Mirefield, Starting day of the expedition to Tredor Academy.
"Our town, as you know, is called Mirefield and is on the outskirts of our wonderful kingdom of Tredor. Ancesea, our capital city, home of our amazing Tredor Academy would take you around 2 weeks barefoot, one week on a carriage. Luckily our generous kingdom lends public carriages for anyone who decides to join the academy. The teacher whose name I didn't spend time memorizing slaps his stick on the map and makes a back and forth motion between our small town of Mirefield and our "glorious" capital of Ancesea."We even lend soldiers to protect your weak asses from any monsters or bandits on your way there, which let me remind you is TODAY, so don't forget to pack your belongings and be at the town walls by nightfall."
Our asshole of a teacher kindly reminds us. Well, not us as I am currently on the roof of the lecture room and illegally listening in to the history lesson. Technically I'm committing Treason as I could be a "spy" but they could fuck themselves on a wooden sword, I was born and raised here in Mire, and being a defect by birth shouldn't deny me an education. I write down how long it'll take to get to Ancesea in my notebook, cursing as my pencil breaks. 'Whatever, the lesson is about to finish anyway.' I internally murmur as I silently run across the rooftops back to the blacksmith I live and work at, my anger rising as I see the oppression people like me have to live and work in, just because we got the short stick of the birth pool as I jump from roof to roof back home. After exactly 10 minutes of freerunning, I finally arrived home. I carefully climb down to ground level, well aware I have no element for me to rely on. The familiar sound of a bell chime signals my entry as I observe that no one's here, which is rather surprising as tonight is the expedition to Tredor Academy, I would have assumed someone would be buying last-second equipment. I quickly head to Aramid's room, happy to see him quietly asleep. I head to my room, putting my notes in my backpack and triple-checking I have everything I need for the trip to Ancesea.
I polish and sharpen my trusty *sword breaker, which I forged myself for my 15th birthday, whom I decided to call Slum's Vengeance, its name engraved into the blade. Satisfied with its sharpness and shine, I put Slum's Vengeance back into it's sheathe. I take out my tomahawk, made with a mixture of steel and my blood, not only giving it a sliver-dark red color but also making it a base for the inactive mana in my blood to activate. Since defective mana like mine takes twice as much blood to activate, only air magic is used, giving it the ability to fly back my hand, like a boomerang. I have no way of channeling and perfecting my mana, so my element is weaker than a beginner magic-user. After sharpening it I put the tomahawk in its belt loop and look at the most expensive thing I own, my white trenchcoat. A white trenchcoat on its own wouldn't be expensive, but the air, water, and fire runes used to wash, clean, and dry the coat in seconds jack the price sky fucking high. I would have never been able to imagine owning something like this in my pitiful excuse of a wardrobe, but lady luck shined upon me in the form of an infamous bank heist a few months back, giving me the funds for not only the trenchcoat but two notebooks filled to the brim with notes, my now broken pencil, and basic runesmithing tools. The rest of my loot consists of a backpack, five vitals, three empty, and two filled with my blood in case I need to restock on my emergency, experimental air runes. The rest of my backpack is filled with the basics, food, water, etc.
Once I'm done checking my inventory, I spare a peek at the window and estimate around 5 hours till nightfall, so I decided to finish my exercise quota for the day, and then spend the rest of the 5 hours forging as many orders I can as a thank you for Aramid, who let me sleep and work here, and taught me everything I know about blacksmithing. I take my shirt off and stare at my muscular figure, 'Not strong enough' says the voices in my head, forever taunting me for a weakness I never asked for. "Not strong enough" I echo, forcing my already aching body to suffer more.
--Aramid's POV--
I wake to the familiar sound of someone crashing of exhaustion. "This kid" I murmur as I clothe myself. I quietly walk towards Ruak's room and open the door slightly ajar, welcomed with the sight of Ruak collapsed in a pool of his sweat, trying and failing to get up off the floor, the word "weak" flowing like a fountain from his mouth. 'He's already so muscular, fuck he's on par with most soldiers here when it comes to his workout routine, why is he pushing himself so hard? Is it because he's a defect?' I wonder as after three attempts he finally gets himself into a pushup. "550" He gasps as he collapses once more. I can't stand to see the kid like this so I enter the room, Ruak doesn't even notice me, showing even more that he pushed his limit two-fold. I enter the room kneel next to his exhausted body "Kid I know your leaving today and you want to get ready, but this regiment is borderline insanity." I say, worry adamant in my voice. My appearance snaps him out of his trance, not before I saw a glance of his eyes, eyes are the "gateway to the soul" right? So why do his eyes only show so much rage? So much sorrow? Where's the happiness? The Joy? Ruak snaps back to his usual self in not even a second, all of that pain, sorrow, and bloodlust locked away faster than a blink of an eye. Regret crashes into me like waves, why haven't I noticed this sooner? If he was a son to me why didn't I find out?
"Alright, I'll wash up and get back to forging until nightfall, there are maybe two hours left anyway" He replies, snapping me out of it. "Forge? Kid, you gotta fucking rest! You can't even stand straight, let alone forge in this condition! Once you're able to stand up straight and walk, wash up and get ready to head to the city walls, no harm in being early or stocking on food or getting some actual food in before the trip, and this is an order. Understand? Here some coins, enough for the week outdoors" My tone implies no room for discussion as I toss a pouch of coins on his bed. "Yes Sir" He replies, his tone perfectly neutral, perfected by years of biting his tongue to the ones higher in the system. I leave the room and close the door, regret lashing like a whip on my already scarred, battered body.
--End of Aramid's POV--
'Well if Armaid's forcing me' I murmur as I pack everything up, sheathing Slum's Vengeance on my hip, and put my tomahawk on my belt loop. I put my trenchcoat and my backpack on, heading out for the market district.
*If you're confused on what a sword breaker is, here's a forged in fire video on it-https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wYLZ9xzPlaw
'' is inner thoughts, ""-Actual dialogue.