A New Mentor

That place was Quel'Thalas? Nathanos stared in amazement at the green patch on the map. North of the forest lay the legendary elven kingdom. He had gone there in his dream? Why?

Why not go see it for yourself? Perhaps there'll be an unexpected reward.

Those words piqued Nathanos's curiosity. The boy pursed his lips and began considering how he could reach the place he had visited in his dream. First, he would have to cross mountains and rivers, which would undoubtedly take a great deal of time. His guardian, Uncle Jonathan, certainly would not agree. Second, he would need to prepare himself for dangers like encountering trolls. At that thought, the suffocating feeling wrapped around Nathanos's heart again.

Several steady footsteps echoed through the library. The soldier who had visited before had come again. He was here to return some documents.

"What did you see this time, child?" Uther's tone carried a hint of teasing.

"You... just came from the royal palace, and you... are preparing to travel."

Rather than looking as stunned as he had the first time, the burly officer burst into laughter. "And how did you figure that out?"

"On the road from the royal palace to here, there is Lordaeron's only bakery owned by Dalaran. Their bread carries a faint taste of Elwynn Berry, and I smelled it on you. As for why you are about to travel, your boots are brand-new. Outside, I also heard more than one horse; you brought attendants. If you were merely returning books and this was not on your way, you could have had someone else wait for you at the city gate. If it was on your way, then the road outside this library ultimately leads to only one place: the city gate." Nathanos took his time finishing his explanation while Uther listened patiently. When he was done, Uther clapped and laughed, nodding again and again.

"One of my friends was promoted to lord of Hearthglen today. I was just about to go congratulate him." The paladin surveyed the spotless library for a moment, then handed Nathanos the book he had borrowed not long ago.

His expression suddenly tightened. Stroking his chin, he asked, "Can you use a bow and arrow?"

Nathanos lowered his head to look at his palms and was startled himself. Without even noticing it, clear calluses had formed on the knuckles of his right index and ring fingers.

"I..."

"Those aren't marks left by a toy bow and arrow, child." Uther smiled. "Do you want to become a hunter?"

The boy shook his head. It was not stubborn denial, but the truth.

"Then... do you think archery is fun?"

After hesitating for a moment, Nathanos nodded. Uther nodded in response, though he wore a smile that was difficult to read.

"Your name is... Nathanos Maris, correct?"

The boy nodded. Uther studied the child carefully and found that he truly was different. He had black hair, a thin frame, and most notably, unusual features. He did not have the high-bridged nose common among most people, nor were his features sharply defined. Beyond that, what Uther cared about most was Nathanos's powers of observation.

"I think we will meet again soon."

Nathanos felt that the way he ran resembled livestock fighting over food... It was certainly not an appropriate thought to have about himself, but the boy was not ashamed. In a sense, it could even be considered praise.

He coughed, his face flushed as he glanced at the blazing noon sun. Other children were probably playing by the lake during their breaks. He could have been doing the same, but...

"All pleasure is fleeting; only skill is eternal." The opening sentence of Chapter Two of Holy Light Path. Nathanos was somewhat curious what kind of person Bishop Alonsus, the author of the book, was. That famous line teaching others not to become lost in amusement had won the admiration of many.

Of course, aside from not wanting to, Nathanos was also impatient. He knew he was impatient, but he could not suppress the restlessness in his heart.

Previously, at Gudul's Blacksmith, the boy had asked the dwarf to teach him swordsmanship and archery, but Gudul had refused on the grounds of his age. Age was nothing but time. It would come eventually, so why could it not come sooner? Nathanos soon stopped relying on Gudul and began studying in secret. Much of what he wanted to learn could be found in books, from the guards patrolling the streets, and from the goods displayed in weapon shops. Yet after a year of such constant exposure, Nathanos had learned only one thing: patience. He could be anxious to master a skill, but skill itself required long periods of practice. To rein in his impatience, the boy not only devoted his energy to swords and bows, but also set aside time for physical training.

Every day held only so much time. Excluding the time he spent with Uncle Jonathan's family and studying, Nathanos could only sacrifice his breaks. Many times, he saw children chasing and playing and looked at them with envy. Yet each time, he forcibly suppressed the restlessness in his heart. Time for play was naturally precious, but having sacrificed it, Nathanos became even less willing to slack off in the slightest. He did not think himself more diligent than his peers, or even more dedicated than most children older than him. That would only breed a sense of superiority. People's appearances and features were all the same; the boy had never understood why there was a distinction between nobles and commoners.

The wilderness of Lordaeron was tranquil. The wind swept across the grasslands in rippling waves, leaving almost no sign that anyone had ever passed through. All around him, only dense thickets swayed in the summer breeze. Nathanos recognized the cry of a Sharpbeak Bird and slowly swept his gaze across the distant grassland stirring in the wind. Farther away stretched a range of rolling hills—not particularly high, yet they occupied nearly his entire field of vision, seeming impossible to go around no matter how he looked at them.

This place resembled Marius Farm so closely. Nathanos thought of his mother and father, and the persistence in his heart temporarily faded.

You don't have to meet face-to-face to express your longing. You only need to let those you miss know that you are thinking of them.