Ar didn't answer right away. He took a deep breath, then picked up a piece of paper from the table. Carefully he handed it to Thomas, the oldest of them.
"I want you to keep an eye on these places," he said, his voice deepening. "Look for any movement that you think is strange. If you see anything suspicious, report it to me immediately."
Thomas took the paper and read it carefully. The boy's eyes were full of determination, and after a moment he nodded firmly. "We will, brother."
The other four children followed Thomas, their spirits burning. There was no doubt in their faces, only the belief that they could do something for him.
Without another word, they turned and descended from the attic. Their footsteps sounded clear on the wooden floor, echoing in the silence that now filled the room.
Ar stayed where he was, listening to their footsteps until they finally disappeared. He took a deep breath and walked over to the small window at the side of the room. His red eyes stared at the evening sky, which was beginning to turn orange, its color reflecting the flames inside him.
Behind the silence, his thoughts continued to spin.
He thought about the children's faces. They might not have Essential powers, but they had something more valuable, the courage to fight, even if they had to face fears greater than themselves.
The sound of light footsteps could be heard behind him. Clau had returned to stand beside him, silently watching Ar's expression.
"Clau," Ar finally spoke, his voice softer but full of determination. "We need more supporters."
Clau turned around, his eyes looking at Ar with conviction. "What do you think, brother?"
"We need them, Clau. The people of the Floressia District, who have lived under the grip of Baron Bartemus for too long. They need courage, and we can give it to them."
And the dusk slowly faded, leaving a golden trail in the sky of the Floressia District. The afternoon wind blew through the windows of the old orphanage, carrying the scent of weathered wood and damp air. Ar sat at the dining table, staring at the bean soup that was beginning to cool in front of him. Only Thomas and Elize sat at the table, the other chairs were empty.
Quiet but heavy footsteps could be heard approaching. Mother Laila came carrying a pot of soup, the lines on her face looking deeper than usual. As if there was an unspoken burden that continued to hang over the old woman's mind.
"Child," she called softly, placing the pot on the table. "Do you know where the other children are? Clau, Lili, Jessica... they've been missing dinner lately."
Ar straightened his back and shrugged casually. "They just want to look around, Mother. They're excited, that's all."
But that answer was not enough for Mother Laila. Her worried gaze did not waver.
"Mother is just worried." Her voice was softer this time. "After all that has happened... Baron Bartemus' thugs came here, the warehouse caught fire... and now you often leave without explanation."
Ar didn't answer, just lowered his head and let the words hang in the air. Mother Laila took a deep breath, as if to quell her fear, then turned to the kitchen.
The dining table was silent. The sound of spoons occasionally hitting bowls was the only sound that could be heard. Ar glanced at Thomas and Elize to make sure they didn't notice him before finally getting up and slipping away.
On the other side, dim candlelight illuminated the small room, casting moving shadows on the worn walls. Through the slightly open door, Ar saw Mother Laila sitting listlessly in her chair. Her fingers held a piece of paper, while her eyes kept dropping to the floor as if she were weighing something heavy.
Ar didn't have to guess what she was thinking about. He knew it was about the orphanage. About the uncertainty, about the lurking threat.
Without hesitation, Ar pushed open the door and stepped inside.
"Mother."
Mother Laila jumped and turned her head quickly. She tried to smile, but the tiredness in her eyes could not be hidden. Hastily, she folded the paper, placed it in a brown envelope, and slipped it into the desk drawer.
"Why are you here? It's late. You should go back to bed." Her voice tried to sound casual, but there was something in her tone, haste, perhaps fear. "Clau and Ronal... did they go home?"
Ar remained silent for a moment, watching the old woman's expression. There was something Mother Laila didn't want to say. Something the old woman was hiding.
Ar stared at the old woman with his sharp red eyes. The flickering candlelight in the corner of the room reflected the lightning in his irises, accentuating the tension between them.
"What did you hide in that drawer, Mother?" he asked, his voice low but full of pressure. "Another threatening letter from Baron Bartemus?"
Mother Laila froze. Her eyes fell to the ground, as if searching for an answer she could hide. But Ar's words had shattered the lie before it could be uttered. The air in the room felt heavier.
"Yes, it's true." Mother Laila's voice sounded faint, almost like a sigh. "Three days ago you saw it too. Baron Bartemus sent Channeler thugs to the orphanage. They intimidated us, and now... the threat is growing. The Baron himself is coming to take this orphanage."
Ar clenched his fists. His jaw tightened. He could feel the heat of anger burning in his chest, but he remained still, waiting for the explanation to continue.
"He has given us time before the week comes." Mother Laila's tone softened, as if each word that came out of her mouth carried a heavier weight. "If we don't leave this house soon, he will act. No one can help us. The District Chief wouldn't dare oppose Kaelith like he did. Who would dare oppose Baron Bartemus?"
Ar didn't answer. His gaze remained fixed on the old woman's face. Her shoulders looked more frail than usual, and when she raised her hands to cover her face, Ar could see how deep the exhaustion was eating away at Mother Laila.
"Mother, you should rest first," he said finally, though there was a firmness in his voice. This was not just a suggestion, but a decision.
Mother Laila stared at him, her tearful eyes catching something in Ar, something that made a figure like Ar more mature than his age. Slowly, her wrinkled hand rose and gently stroked Ar's head.
"You are a strong child," she whispered, a thin smile on her lips. "Too strong for a child your age."
Then, without another word, she rose from her chair and walked to the room next to the study. Her steps were slow, almost unsteady, as if her body could no longer bear what she had to carry alone.
Now only Ar was left in the room. Silence surrounded her, only the sound of the candle's flame occasionally swaying in the wind. She stared at the drawer, now firmly closed.
***
The following days passed in a silence that felt strange to Ar. Clau and some other orphanage children still went out often, doing their chores without much explanation. Meanwhile, Ar stayed at the orphanage and did not hunt in the forest as usual. The merchants at the market, who usually waited for his catch, began to wonder.
Aunt Gracia, a meat trader who often interacted with the orphanage children, stopped Elize when she saw her at the market. "Elize, is he sick?" she asked, her voice full of curiosity.
Elize just shook her head and replied briefly, "My brother is at home. Helping mother, auntie." Then she quickly said goodbye before any more questions could be asked.
At the orphanage, Ar kept busy with the little things. He helped prepare food, repaired the leaking roof, and cleaned the dusty rooms.
But behind all this, his mind continued to spin. Every task he did was just a way to distract his mind from something bigger, something he could not yet fully determine.
As night fell, the silence became more pronounced. Only the sound of crickets from outside and the wind that slipped through the gaps in the window accompanied Ar. He sat on an old chair by the window and stared at the full moon hanging large in the night sky. Its pale light cast a stern silhouette on Ar's face, showing an expression that was hard to read.
In his hands were two letters.
The first was from Elize. It was about the poaching that was going on in the protected forest of Floressia District. Natural Magical Beasts that should have been protected by law were now the target of illegal hunting. The Kaelith nobles, with their Channeler powers, seemed to ignore the law at will.
This was a true picture of discrimination. The Ethels, commoners with little Essential Magic, were always the victims of injustice, unable to fight back.