Edric Hale
Julian moved across the training grounds, his small frame dwarfed by Aldric's presence. His swings were quick but lacked force, his footwork careful yet unrefined. I watched in silence from the balcony, arms crossed as I studied my son.
He is not strong. That much is undeniable. He lacks the boundless ki that should have been his birthright, the inheritance of my blood. And yet, there is something in the way he moves. Determination. Intelligence. A fire that refuses to be extinguished despite the weight of his shortcomings.
I had hoped for a son who would stand atop the world, one who would surpass even me. The expectations of the Hale bloodline are heavy, and he carries them with no promise of ever fulfilling them. It is painful to watch, knowing the world will not be kind to him.
And yet, he fights.
Aldric sweeps his legs, and Julian falls. I clench my jaw, waiting. Will he stay down? Will he surrender to the reality of his weakness?
A sigh escapes me. Perhaps it is frustration, or perhaps it is something else. I turn away from the scene and retreat into the halls of our estate. My wife, Selene waiting for me in the sitting room, her expression serene as she drinks tea. She has always carried herself with grace, a woman whose control over Vita is second only to her patience.
"You seem troubled." she says, not looking up.
I sit across from her, taking the cup she offers. "He is not improving as he should."
She hums thoughtfully. "Perhaps not in the way you wish."
I frown. "Strength determines one's place in this world. Without ki, he—"
"—will find another way." She meets my gaze, unshaken. "You see only what he lacks, but have you truly looked at what he possesses?"
I exhale, setting the cup down. "You never lose faith in him."
"As a mother should." She offers a small smile. "But you, as his father, must decide whether you will be the weight that holds him down or the force that pushes him forward."
Her words linger in my mind as silence falls between us. Outside, the sound of wood striking wood echoes through the air, a reminder that the boy still fights.
The world has not been kind to him. From the moment he was born, whispers filled the halls, voices laced with disappointment and scorn. A son of the Hale bloodline, yet lacking the strength expected of him. Relatives, retainers, nobles—each had their own way of voicing their disdain, whether through cold glances or veiled words. Even now, he remains a subject of quiet ridicule. When he was younger, he would venture outside, but unlike the other children whose ki surged naturally through their bodies, his was faint, barely present. He was always alone, unable to keep up, left behind as they ran, jumped, and played with an ease he could never match.
I have done little to shield him. Perhaps I, too, have looked at him with the same silent judgment, waiting for a strength that may never come. But what should I do? Should I push him harder, demand more, mold him into something greater despite the limits placed upon him? Or should I accept him as he is, find another way to guide him? I don't even know if a different path exists.
For all my strength, I do not have the answers. Only questions, and the uncertain weight of fatherhood.
"Our power comes from not just individual power but the influence and provision we have on the nation. We've slowly built up strength and trust providing and donating a lot to the military, kids' education, and researches." Selene says with a smile that quite didn't reach her eyes. "And the Hales have control over the biggest vita harvesting lands with the most potent vita, one of the biggest strength of Valdoria."
Selene's words hung in the air, a bittersweet comfort. I could see her trying to ease my mind, but the weight of what she said wasn't lost on me. It wasn't just about individual power or strength—it was about the influence and provision we had built across the land. We were more than warriors. We were the backbone of this nation.
I leaned back in my chair, staring out at the city skyline, the vast expanse of our capital stretching beneath the twilight sky. The setting sun painted the buildings in a soft orange glow, and for a moment, I lost myself in the beauty of it. But as the city settled into the quiet of evening, my thoughts turned inward.
Valdoria. Our home. But the world does not revolve around us.
To the east, Sylvanya stretched its mystical lands. The Sylvanyans, masters of Vita, lived in harmony with the forests, drawing from the very earth itself. I had never liked them. Their arrogance, their constant push for more power... it had led us to war.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. But their reach had grown too far.
To the south lay Ravendor, a harsh and unforgiving land where only the strong survived. A people defined by survival and strength. They had their own power—perhaps more primal than ours, but no less dangerous. Ravendor's warriors had been a constant threat to our borders, and it was only by our sheer will that we had held them back.
But it wasn't just about the battles fought with sword and ki. It was about what we controlled.
Valdoria, unlike Sylvanya or Ravendor, was a land of opportunity and balance. We had three great cities that held the pulse of the nation. Aldrath, where the heart of our power beats. The capital, sprawling along the River Haldor, was where all the political and military power resided. Then there was Tyranthar, fortified in the mountains to the west, the city of stone, where our strength was grounded in iron and coal. And Eldros, the southern port city, connected us to the outside world, bustling with trade and commerce.
A decade ago, the war with Sylvanya had defined the course of our nation. The battle for territory, resources, and influence had nearly torn us apart. But we had won. Sylvanya's aggression had been met with the full force of our combined strength, bolstered by the might of our nobility, born of power and legacy. Our parents, their power and connection to the land, had made the difference.
Our victory was not just in the battlefield. It was in the control we had over the Vita fields—the lands where the richest Vita was harvested.
The Vita harvesting fields of Hales were our greatest asset. They powered our economy and our strength. No other nation controlled lands so rich in the essence of life itself. It was because of that power, and the wealth it brought us, that the Hale family—my family—held the position we did.
But it came with a price.
The war had forged our nobility, shaped our world. The Hales had risen because we had power—the power of the land, of Vita, of the people who depended on us. But that same power was what burdened me, what weighed on Julian. We were not merely rulers—we were providers, and that meant our strength was expected to be limitless.
I do not know if he will be able to carry it.
Outside, the sounds of the busy city echoed, and I allowed myself a brief moment of reflection. We had built this nation on the strength of our ancestors, on the power of our victory, on the trust we had earned.
And now... now I must decide how to pass that on.