Childhood

-King Oswald's Antechamber-

Oswald sat in a tall ornate chair with gold inlays and red silk upholstery. Kyriel sat across from him in a similar chair but with only silvery inlays and frills. A long white marble table with veins of gold separated the two. Trinkets and banners littered the walls leaving only room only for bookshelves and artifacts that lay in glass cases. The room felt very grandeur but at the same time tacky.

Kyriel surveyed the walls, his lips curling up in disgust at the lack of magic and the trinkets that only commoners would admire. "In 40 years, could you have at least changed things up a bit? Why in the world do you insist on still using normal torches? Where are your defensive protocols? I thought I proved how invaluable they were in defending this god forsaken castle years ago against that draconian filth?" Kyriel rambled and muttered the questions off as they crossed his mind, reprimanding the son of one of his dearest friends in all his nearly 400 years alive.

As his rant peeked, he shook his head at the foley of the great Lightbringer family. His hood fell and his pointed ears poked through his silky black hair just enough to be noticeable. Being half elf and half human he was cursed to a long life and being ostracized by both races. Only through his merits and magical prowess had he managed to find a place in the world, forging his own destiny wherever he went.

"Ky you are rambling again, you know this isn't one of your fancy rooms in your precious man cave. As for your questions, I find life without overwhelming power that comes with magic refreshing. Sure tasks take longer and are a little harder, but it gives this life more meaning than any of your incantations ever will. I wanted my son to grow up respecting hard work with a work ethic to match. How many of those pompous merchants kids have you taught that failed the trials because they always had everything at the whim of their coat tails?" He gave the old mage a stern look and a shake of the head as if reaffirming the conviction in his voice. "I hoped that the laws would save my son from this enchanting world beyond our domain, but alas here you are. If the blood oath still remains and you refuse to null it, then there's nothing I can do without killing myself and leaving my kingdom without a ruler."

The dumbfounded arch mage couldn't refute any of the points, he stroked his beard as he pondered those thoughts. "Maybe you are right, without hardships one cannot grow and without growth, the limitations on one's soul is beyond measure. So tell me about the boy. Does he show any of his grandfather's powers or is he just as plain and dull as his old man?"

"Well being secluded from the unbelievable possibilities that magic can bring, it has closed his mind off to it mostly. He knows that it's possible in the world by the mutated beasts, but nothing like what he saw earlier. I'm sure seeing your charade earlier has probably sent him into shock. As for any innate powers manifesting, There had been a few instances of storms seemingly coming out of nowhere when he lost his temper when he was much younger, but I'm not sure if the two correlate. Over the years I've shrugged it off to my paranoia and it just being a coincidence since they didn't progressively happen as he got older."

"Fascinating, how old was when it first happened and the nature of the storm?" The arch mage's interest was thoroughly piqued.

"It was right after winter had set in after his 8th birthday. He was angry with me after I refused his request to start training with the master of arms. Such a young kid shouldn't need to be so engrossed in combat and techniques so early. Soon after he had stormed off to his quarters, a blizzard came over the mountaintop from the east. It snowed all winter, only breaking apart when spring came to blow the storm away. That was the single most brutal winter this region has ever had in all the generations we've lived here. None of the old texts mentioned a blizzard of that nature even half as bad. By the end of it, our rations nearly depleted and if it wasn't for that year's bountiful harvest we would have never lasted that long." Oswald gripped his armchair tighter and tighter as he recounted that awful memory.

"By my Maker, he may just carry the will of the Lightbringers after all. To be so young and to have such a long lasting influence on nature is a feat that only has ever been recorded to be done by the legends of the Ascended, Mages so powerful that they became gods and left their mortal bodies behind. I've always thought those were just fairy tales and stories made up to inspire the young nobles to practice magic, but now I'm not so sure. With the magical aptitude and prowess that your ancestors showed, it may be possible. However, in the stories such phenomenon would continue to ramp up intensity until either the mage learned to control their mana or the civilization harboring it collapsed." Long strands of black hair fell out of his beard as both hands furiously stroked it faster and faster as he rambled.

"Yes I'm aware of such tales, fearing the worst I began letting the prince accompany me in court to listen to the people he would rule over one day to learn how to be moral and just. Once he turned 12, I let him hear out their requests as well as dole out punishments to crimes, only stepping in when he was too naive or too cruel in his responses. After two years, I found myself never stepping in to correct him, his judgements became both fair and logical. At that point I knew there was no more that I could teach him, so I sent him to train with the Master of arms to learn how to defend himself. When he turned 16 he had hit a huge growth spurt outgrowing his childish body, growing muscles and body mass that had eluded him previously. His technique and combat prowess soared, soon he was able to beat all the knights in the castle in spars but lacked the ability to take a life, always hesitating on our hunts in the nearby woods. Realizing his weakness I stopped sending him on patrols, fearing that if he ran into bandits he might win the fight but lose the war. Hesitating for even a moment can cost you your life against ruthless opponents as you well know."

Grief swallowed the King, choking on his last few words remembering the loss of some of his best men long in the past as well as his older brother that was supposed to be King. He projected the feelings onto his son and the hopeless situation he now found himself in. Why had he promised his firstborn for the sake of his kingdom, if he had to do it all over again he would refuse. If only he knew then that his firstborn would become his only immediate family he would have never even considered it. He inwardly cursed himself. Living without his only family was not much of a life that he could find happiness in. Memories of his Father flashed in his eyes, the same doubts and worries began to swirl in his mind. He began pacing around the marble table, marching to a rhythm as his chainmail started to clink as it hit the table as he would near it from time to time.

"Kyriel please tell me you will take care of my boy. After Gale died during childbirth, the thought of having any other wives or children is not something I've been able to cope with, even after all these years. So I need you to swear it to me if you plan on carrying out the oath." He took out a ceremonial silver dagger from a drawer and placed it in front of him. Then produced a marble bowl with a golden rim. His hands shook as he grabbed the knife and slowly made a vertical slit along his other palm, letting the blood flow into the bowl until it was half full.

"I swear that I, King Oswald Lightbringer, will honor my oath and relinquish my firstborn son to the protection of ArchMage Kyriel Thane as long as he swears to protect him with his life as if he was his own child." A small wisp of light mana composed of the Kings will flowed into the bowl infusing with the blood.

Kyriel was shocked by what had just happened, this second oath was not needed or required to complete the first one. Seeing the grief and pain in the King's eyes, he felt compelled to do it if it would quell at-least some of his sorrows. He repeated the King's actions, "I swear that I, Archmage Kyriel Thane, will protect Grimwald Lightbringer as if he was my own son, taking him as my apprentice and teaching him all that I know." A Black wisp flowed from his mouth and into the bowl infusing with his and the King's blood, solidifying the oath that they had just taken.

An ethereal gray fire engulfed the bowl, burning the contents, marking that the universe had accepted the oath. No one could break that oath now without dying themselves. It was an ancient ceremony that was only done to solidify treaties and pacts currently, but many old mages still carried them out to keep from being wronged by the evil intent of regular nobles and merchants.

Oswald quickly put away the bowl and knife, and walked over to an enchanted glass case containing a long demonic looking sword. It had a peculiar looking crystal embedded into the hilt that would flash different colors, but otherwise giving off a faint gray glow. The guard had the depiction of four different dragon heads that were each unique and eerily realistic, they jutted out in an X pattern each protecting a different direction. The pommel replicated the dragon's formation but instead of the heads, it was their spiky tails. The blade was slightly curved at the tip, with the prominent side being the only visible cutting edge. The backside of the blade was much thicker, almost giving it a look of a long cleaver if it wasn't for the spikes that looked like dragons talons protruding from the backside cascading over one another, threatening to impale anything close to it as if it was a serrated edge. The scabbard next to it looked plain and battle worn. He slipped the tip of the sword in, and a white light enveloped the sword as it swallowed the sword. Once completely sheathed the pommel and guard both shifted into a normal looking sword, albeit the gray crystal still dominantly showing its presence.

"I wanted to give this to him when he was ready, but I suppose you will have to do it in my stead. It is the sword of the Dragon King, my ancestor the first Lightbringer to bring order and peace to these lands, only a Lightbringer with great magical prowess can wield its true nature. My father was the last one to wield it before it deemed him unworthy and began to drain his life force forcing him to discard it. It's both extremely powerful and cursed, if the blade finds the wielder to be unfit at any time, it will only allow its power to be used for a price of the wielder's lifeforce. Only give this to him when you know he's ready. Otherwise it will greatly shorten his life if his magic can not suppress its greed for power."

Kyriel stored the sword within the dimensional pocket in his robes. It made him shudder, as the blade was in his grasp even for a moment. It truly was cursed as he felt the spite and hatred of the dragon souls trapped in the blade. He feared the day he would have to give it to his new apprentice. Such a burden for power was not worth it. "You have my word, but as far as niceties go, this old mage is quite tired. I will retreat to the guest wing and will summon for the boy in the morning. We leave at dawn." With that he clicked his tongue forcing Minerva to appear behind him from the shadows as they swiftly exited the antechamber, leaving the King to reflect and grieve by himself.