As I turned five, my magical abilities continued to grow. Though I had kept my practice a secret, my mother, ever watchful, began to notice my unusual behavior. I would spend hours in solitude, meditating, feeling the flow of mana, and attempting to shape it at will. Unlike the mages of the kingdom, who required incantations, I discovered that I could mold magic instinctively, as if it were an extension of my very soul.
One morning, my father summoned me to the grand hall. He sat upon his ornate throne, his piercing gaze fixed upon me. "Cael, I have arranged for you to begin training with Master Aldric, one of the kingdom's greatest knights. You will learn swordsmanship, as befits an Althaus."
I hesitated. Swordsmanship was crucial for a noble, but I could not ignore my magical abilities. "Father, may I also learn magic?" I asked cautiously.
A tense silence filled the hall. My father's brow furrowed, and my mother placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Reinhardt, perhaps it is time we reconsider our views on magic," she said softly. "The boy is gifted beyond measure."
My father sighed, rubbing his temples. "Very well," he conceded. "You may train in magic. But I will not tolerate weakness. If you choose this path, you must prove yourself worthy of the Althaus name."
With those words, my future was set in stone. I would undergo the grueling training of a noble swordsman while mastering the lost arts of magic. The road ahead would be treacherous, filled with trials and adversaries. But I welcomed the challenge.
For I was Cael von Althaus, the reincarnated noble. And I would rise to become the Arcane Lord.
To be continued…