Ojero was walking down the hallways of his family's estate, his eyebrows nit in burning rage.
He roughly patted down the creases of the new tunic he had on, grumbling under his breath.
"Stupid little runt, I should go chase him down and plant my foot right up his…"
"Young Lord."
A rough voice intoned, interrupting his sentence. Turning around, he saw Sir Lancer had just exited one of the spare bedrooms, a small jewelry case in his hands.
The imposing manservant looked Ojero in the eye, being one of the few people as tall as him, a slight frown on his lips.
"It is unbecoming of an heir to the Duchy to speak in such a manner. You dishonor both your parents and your ancestors to speak such filth."
Shaking his head slightly, Sir Lancel continued.
"I would implore you to spend time in the library to study suitable synonyms that would not reflect on your standing so poorly."
The man then bowed slightly and walked past Ojero, clutching the petite box tightly.
Ojero stood there a moment, his anger having dissipated. In its place, he only felt embarrassment.
'Of everyone to catch me out, why'd it have to be Sir Lancel?'
He had a soft spot for the family butler, having been practically raised by the soft-spoken giant.
It was Sir Lancel who had taught him to think about the reasons he had behind every action he did, how to stop and think things through.
His mother might have taught him how to be knowledgeable, but it was Sir Lancel who tried to teach his wisdom to go with it.
Continuing down the hallway, Ojero descended the spiral staircase and walked out of the large double doors that marked the entrance to the manor.
The gravel courtyard greeted him, bathed in the golden glow of the Sun. A pathway of stones stretched off in front of him, leading down to the town of Guestinore.
A ring of green hedges went to the left and right of the pathway to circle the entire estate, some of the gardeners already hard at work to keep them trimmed and pristine.
Breathing in the cool summer air, he smiled and set off towards the town. He waved at any servants he passed, trying to not interrupt their work while also not wanting to be rude.
Once he was outside the hedges, the pathway began to curve down to the valley where the town sat. From here, he could make out thousands of buildings. Citizens ran through the streets, going about their daily lives.
Only a few plumes of smoke rose into the sky, all stemming from the forge district where the blacksmiths tirelessly hammered iron and copper into weapons for the war effort.
A single hut stood between Ojero and the outskirts of town.
It was made of wood with a thatch roof but had a tall stone tower attached to the side of it. At the top of the tower was an opened roof where a young man was looking over the open expanse of the Duchy, a bow and arrow held tightly in his hands.
Ojero waved up at the man but didn't receive any kind of response. He never did. The town Watchmen took their job very seriously, as any points of mana fluctuations in the area around them had to be reported immediately, or else they might not have time to prepare for the incoming swarm.
Soon he finally reached the city, fields of green giving way to both wooden and stone buildings, cobbled pathways connecting between them to allow easy travel.
People were moving in all directions, each with their own destinations in mind.
He saw carts rattling and bouncing as they rolled throughout the town, delivering goods and passengers.
Maneuvering through the busy streets, Ojero made his way towards the museum. It was one of the only marble buildings in Guestinore, being created hundreds of years ago by a Lord Magos who felt he needed a place to store his trophies.
Ojero had frequented the building since he was young. He had even built up a bit of a friendship with the curator, Mr. Dan. Of course his last name wasn't really Dan, but when he was younger he couldn't pronounce the eccentric man's real last name and so began addressing him by his first.
Mr. Dan had asked him and Orpham to meet him there by noon, which it almost was. His brother, as usual, had set off early to gain a head start. Orpham saw everything as a competition, even arriving at an appointment.
The smell of freshly baked bread drew Ojeros attention as he walked, and he spared a moment to consider if he had time to buy some as a snack. With a reluctant sigh, he continued without stopping.
Only a few minutes later he saw a youth of a similar age happily eating some delicious sugar bread and regretted his choice.
After about fifteen minutes of walking he finally reached the foot of the marble staircase that led to the museum doorway, the words "Treasury of Rare and Wondrous Things" carved above it.
Despite it being so bright out, very few people seemed to be entering the white building. It was considered a place of reverence for those who had already absorbed an element, or the youth who planned to. Anyone else would just be needlessly swept away in dreams of a life that would never be theirs.
Although adults could absorb elemental gems, the younger it happened the stronger the bond would be. As the body aged, it would grow to fight the bonding process, which could possibly kill someone.
Twenty-five was the unofficial cutoff age, with anyone older being highly discouraged from bonding even when given the chance.
Walking up the stairs and entering the museum doorway, Ojero stepped into a large atrium with a booth set in the middle. A bored-looking woman was slouched in a chair inside it, mindlessly scribbling into a notebook with a pencil. Her red hair was in a messy bun, but she still looked cute.
At least that's what Ojero had always thought.
For as long as he could remember, he had a crush on the woman, despite her being a decade older than him.
As he approached her desk his heart began to beat faster, and the smile she gave when she finally looked up and noticed him made him feel like it would explode on the spot.
"I was wondering when you would show up cabbagehead! Your brother is already in the back with the old man, head on through." She said, jutting her pencil to her left, where a long corridor was.
Worried he would mess up his words, Ojero just nodded and mindlessly walked in that direction, part of him upset she still called him that nickname.
She had given it to him when he was barely an infant due to his green eyes, and it had stuck ever since. Whenever she called him it, he felt like she still saw him as a young kid.
'Which I kind of am, compared to her at least.' He thought dejectedly.
Wandering past the exhibits, most of which were old paintings with a podium that described them, Ojero made his way to a dirty wooden door covered in peeling and chipped white paint.
Opening it, he stepped into the dusty storage of the museum and immediately noticed his brother with Mr. Dan. What was even stranger was Mr. Dan was smiling widely, something Ojero had only seen when he uncovered an especially rare shipment of items to display in the museum. Hearing the door, the elderly curator and Orpham turned to face him.
Just as he was about to greet the two of them, he paused midstep.
He had just noticed his brother's eyes were glowing yellow.