your own hands. Do you really want that?" Mistress Linnea was trying to appeal to Aurelion's logic and long term goals.
"I'm not offering you a choice, Aurelion," she said clearly. "I'm showing you a path. Either you learn to control this intensity within you, whatever you call it. You become disciplined. You show yourself not only in the courtyard, but here, in lessons too. Your intelligence is at least as important as your muscles, perhaps even more. Sharpen it. If you do this...if I see that you are truly trying, that you are trying to change, then I too will approach you differently. I will trust you. And yes, perhaps I can even guide you on those "matters" you are so curious about. But if you continue on that old path... Then I can't do anything. I'll have to watch you fall."
This was a clearer message than in their previous conversations. Knowledge. And the kind of knowledge Aurelion wanted most. College. Advanced training. "Those matters"...
He didn't know if Mistress Linnea was bluffing, but it was worth the risk. This woman was one of the few key people he knew. Cooperating with her, at least for now, seemed more logical than antagonizing her.
Linnea's logic annoyed him, but it was hard to argue against. Control. That's what he needed to learn. This wasn't a defeat. It was a strategic maneuver.
He slowly raised his head, his golden eyes meeting Mistress Linnea's directly. Without speaking, he gave a slight nod. It was a silent acknowledgment, indicating he accepted the deal.
This silent submission was more effective than words. She took a deep breath "Good," she said, her voice clear. "I trust this conversation will remain between us. But don't forget, Aurelion, my word still stands. My eyes will always be on you. I will watch every choice you make, every step you take." She stood up, gesturing for him to leave the office. "Now go, prepare for tomorrow's training. And I expect... more from you. More intelligently."
Aurelion rose from his chair without a word. This was an agreement, yes. But it was also a cage. For now, he would stay in this cage. The intensity within him hadn't subsided. It had merely changed direction, found a new focus. To learn, to control, and to wait for the right moment.
The next day, at dawn, the courtyard was again filled with the same tense anticipation. Aurelion, standing within the group, consciously tried to keep himself calmer. The agreement he made with Linnea was fresh in his mind. Control.
Harkan appeared in the middle as usual. All eyes turned to him. "We saw some of you pushing your limits here, Some of you even crossed those limits." His gaze shifted back to Aurelion. "Aurelion! Your wounds are still fresh. No fighting today!" Aurelion expected this decision. Linnea's intervention was clear.
But Harkan continued. "However, that doesn't mean you'll stand aside and watch the others!" He pointed to the same assistant instructor beside him. "Today, you'll continue from where you started. But this time, harder."
Aurelion grumbled inwardly but didn't show it. This was part of the agreement. Discipline. The assistant instructor pulled him aside again. Warm up run, push ups, sit ups... The same monotonous movements.
But there was something different today. Aurelion tried to perform the movements with more control. He focused on feeling every contraction, every breath. He wanted not just to endure, but also to perfect his technique even in these simple movements, to use his energy more efficiently.
When the other children started sparring in pairs, Aurelion was still on the ground doing push ups. Harkan's voice was heard periodically again. "Faster!" "Don't hold your breath!" "No slacking!" But this time, there seemed to be a kind of expectation in Harkan's voice.
Aurelion didn't fall. Yes, his body trembled, his muscles burned. Sweat stung his eyes, his breath burned his throat. But he continued. Every repetition was a promise to himself. Control. His will fought against his body's weakness, and this time, his will was stronger.
He knew Harkan wasn't just punishing him, but also testing his endurance and mental strength. And he, though gritting his teeth, challenged this difficulty. The pain was still there, but it no longer gave him that savage pleasure. It was more... an obstacle to be overcome. A part of the learning process.
When the training ended, Aurelion, could barely stand. But he was upright.
Harkan came to him. He scanned him from head to toe. The bandages on his face, the mud stains, the labored breaths... But the expression in his eyes was different.
"Hmph," Harkan grunted, which for him was almost an expression of approval. "Better than last time. At least you didn't flail around like a shitty brat. You seem to understand. Strength isn't just about hitting. Sometimes... it's about being able to continue." He stepped back. "That's enough for today. Get out of here."
Aurelion didn't answer. He just nodded slightly. With heavy steps he left the courtyard.
Today too, there was blood and sweat, but it left a different taste than yesterday. This was the taste of earned respect.
Dinner was a welcome break for his tired body. As he mechanically ate his food, he thought about the meaning of today's training and Harkan's attitude. He had been punished, yes, but also tested and, to some extent, approved.
Just as he was about to leave his tray and get up, a caregiver, as usual, approached from the crowd. "Aurelion. Captain Roric wants to see you. He's waiting for you."
Roric... Apparently, it was his turn to lecture him now. Still, his curiosity overcame his fatigue. Following the caregiver, he headed towards one of the small offices Captain Roric rarely used within the orphanage.
When the door opened, he saw Roric. This time he was sitting at the table. When the Captain noticed Aurelion enter, he slowly raised his head. A shadow of a smile seemed to flicker at the corners of his lips but quickly vanished.
"Come in," Roric said. "Sit."
Aurelion walked to the hard wooden chair opposite the Captain's desk. His eyes never leaving Roric for a moment. What would this massive warrior want? Would he scold him, or…?
"You look better than I expected" Roric began, his black eyes carefully scanning the fresh bandages and prominent bruises on Aurelion's face. "I expected you to have taken more damage after the fight in the courtyard."
"Did you call me here to talk about this, Captain?" His voice came out clear and a bit challenging.
Roric nodded slightly "Yes, and no." He leaned back "Your "performance" in the courtyard... has been much talked about. Mistress Linnea is worried. Chief Instructor Harkan is… I think impressed, but also wary."
"How do you know?" Aurelion asked, not hiding the suspicion in his voice. Who had told him so much detail?
"It's my business to know, little elf," Roric said calmly. His expression didn't change, but his tone became serious. "Listen. I'm not here to judge you. What you did… was unexpected. Yes. Uncontrolled. Foolish, too. But believe me, in these lands, especially during the Great War, I have witnessed far, far more terrible things. What you did, compared to that, remains an innocent children's fight." This unexpected confession surprised Aurelion.
Roric leaned towards the table "I see you want to be strong. Like every child in that courtyard. That's understandable. But engrave this in your mind. That thing called power is like a naked sword you hold in your hand. If you don't know how to use it, you'll cut yourself too. You were lucky, lad. Or maybe your instincts protected you. But you can't rely on luck or those instincts again."
He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. Maybe... Maybe this massive, warrior could give him an answer. More than Linnea's evasive words and abstract analogies…
"I'm aware," he said in a hoarse voice. It was the first time he had admitted this much to anyone. His voice came out with difficulty. "That feeling… I can't control it. Sometimes it feels like it's overflowing… This impatience… This intensity… How… How can I restrain it, Captain?"
Even as he asked the question, he struggled with the strange feeling of vulnerability that came with asking someone for help.
A rare, faint smile appeared on Roric's face. "Restraining it … may not be the right word, Aurelion," he said thoughtfully.
"Perhaps the real issue is to understand and direct it. First, you need to know what it is. Is it just impatience? Or ambition? Maybe anger? Or a bit of everything? What is the origin of this intensity?" He stood up and walked to the window. "To understand yourself," he murmured, "first… you need to know who you are, lad."
Know who you are… These words echoed in Aurelion's mind. His mother's golden eyes, her pale face... "High Elf…" But was this an identity, or just a label? What was that strange mark on his palms? Why was he different from the others?
He instinctively opened his palm. In the flickering light of the the pale gold Scale Seal became distinct. Perhaps the answer was here. With a momentary courage, he stood up, walked towards Roric, and extended his palm towards the Captain. "Then you tell me who I am, Captain, what does this mean?"
Roric slowly turned, his gaze focusing on the child's palm, on the glowing Seal. He looked silently for a long time.
Finally, he shook his head "As I said… High Elves keep their history, their lineage, and the meanings of such marks from outsiders. They are a proud and secretive race. They protect their own culture." His gaze met Aurelion's eyes again. "I know that mark on your palm… is important. I can feel that it is rare and has a special meaning. But still, its meaning, its power, what it truly is… I can't tell you that. This is your journey, a riddle you must solve yourself." Aurelion's arm slowly lowered. Another wall. More uncertainty. A momentary hope had given way to familiar disappointment.
"But..." Roric said, his tone suddenly changing "Perhaps I can't tell you who you are... but I can show you what you might encounter in this world, what kind of powers exist." He took a decisive step towards the door. "I made you a promise. Stories of the old heroes of the North..."
He turned, a glint in his eyes Aurelion had never seen before "Instead of just telling, why not see?" He opened the door slightly "Come with me. Linnea has given her permission. I'm taking you somewhere."
Aurelion was stunned. Outside the orphanage? With Roric? To see? What did this mean? As his heart pounded in his chest, alarm bells and bells of curiosity rang simultaneously in his mind. Roric's promise was tempting, dangerously tempting. This seemed to offer much more than Linnea's controlled flow of information.
He didn't hesitate for even a moment. He shot up from his chair and darted after the Captain into the corridor. This step into the unknown could change everything. And Aurelion was more than ready for this change.