Kael glared at Zilore angrily. As a prince who grew up in luxury and esteemed cleanliness, he had carried dung for the sake of discovering his primordial power. Yet, after more than an hour of labor, his teacher casually dismissed him, saying that speed and agility were not his powers.
Furious, Kael threw the rusted pail to the ground, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring daggers at Zilore. He was about to scold the man when a pleasant voice interrupted.
"Welcome to Dusthaven, Prince Kael."
Kael immediately turned to see the man approaching them. He wasn't overly muscular nor too slender—his build was just right. He wore a lengthy robe, unbuttoned at the front, with a cloth crisscrossed around his waist, securing his loose pants in place. His sun-kissed skin glistened like honey under the sunlight, and his scholarly yet gentlemanly aura was evident as he walked toward them with a gentle smile.
