The early morning sun crept over the village of Eldenwood, casting long shadows across the fields. Kael sat by the riverbank, absently tossing pebbles into the slow-moving water. The ring was gone, thrown into the river the night before, and the robe was nothing more than ash in the fireplace. But the weight of everything that had happened still hung heavily on his shoulders.
He had never felt so powerless.
The corpse in the forest, the argument with his parents—it all had left him with a gnawing sense of helplessness. He had thought he was doing something bold, something daring, but instead, he'd been reminded just how small and weak he truly was. His whole life, he had been confined to Eldenwood, a quiet little village where the biggest concern was whether the crops would survive the summer heat.
Out there, beyond the trees, people like the man in the forest lived lives he couldn't even imagine—dangerous lives, filled with risks and rewards that made his own life seem like a shadow. Kael clenched his fists, frustration bubbling up inside him. He was tired of feeling weak, tired of feeling like he had no control over anything.
Maybe he couldn't change the world. But he could at least start by changing himself.
That's when the thought struck him.
"I need to learn how to fight," he muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing with sudden determination.
If he could at least defend himself, maybe he wouldn't feel so powerless. Maybe he wouldn't feel like he was at the mercy of things beyond his control. And if he learned to fight, he could protect his family too—keep them safe from whatever dangers lurked beyond the borders of Eldenwood.
Without waiting another moment, Kael stood up and marched back toward the house, his mind set. His father was already in the fields, his back bent as he tended to the crops. Kael felt a surge of determination as he approached, though a part of him dreaded the conversation ahead.
Ronan looked up as Kael approached, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Morning, son. Feeling better after yesterday?" he asked, his voice neutral. Kael could sense that the tension from last night had eased, but the unspoken weight of their argument still lingered in the air.
Kael took a deep breath. "I need to learn how to fight."
Ronan raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard. "Fight? What do you mean, fight?"
"You know, defend myself," Kael clarified. "After everything that happened, I realized how weak I am. If something worse were to happen—if someone came here, or if I got caught up in something dangerous—I wouldn't be able to do anything. I don't want to feel helpless anymore."
Ronan stared at him for a long moment, his brow furrowing as he seemed to mull over Kael's words. "Learning to fight won't solve all your problems, Kael," he said slowly. "It's not as simple as picking up a sword and suddenly becoming strong. You've got to understand when to fight, why to fight, and if it's even worth it."
"I know that," Kael replied, though in truth, he wasn't entirely sure. He just knew he needed to start somewhere. "But I need to start somewhere, right? I'm not asking for much. Just teach me the basics. Please."
Ronan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You really want this, don't you?"
Kael nodded, his expression firm. "I do."
There was another pause as Ronan considered, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing the pros and cons in his mind. Finally, he sighed again and nodded. "Alright, fine. I'll teach you. But you've got to pull your weight around here first. You help me in the fields for three hours longer every day, and I'll train you in the mornings before we start. Deal?"
Kael blinked. "Three hours longer?"
Ronan grinned, the familiar twinkle of mischief returning to his eyes. "You want to get stronger, don't you? Well, working in the fields will help build your strength and endurance. You'll need that for fighting. Think of it as part of your training."
Kael groaned inwardly. Of course his father would find a way to rope him into more farm work. But he couldn't argue. "Fine," he muttered. "Three hours longer."
Ronan clapped him on the shoulder. "Good lad. Besides, you would've learned how to fight sooner or later. I was planning to teach you anyway. After all, every boy in this village learns how to defend themselves at some point."
Kael froze, his mouth hanging open. "Wait... what? You were going to teach me anyway?"
Ronan chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "Of course! It's a tradition. Every father teaches his son how to fight. But since you were so eager to learn, I figured I'd let you ask first. And now I get a bit more help in the fields too. Smart deal, don't you think?"
Kael's jaw tightened, his frustration bubbling over. "You played me!"
Ronan's grin widened. "Think of it as a lesson in strategy, Kael. Not all battles are fought with swords. Sometimes, the best way to win is to get the other guy to agree to what you wanted in the first place."
Kael could only stare at his father, torn between feeling impressed and utterly annoyed. He wanted to be angry, but a part of him couldn't help but laugh at how he had walked right into it. His father had outmaneuvered him in the simplest way possible, and now he was stuck with even more work.
"Great," Kael muttered under his breath, trying to hide his grin. "I'm learning fighting and how to get tricked in one go."
"That's the spirit!" Ronan said with a laugh. "Now, you'd better get ready. We start training tomorrow morning, bright and early. And don't forget—you owe me three extra hours in the field every day."
As Kael walked back toward the house, his head still spinning from the conversation, he realized that even though his father had played him, he had gotten what he wanted. He was going to learn how to fight. It wasn't the adventure he had imagined, but it was a start. And as frustrating as his father could be, at least he was right about one thing.
This was only the beginning.