ocean-life The Preparation Begins
The Preparation Begins
The village slumbered beneath the watchful glow of the twin moons, but sleep eluded Alhan. He stood at the edge of his world, staring into the vast unknown beyond the fields and forests he had always called home. The proclamation had set his soul ablaze; now, he had two weeks. Two weeks to prepare, train, and find a way to cross the great expanse separating his quiet life from the academy that could change everything.
Though quick-witted and fleet-footed, Alhan knew he was no warrior. His wooden spear had seen more play than battle, and the spars of the village boys were a far cry from the tests that awaited him. He needed a master, and so he sought out one man who could teach him—Master Edrik, the village's retired hunter, a man as sharp as the daggers he carried.
"You want to make the journey alone?" Edrik scoffed, running a whetstone along his blade. "Foolish. But if you're set on it, best learn to defend yourself properly."
The training was merciless. Before the first rays of dawn, Alhan was up, mimicking Edrik's swift knife strikes, learning the precision of movement, the art of striking only when necessary. By day, he pushed his body to its limits, running through the dense woodlands, climbing rock faces, testing his endurance against the wild. By night, when the village lights dimmed, he trained with his wooden blade beneath the stars, his hands raw, his muscles burning—but his determination unyielding.
Strength alone would not carry him through the trials ahead. Alhan had always been drawn to knowledge; now, it would be his greatest weapon. He spent hours poring over the elders' worn tomes, memorizing maps of the Dukedom and marking roads both safe and treacherous. He studied the creatures of the land, learning which beasts to avoid and which plants could mend wounds or bring sickness.
At the village market, he listened keenly to the chatter of passing travelers, picking out vital details hidden in idle conversation. Which roads were plagued by bandits? Which villages might offer shelter to a lone traveler? The journey would test not just his body but his mind.
Wealth had never been abundant in his household, and a boy from the baron's lands could not afford the luxury of an escort. Every copper he had saved went toward securing the essentials—dried rations that would last the long trek, a sturdy cloak to guard against the elements, and a pair of boots tough enough to endure the unyielding road ahead. He bartered his labor where coin failed him, chopping wood, carrying goods, anything to secure what he needed.
His weapons were humble, yet each carried a story. A small dagger, gifted to him by Edrik after proving his dedication to training, would be his last line of defense. A round wooden shield, reforged from old scraps by the village blacksmith, would grant him protection against both beasts and blades. And lastly, his spear—the only thing he had possessed the day the orphanage took him in. Unlike any ordinary weapon, it never rusted, dulled, or gathered filth, nor did it need sharpening. Its shaft was wrapped in a coiled black lightning bolt, encircling it five times, an eerie mark of unknown origin. Despite its extraordinary qualities, it bore no crest, offering no clue to its history. A mystery left unanswered, a piece of his past yet unveiled. Now, it would be the weapon he carried into the unknown.
The final item he packed held no material value but meant everything to him—his mother's pendant. It was a fragment of polished stone set in silver, worn by time yet still gleaming in the light. She had passed when he was young, her face a blur in his memory, but this token was a whisper of the past he still longed to understand.
Yet, one obstacle remained—his lack of a mount. The journey to the Dukedom of Varethorne was long, and traveling on foot would be perilous. Fortune, however, came in the form of a favor. His orphanage mother, the kind woman who had raised him, spoke on his behalf to the village chief, calling in an old debt. And so, Alhan found himself standing before the chief's stables, granted a chance to tame a mount.
Mounts were not mere animals nor akin to the beasts that roamed the wild. In Aethoria, beasts were creatures of raw elemental force, bound to the will of those who could master them—beast tamers. Beasts were power incarnate, capable of devastation, and bound by the magic of their summoners. Mounts, however, were different. They were loyal companions, creatures of endurance and resilience bred to serve as partners for those who dared to tread the world's harsh roads. Unlike beasts, mounts did not require mastery over magic or elemental control. Instead, they forged a bond between rider and steed.
The beasts before him were strong, stubborn creatures, unused to new riders. He would have to earn one's trust to prove himself worthy. It would not be easy, but nothing about this journey was meant to be.
As Alhan stepped into the stables, the familiar and comforting scent of hay and leather enveloped him. The village chief's stablemaster, a gruff but kind-eyed man named Thorne, nodded in greeting.
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"Ah, young Alhan. Here to choose a mount, I reckon?"
Thorne grinned. "Ah, I think that's a yes. Shadow's chosen you, Alhan."
As Thorne spoke, the air around Alhan and Shadow began to shimmer and glow, a soft blue light enveloping them. Alhan felt a strange sensation as if his soul was bound to Shadows.
The light grew brighter, and Alhan felt himself drawn into a vision of him and Shadow riding across the plains, the wind in their hair, the sun on their faces.
As the vision faded, Alhan found himself in the stable, Shadow standing beside him, her eyes gleaming with fierce loyalty.
Thorne nodded in approval. "Ah, the bonding procedure is complete. You and Shadow are now contracted, Alhan. She'll be your loyal companion, mount, and friend."
Alhan grinned, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment. He knew he and Shadow would face many challenges together, but he was ready. He was prepared to ride into the unknown with Shadow by his side. Thorne smiled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah, congratulations, Alhan! You've successfully contracted Shadow, which is a fine mount indeed. But, as you know, a person can only contract a maximum of five mounts simultaneously. Which means you've got four more mount slots available to you."
Alhan's eyes widened in surprise. "Four more? That's amazing!"
Thorne nodded. "Yes, indeed it is. And, as your stable master, I've got a special gift for you. This scroll," Thorne handed Alhan a small, intricately designed scroll, "is a Mount Housing Scroll. It's a rare item that allows you to store two mounts, freeing up space in your stables and making it easier to travel with them."
Alhan's eyes scanned the scroll, marveling at the intricate runes and symbols etched into its surface. "This is incredible! Thank you, Thorne!"
Thorne smiled. "You're welcome, Alhan. You'll find it very useful. And, it would be wise to use this scroll to house Shadow and perhaps a flying mount if you can contact one. Flying mounts are rare and valuable but can be instrumental in certain situations."
Alhan's eyes lit up with excitement. "A flying mount? That would be amazing! I'll keep an eye out for one."
With a solemn gaze, Thorne nodded. "Alhan, keep in mind that getting a mount entails significant responsibilities. Make sure you're prepared for the difficulties that will arise. And never forget that amount is a friend and a partner, not just a tool or a companion.
Alhan stood at the outskirts of the village the night before he left, the wind blowing the earthy and rainy aroma from a distance. The unknown was beyond the hills. Doubt had no place in his heart, even if the path was dangerous and full of trials he could not yet fathom.
The entire world was in anticipation.
He was prepared to face it.