Lordaeron

At dawn the next day.

After discussing it, Bred and Daphne decided to tell Nathanos the news themselves. He gently pushed open the door and found that the little boy was already awake and dressed, sitting on a stool as though he had been waiting for him.

"Nathanos." Bred called softly. His child was looking at him without any expression on his face. "Did you know? Uncle Jonathan just told me that Lordaeron has many children like you, and they're just as clever as you are. The houses there are taller than the hills around our home, and the rivers are as clear as the Sodril River."

As Bred spoke, he became less and less able to look Nathanos in the eyes. Even Bred himself could no longer tell what he was trying to say. He wanted to tell Nathanos that he would be leaving for Lordaeron with Jonathan today, but the beloved face before him made the words impossible to speak.

"I want to go to Lordaeron."

Bred stared at him wide-eyed. "What did you say?"

"Lordaeron. I want to go," Nathanos said.

After a moment of surprise, Bred knelt before Nathanos, clasped his little hand tightly, and kissed it.

"Good boy. Go say goodbye to your mother. Uncle Jonathan will be leaving soon."

Partings were always sad, even brief ones. Daphne held Nathanos for a long time before letting him go, repeatedly telling him to listen to Uncle Jonathan. His father, Bred, gave him a small pouch containing more than a dozen copper coins.

Seated on a wagon loaded with fruit, Nathanos watched Jonathan drive while Jonathan kept an eye on his expression. The little boy was even quieter than he had imagined. Jonathan had thought Nathanos would cry and fuss because he was unaccustomed to the new environment awaiting him. He had even prepared words to comfort him, but now it seemed he had worried for nothing.

"Nathanos, Lordaeron is a thousand times livelier than Marius Farm. You'll definitely like it."

"Is Lordaeron better than home?"

Jonathan's expression changed. The question stumped him. By any practical measure, Marius Farm could not compare to Lordaeron, but having one's family by one's side was better than anything. Jonathan fell silent for a moment. His wife Sally pinched him, telling him to shut up and focus on the road.

"Don't worry, child. You won't be away from your parents for long." Sally smiled, and Nathanos seemed to see his mother in her.

Traveling west from Marius Farm meant passing through Quel'Dalar and Andorhal. Jonathan also pointed north for Nathanos and told him that Hearthglen lay there, one of Lordaeron's fortresses.

They arrived in Lordaeron around noon. Jonathan got down from the wagon and handed it over to a household. Only then did Nathanos realize it had been rented. Uncle Jonathan's family was not well-off either.

Pedestrians streamed endlessly along the streets, and the clamor made Nathanos's head spin. He pressed tightly against Aunt Sally's side and clutched her hand, his palms sweating. Sally smiled. The little boy was simply too nervous, but he would soon get used to this place and come to like it.

Jonathan could only haul the fresh fruit back to the shop by himself with a handcart. He still had to turn it all into jam today.

"We're finally here." Jonathan took a deep breath as Sally wiped his sweat with a towel. "Nathanos, rest for a while. After we eat, you'll have to meet your mentor and your future classmates."

"Mentor? Classmates?" Nathanos repeated uncertainly.

He tried hard to figure out what those two words meant. His head spun so badly that he nearly fell, but Jonathan caught him.

"You might be tired. Sit down and rest in the chair."

The little boy nodded.

That afternoon, Jonathan took Nathanos to a church three streets away from the candy shop. There, he saw even more strangely shaped buildings and finally saw the children his father had mentioned—children his own age, all accompanied by their families. The difference was that they were gathered with their friends, while Nathanos was alone.

Not long afterward, a nun emerged from the church. She wore a white robe from head to toe and carried a gem-studded staff. A swordsman followed beside her, holding a list.

"Everyone, please be quiet," the swordsman called. The noisy crowd immediately surged forward when they saw someone come out, forcing the soldiers standing guard on both sides to step in and stop them. "This is Sister Kana. She will announce the children selected for admission." The swordsman handed the list to Kana. Faced with the expectant gazes of the crowd, she went straight to the point.

"Kasha Boyard." Kana read the first name. A little girl tugged her mother's hand and eagerly called out, "I'm here." A smile hung on her face. Hearing that she had been selected was like seeing a tray of pastries.

"Gray Maynes."

The owner of that name was the child of an officer. He was much sturdier than other children his age. Standing at the back, he swaggered forward and bowed to Kana. His father was a garrison officer, and he nodded to Kana from afar. Perhaps that was how officials greeted one another.

Kana continued making announcements. More and more children received the chance to enroll, while more and more families fell into despair as fewer openings remained.

"The last one: Nathanos Maris."

Jonathan had been unable to wait any longer. He took Nathanos by the hand and led him forward, gratitude for Kana evident in his eyes. She nodded in return. When his nephew's name was called, many children began to cry, and their families comforted them gently. Such was the cruelty of competition. Every year, Lordaeron admitted many commoner students, but the selected children would undergo an aptitude assessment. Whatever talents they possessed, the state would cultivate them vigorously. For example, if a commoner child was born with innate magic, they could have a chance to become a mage apprentice. The remaining ordinary children still had one final opportunity: they would be sent in batches to churches throughout the land, where only the best would be admitted. Each church had only a dozen or so places, so the competition was fierce. The church in the old district where Kana served had the lowest threshold of them all.

"Nathanos, we have to part for a while," Jonathan said to him. "Sister Kana will show you around and help you get familiar with this place. By the rules, I can't go with you."

The little boy hesitated. His eyes showed none of the disappointment or fear Jonathan had expected, not even the slightest emotional ripple. His calmness made Jonathan somewhat afraid.

At last, he nodded.

Kana had already begun gathering the children whose names had been called. Nathanos glanced over, then voluntarily pulled his hand free from Jonathan's.

"There shouldn't be any problem." Jonathan watched his retreating back. Only then did he realize that he was the one who needed comforting most. A fear and unease he had never felt before suddenly rose in his heart. Kana had clearly noticed him. She smiled back at him and told him he could rest assured.