The Forsaken Heir

Lorian stood at the edge of the estate’s grand courtyard, his pack slung over one shoulder, staring at the sleek black carriage that waited for them. The cold morning air nipped at his skin, and the rising sun cast a pale glow over the grounds. The servants bustled about, loading the last of Elara’s luggage, their movements quick and efficient.

Beside him, Elara adjusted the clasp of her cloak, the blue fabric matching the soft glow of magic that always seemed to hum around her. She looked at him with an uncertain smile, her attempt to ease the tension that had lingered between them since the night before. But Lorian wasn’t in the mood for conversation. His mind was still caught up in the swirl of events that had led him here, a Shieldbearer, nothing more.

A familiar voice broke the silence.

“All set, then?” The gravelly tone belonged to Captain Aric, whose presence, even after all these years, still carried a sense of quiet authority. Lorian turned to see Aric approaching, his armor gleaming in the morning light, sword strapped to his side as usual. The sight of his mentor brought a brief surge of emotion to Lorian’s chest—a mixture of gratitude, respect, and a sting of shame. Aric, who had seen so much potential in him, who had taught him the discipline of combat and the restraint of a soldier, was now escorting him not as a future warrior, but as an attendant to his sister.

Lorian nodded but didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure what he could say that wouldn’t feel hollow.

Elara, sensing the shift in the air, smiled warmly at Captain Aric. “Thank you for coming with us, Captain Thorne. I’m sure the journey will be safer with you by our side.”

Captain Thorne gave her a slight bow, the faintest of smiles crossing his weathered face. “It’s my duty, Lady Elara. Your father would expect nothing less.” Then his eyes flicked to Lorian, and the smile faded. “And I’m here to make sure both of you arrive safely.”

Lorian swallowed, feeling the weight of Aric’s gaze. He knew that the captain’s words carried more than a sense of duty—they carried expectation. But the words that followed were not harsh, merely steady.

“You’ve got your gear?” Aric asked, his voice softening slightly for Lorian.

Lorian patted the pack at his side, nodding. “Everything I need.”

“Good.” Aric’s tone softened even further. “This isn’t just about escorting your sister, Lorian. You may not be there for the Grand Melee, but you’ve still got a role to play. Don’t forget that.”

Lorian’s jaw tightened. The reminder of the Grand Melee stung, but Aric’s words carried a deeper meaning. He wasn’t just telling Lorian to fulfill his duty as Shieldbearer. He was reminding him that there was always a chance to prove himself, no matter the circumstances.

The carriage driver called out, signaling that it was time to depart. Lorian gave Aric a curt nod, then climbed into the carriage after Elara. Captain Aric mounted his horse, positioning himself beside the carriage as their escort, a silent guardian.

The carriage rolled steadily along the road leading away from Aelshire, the rhythmic clatter of hooves and wheels the only consistent sound as the morning sun climbed higher into the sky. Inside, the tension between Lorian and Elara was palpable, though Elara seemed determined to cut through it.

She fidgeted with her cloak, her eyes flicking between the window and Lorian, who sat across from her with his arms crossed, staring blankly out at the landscape. The silence stretched on for a while before she finally broke it.

“It’s a nice day,” she said, her tone light, almost hopeful.

“Mm,” Lorian muttered, not bothering to look at her.

Undeterred, Elara shifted in her seat and tried again. “The roads look clear. Should be a smooth trip to Valeria.”

“Yeah.”

She sighed softly, her fingers brushing the edge of her cloak as she searched for something else to say. “You know,” she started, “I hear the academy’s halls are massive. The library is supposed to have a collection of magical texts that’s unrivaled in the entire kingdom. Maybe we’ll have time to explore.”

Lorian gave her a short, uninterested nod. “Maybe.”

Elara’s patience, always thinner than she liked to admit, was beginning to wear. She leaned forward slightly, her expression one of growing frustration. “Lorian, you could at least pretend to be interested.”

He finally turned his head to look at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you want me to say, Elara? That I’m excited to be your personal guard? That I’m thrilled to sit in the background while you’re at the academy?”

Elara’s face fell, her frustration fading into a hurt expression. “That’s not what I’m asking for. I just—” she hesitated, searching for the right words. “I just don’t want us to spend the entire journey like this. I don’t want it to be awkward.”

Lorian clenched his jaw, a twinge of guilt creeping in. He hadn’t meant to snap at her. But the truth was, he didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to be trapped in this small space, pretending everything was fine.

With a sigh, he pushed himself up from his seat. “I need some air.”

Before Elara could protest, he pulled open the door of the carriage and stepped out, carefully moving around to the back where a narrow bench was mounted for servants or guards. He sat down heavily, the wind immediately brushing against his face, and the sound of hooves and wheels much louder here.

The openness felt better. The air was fresher out here, and he didn’t have to face Elara’s questioning eyes.

Lorian hadn’t been outside for more than a few minutes when Captain Aric, ever observant, glanced back from his position riding alongside the carriage. His eyes met Lorian’s, and for a moment, no words were exchanged. But Lorian knew Aric well enough to see the unspoken question in his gaze.

With a sigh, Lorian gestured for Aric to come over.

Aric steered his horse closer to the rear of the carriage, his expression calm but curious. “Couldn’t stand the company inside?” he asked, his voice laced with quiet humor.

Lorian gave a half-smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just needed some air.”

Aric studied him for a moment before responding. “You know, it’s alright to feel how you’re feeling, Lorian. But don’t shut her out. She’s trying.”

Lorian glanced at the captain, then out toward the passing trees. “I know she is. I just… I don’t know what to say.”

Aric’s brow furrowed slightly, though his tone remained neutral. “She’s not asking you for all the answers. Sometimes, just talking—about anything—is enough.”

Lorian sighed and nodded, but he didn’t feel ready to go back inside just yet. “Maybe later.”

Aric didn’t press the issue. Instead, he simply nodded and gave Lorian a brief pat on the shoulder. “Take your time. But don’t hide forever.”

Aric spoke again, but with his voice dropping into a more serious tone. “You’ve been awfully quiet since the night at the tavern.”

Lorian stiffened slightly, his grip tightening on the edge of the bench. He hadn’t told Aric everything—hadn’t told anyone, really. Not about the scarred man. Not about how it felt when his mana surged uncontrollably, fueled by instinct and fear.

“From what I heard,” Aric continued, “you seriously injured a man. Thaddeus was livid.”

Lorian nodded, staring ahead. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off, unsure of how to explain the feeling of raw power he’d experienced that night. “I lost control.”

Aric’s gaze stayed steady, and he waited a moment before responding. “Your mana reacted on instinct. But you need to understand, Lorian—control isn’t just about holding back. It’s about knowing when and how to release that power.”

Lorian looked down at his hands. “I didn’t have a choice. Caelan was about to be killed. The man had a knife, and I knew I wouldn’t reach him in time.” His voice grew quieter. “I used my mana. I didn’t think—I just acted.”

There was a silence between them as Aric processed what Lorian had said. When he spoke again, his voice was calm but firm. “You saved your friend’s life. But that doesn’t mean you can afford to be reckless with your power. Uncontrolled mana can be just as dangerous as any sword.”

Lorian swallowed hard. “I know. But I’ve spent so long focusing on my swordplay that my mana… it’s never felt right. Like I can’t fully control it.”

Aric gave a slow nod, understanding the weight of Lorian’s struggle. “You’ve trained your body for years. You know how to wield a sword because you’ve spent countless hours mastering it. Mana is the same—it requires practice, patience. But most importantly, it requires control.”

Lorian’s jaw clenched as he thought back to the tavern. “And now, instead of fighting in the Grand Melee, I’m going to Valeria as Elara’s Shieldbearer. My father’s way of punishing me for losing control.”

Aric’s brow furrowed slightly. “Thaddeus may see it that way, but your role isn’t just to stand in your sister’s shadow. Being a Shieldbearer means more than just protecting someone physically—it’s about ensuring their success, their future.”

Lorian snorted softly, the bitterness creeping into his voice. “So, I get to be her shadow. Great.”

“No,” Aric said, his voice firm. “You’re not her shadow. You’re her Shieldbearer—a guardian. That’s a position of strength, not weakness. You’re not there to hide behind her; you’re there to stand beside her.”

Lorian looked away, his frustration simmering. He hadn’t wanted this. He wanted to prove himself in the Grand Melee, not be relegated to serving his sister’s ambitions.

Aric seemed to sense the conflict within him. “I won’t lie to you, Lorian—it’s not the path you wanted. But it’s still a path worth walking. And if you can learn to control your mana, to harness it alongside your sword, then there’s nothing that can stop you. Not even Thaddeus.”

As Aric returned to his position at the front of the group, Lorian turned his attention to their surroundings. They weren’t traveling alone. At least five additional guards rode ahead and behind the carriage, their presence meant to ensure the safety of both Lorian and Elara on the road. Though they were traveling through relatively peaceful lands, the road to Valeria was long, and threats could arise from anywhere—a bandit attack, wild beasts, or, worse, those looking to make a statement by targeting the Aeloria family.

The carriage rocked gently as they continued along the winding road that stretched through the vast countryside. The forests of Aelshire were now behind them, replaced by rolling fields and the occasional village dotting the horizon. The group moved at a steady pace, but the journey would take at least two to three days by carriage. Nights would be spent camping, a prospect that left Lorian feeling both restless and apprehensive.

By late afternoon, the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows across the road. As they approached a suitable clearing just off the path, Aric raised his hand, signaling the group to halt. The horses slowed to a stop, their breaths puffing softly in the cooling air as the guards dismounted and began preparing to make camp.

Aric’s voice rang out clearly as he issued orders. “Alaric, Rydan, sweep the perimeter. We don’t want any surprises.”

The two guards nodded, already heading off into the trees with their hands resting casually on their weapons.

“Riana, get the fire started,” Aric continued. “We need it going before dark settles in.”

Riana moved quickly to gather wood, while the others began unloading supplies. Aric turned to Lorian with the same steady expression as before. “You’re on tent duty. Let’s get them up before we lose the light.”

Lorian nodded wordlessly, moving to help unload the tents. The physical labor was a welcome distraction, something to keep his mind off the weight that had been pressing down on him ever since they left Aelshire. The repetitive motion of staking down the tents, of pulling the ropes tight, allowed him to focus on the task at hand, rather than the uncertainty of the journey ahead.

The camp soon took shape. A fire crackled in the center of the clearing, its warmth spreading out into the cool evening air. The guards took up their positions, and Elara retreated to her tent, exhausted from the day’s travel.

Lorian finished securing the last tent and stood by the fire, watching the flames flicker and dance. The sky above had darkened into twilight, the stars just beginning to blink into view. It felt peaceful, the kind of quiet that was typical on these long journeys.

Aric stood nearby, arms crossed as he surveyed the camp. The guards had taken their shifts for the night watch, and everything seemed in order. Lorian sank down onto a fallen log, his muscles aching from the day’s work.

The woods surrounding the clearing were still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves as the wind moved gently through the trees. It was calm, almost too calm.

Lorian didn’t notice anything unusual, just the familiar sounds of the night settling in. The soft hoot of an owl in the distance, the crackling of the fire, the rhythmic sounds of the guards moving about. The subtle shift in the wind, the faint rustle deeper within the trees, passed unnoticed by the group. The evening felt ordinary, just another night on the road to Valeria.

Yet, beyond the reach of the firelight, something watched.