The next day dawned gray and overcast, the sky mirroring Eran's mood. He had spent the night replaying Mia's words in his head—words that stung because of their truth. Nobles and merchants had hoarded wealth and power, leaving people like Mia and Sam to scrape by on scraps. And now, he was one of them: a powerless commoner, struggling to survive.
Mia and Sam were already awake when he emerged from the small shed where they had hidden for the night. Sam greeted him with a grin, while Mia barely acknowledged his presence.
"We're heading to the market," Mia said, stuffing a small dagger into her belt. "Try not to do anything stupid."
Eran followed them as they navigated the winding streets. The village was bustling again, vendors hawking their goods, farmers unloading carts, and guards patrolling with a casual arrogance that set Eran's teeth on edge. He noticed how Mia and Sam moved through the crowd like shadows, avoiding attention with practiced ease.
Mia stopped near a fruit stall, her eyes scanning the wares. "You want to eat today? Prove you're not useless."
Eran frowned. "You want me to steal?"
"No, I want you to sing for your supper," Mia said sarcastically. "Of course, I want you to steal. Just grab something small and don't get caught."
Eran hesitated. As a duke, he had always condemned thieves. Now, he was being asked to become one. But his growling stomach and the accusing look in Mia's eyes left him no choice.
Taking a deep breath, Eran approached the stall. He reached for an apple when the vendor turned to help another customer. His hand trembled slightly as he tucked it into his pocket and walked away.
But his movements were too clumsy, and the vendor's sharp eyes caught him.
"Hey! Thief!" the man shouted, pointing at Eran.
Before he could react, a guard grabbed his arm and yanked him back.
"Well, what do we have here?" the guard sneered. "A filthy little thief."
Eran struggled, but the guard's grip was iron. Within moments, he was dragged into the town square, where a small crowd gathered to watch. Mia and Sam were nowhere to be seen—they had disappeared the moment trouble started.
The vendor waved the stolen apple in front of Eran. "Caught red-handed, this one. Teach him a lesson!"
Eran's face burned with humiliation. He, who had once commanded armies and dined with kings, was now being paraded as a common thief.
The guard raised his club, and Eran braced himself for the blow. But just before it landed, a voice cut through the crowd.
"Wait!"
An old man stepped forward, his long robes marking him as someone of importance. His beard was white as snow, and his eyes were sharp with intelligence.
"What's going on here?" the man asked.
"Just a thief, Master Hal," the guard replied. "Nothing worth your attention."
Hal frowned, studying Eran with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. "And what was he stealing?"
"An apple," the vendor said, holding it up as if it were a priceless treasure.
Hal's lips twitched in amusement. "An apple. Truly, a crime worthy of such spectacle." He turned to the vendor. "I'll pay for the apple. Let the boy go."
The vendor hesitated but nodded grudgingly. The guard released Eran, who stumbled to his feet, rubbing his sore arm.
"Come with me," Hal said, gesturing for Eran to follow.
Hal's home was a modest cottage on the edge of the village, its shelves lined with books, scrolls, and strange objects that glowed faintly with magic. Eran glanced around in awe, sensing the power radiating from the room.
"You're not from around here, are you?" Hal asked, sitting down at a worn wooden table.
Eran hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "No. I… don't belong here."
Hal chuckled. "That much is obvious. You carry yourself like someone used to giving orders, not taking them. But you're a terrible thief."
Eran flushed. "I didn't have a choice."
"We all have choices," Hal said, his tone gentle but firm. "You're just not used to making the hard ones yet."
Eran looked down at his hands, feeling the weight of his failure. He had thought he could adapt to this new life, but the day's events had proven otherwise.
Hal leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "You have potential, boy. I can see it in you. Strength, intelligence… even magic. But you're like an unsharpened blade—useless until honed."
Eran's head snapped up. "Magic?"
Hal nodded. "It's faint, but it's there. If you're willing to learn, I can teach you. But understand this: magic is not a shortcut to power. It requires discipline, patience, and humility—qualities you seem to lack at the moment."
Eran clenched his fists. The thought of learning magic sparked something in him—a glimmer of hope. If he could master magic, he might stand a chance in this new world.
"I'll do whatever it takes," he said, his voice steady.
Hal studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Good. We start tomorrow."
As Eran left the cottage, the sun setting behind him, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. Today had been humiliating, but it had also been a lesson. If he was to survive—and thrive—in this world, he would need to shed his pride and embrace the challenges ahead.
This was just the beginning of his transformation.