By the time the sun set, Calun’s injury was fully healed. After taking off the bandages, the only indicator of the injury was his bloodied clothes. It was as if the wound was never there.

“Lord Calun.” There was the sound of footsteps outside as a soldier reported to him. “Lord Klaes has returned.”

Inside his own tent, Calun glanced at the artifact he was working on before setting it down. With nothing to do, he had occupied himself with engraving objects while ‘resting.’

A small bronze lamp that was on the floor lit up the tent with, one of the luxuries he was afforded as a noble. Its warm glow disappeared as the candle was snuffed out and its clasp shuttered.

He stood up and opened the flap of the tent. “Let’s go then.”

Outside, the sky was dyed a mixture of blue and orange, half-moon hanging above while the sun was still on the horizon. In the distance, he could see wisps of smoke rising from the remains of the bandit camps after the huts had been burned down.

A group of soldiers marched into the camp before ushering the new prisoners into the clearing where the bandits were being detained. Surrounded by soldiers and with wrists bound by ropes, the chances of them escaping were basically none. 

One of the groups, headed by a vice captain that Calun didn’t know, had already arrived an hour earlier. At that time, he tended to some of the returning soldiers' injuries, but ran out of mana yet again. The enchanted equipment that he was working on was one that improved mana recovery, but it was still far from finished.

The person leading the soldier’s procession from atop a horse came to a halt.

Calun looked up at Klaes, whose figure was outlined by the setting sun. Despite his scarlet painted clothes and bloodied sword, he himself seemed uninjured. He stepped off the saddle and handed the reins to one of the guards before moving to clap Calun on the shoulder, but paused midair, as if remembering something.

Calun clasped the arm that was hesitating awkwardly in a greeting. “Welcome back.”

“Mn. How’s your shoulder?”

“Good. The bandits?”

“Taken care of. We can head back tomorrow.”

“Alright.”

And just like that, their conversation came to a standstill. For Klaes, the whole purpose of the expedition was to gain Calun’s loyalty. The last thing he wanted was another lecture from the Viscount. He’d been excited to demonstrate his strength in battle. But now, he felt a sliver of guilt when faced with this brother of his that’d left the safety of the city walls and only got stabbed as a result.

“I didn’t know you could use healing magic.” Klaes tried to find a topic before the silence grew any longer. He wasn’t sure, but it seemed Calun's eyes became more interested at his words, so he continued on.

“That old geezer always cheated us since no one else knew how to use healing magic, but now, we have you here.” He emphasized the second half of his sentence.

An amused expression flitted across on Calun’s face. “That ‘old geezer’ was the one that taught me in the first place.”

Klaes paused. “Oh.”

There was a short laugh. “He does tend to overcharge though. He said there weren’t as many people making donations as before.”

Around the campfires that lit up the night, soldiers had already begun eating and drinking merrily, the scent of roasted meat and cheap liquor filling the forest. 

Heading over to a certain group of soldiers while waving, Klaes asked. “I haven’t introduced you to Vice Captain Moren yet, right?”

Calun shook his head. “No, but I spoke to him earlier when his group returned.”

A few of the soldiers had been injured and he wasn’t adverse towards an opportunity to raise his reputation some more. If the deference Calun received before was only because of his status as a noble, then the respectful gazes turned towards him now were sincere. Even so, Calun knew that sincerity was as fragile as the ice on a glass panel, that it wasn’t a dependable power.

White hair is a symbol of pure faith. A hundred golden coins. The spell, Silver Bolt.

Whether it be religion, wealth, or magic, there were many ways to become powerful. Klaes was a person that relied on physical strength to gain power and authority. It was the reason why he was so favored by the Viscount.

However, he didn’t plan on following the same path as his older brother and father.

Calun’s eyes swept over the campsite, over the prisoners, over the soldiers, over his brother Klaes. He shook the hand of the vice captain whose breath already begun to smell of alcohol.

“Vice Captain Moren, I don’t believe I’ve properly introduced myself yet. I am the third child of Viscount Ermius-”

 

Calun Epsilon Ermius.

-

“Here’s the money for this week.” Leon handed the bag of coins to the youth sitting at the desk. “Master was busy today, so he asked me to come in his place.”

“Thanks,” The youth, Elliot, answered. “You should visit more often. Your sister misses you.”

After visiting the temple priest that night, he and his sister went to the orphanage and were taken in by the old grandmother. The next day, the Lord had arrived, and Leon had pleaded to work for him to return the favor. He ended up as the Lord’s attendant, while his sister stayed behind with the rest of the children.

Leon nodded vigorously. “I know, but I have to practice more to get stronger, otherwise Master will be disappointed.”

“Master won’t be disappointed in you. He’s not that kind of person.” Elliot replied. Despite his words though, he continued to concentrate on the book in front of him.

Elliot was the other person that the Lord had selected among the orphanage children. While Leon was still learning how to read and write, the person in front had already started learning mathematics. It wasn’t that Leon was slow, in fact, he learned faster than most of the other children. It was just that Elliot left everyone else far behind by comparison.

Leon struggled to read the title of the book in the boy’s hands. “Numeric… Numerical approach to… err…”

“Numerical Approach to Agricultural Output.”

“Whatever.” Leon scoffed before pausing. “Didn’t you finish this one already?”

“Mn.” Elliot turned another page. “I’ve finished them all, so I’m reading them again.”

Leon’s eyes widened in shock. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. It closed, then opened again

“You…”

“Yes?”

“...Are you planning to stay indoors all day?”

“Why not? Master does.”

Leon was speechless. “Don’t you want to learn how to use a sword?”

“No, I don’t.” Elliot looked up from the book to glare at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the barracks right now?”

Outside, the sun had already passed its zenith. At Calun’s recommendation, Leon had begun taking lessons in sword fighting from one of the vice captains. He was supposed to be at the barracks by noon, and the barracks wasn’t at all close to the orphanage.

“Shit!” Leon bolted out of the study in a panic, golden hair in a mess.

Back in the room, Elliot shook his head and sighed. Opening the bag of coins, he began to count them. Although he felt it unnecessary at first, Calun had lectured him about the importance of being meticulous when keeping records. He didn’t know why the Lord gave him perplexing books to study or why he was entrusted with handling the coins, but he was determined to not let him down.

The children were able to eat two meals a day, and the old grandmother no longer had to stay up weaving until the wee hours of dawn to ensure they didn’t go hungry. Their worn out bedding and clothes had been replaced, and the pantry was no longer always empty. Elliot firmly believed that following the Lord was not a choice he would regret.

Unlike most of the children who were locals taken in by the orphanage, Elliot was a refugee. When he was only a few years old, his stepmother had taken him and a few servants and fled. The journey was harsh, and by the time they arrived at Larmes, only he and his stepmother were left. A few years later, during a cold winter day, his stepmother went out to find work but never came back. Thus, he was lost and alone. Eventually, he found himself at the orphanage, surrounded by other children that were abandoned or had lost their parents.

Time had made his memory fuzzy and he was unable to recall earlier memories of where he had come from or why they had to flee, but the impression of hunger and fear during that time pervaded his dreams even now.

Outside, the sound of footsteps running and children talking could be heard through the door as the afternoon meal was served. Elliot finished counting the coins and stashed them under the floorboards after recording the amount in a tax book.

At that time, he had been powerless, only able to watch as his stepmother worked laboriously, only able to earn enough to feed a single person.

Leaving the study, he headed to the dining hall where the old grandmother was busy serving the chattering kids. Even though it was chaotic and noisier than ever, it was impossible to miss the smile on her face.

The past was over and reminiscing about regrets never helped the future. He went over to the kitchen and began to help serve meals along with several of the older kids. He had been powerless back then and couldn’t do anything back then, but that was no longer the case.

 

This orphanage, like a bubble of happiness, was a haven he wanted so desperately to protect.