Discord

Alorian didn't have a choice to face the trials ahead, though he has readied himself for such tradition. Not because he was pressured by the Obsidian Sage Order, but because he had been drawn to all that awaited him. The world of Nisiar had made the child enchanted by a sea of interest.

Although his father's death had broken his heart, he tried to keep moving, knowing that he could not stand where he was. A multitude of experiences beckoned on the horizon, and he was determined not to cause his mother undue concern or be subjected to a series of rituals.

Nevertheless, Amarta appeared reluctant to reveal the complete truth to Alorian. Whenever her son inquired, she would simply offer a reassuring smile and attempt to divert the conversation, all the while encouraging him to dedicate himself to his studies.

"Bound connection?" Alorian was now stunned, his voice changed almost like he was shouting. "What in the world is that?" 

Fiona, who was now dressed in a blue casual dress almost exposing some aspects of her. She rose from her feat with her expression flushed in red. "What? You don't know what that elder mean?"

She then wrote something on the crowded chalkboard. "So the ritual needs your Prana to create a new child from your mother!"

"Don't fool around!" the child in all-black casual clothes hopped and stood, not believing what Fiona uttered. "There's no way I'm doing that!"

"That's why you have to conquer the trials, you idiot!" Fiona's face was like a roast, sullen and irritated. "Why do you think it's inappropriate to do that ritual?"

Alorian fell into contemplative silence; if Fiona's words held truth, everything seemed to fall into place. The elder's assertion that Prana could retain memories or reflexes from one's ancestors meant that if he were to father a child, that child would inherit both his and Artonius's traits.

In this scenario, the odds of the child failing the trials seemed small.

"Absurd! Why would they devise such a method?" Alorian muttered, still looking downward.

"The Order will stop at nothing to achieve their wants, you know!" Fiona knelt back down in front of Alorian, focused on her open book, a mix of determination and frustration on her face. 

Seated cross-legged alongside Fiona, Alorian's countenance remained marred by the unsettling information he had just absorbed. The deluge of diverse knowledge weighed down his thoughts, leaving his mind burdened.

The trials, as he now comprehended, weren't about strength; they required the skill of knowledge critical for the kingdom's survival. This tradition was divided into various segments, such as Knowledge, Martial Arts, and Mental Resilience.

"I can't offer assistance in other matters, Alorian," Fiona's voice threw in, breaking the silence that loomed between them. "You should seek advice from your brothers."

Instead, a sigh escaped the man's lips, his face in noticeable disappointment. "I wish to, Fiona. But it seems they don't like me at all."

"Isn't this an excellent chance to fix the relationships?" Fiona's tone was brimming with enthusiasm as she offered her motivation. "You could ask about their experiences with the trials, couldn't you?"

Alorian remained thoroughly unconvinced by Fiona's recommendation, knowing full well that his brothers were reluctant, if not outright hesitant, to confront him. Nevertheless, there was merit in her advice.

To succeed in facing the trials, he needed to understand how they worked from those who had already experienced them, even if he knew that each child's trials were different.

"Why should I help you?" the tall, blond-haired man with straight locks, his blue eyes indicated with cynicism, retorted. He was Fiona's brother, Erdant, acclaimed for his intelligence and top scores during the trials.

"Brother, I need your assistance in the first trial," the young man with black hair implored. "I know you might hold resentments against me for whatever reason, but please, I must overcome that tradition."

"That's not my concern!" Erdant replied, still standing at his bedroom entrance. "Besides, I wish for you to fail."

"I'll tell you something, my little brother," he stepped forward, forcing Alorian to retreat. "My father said he'd be the one to inherit the throne, which means I'll be the future Prince of Caeloria."

"If I aid you, I won't earn to experience any of that." His gaze seethed with pent-up emotions and resentment. "Maybe you should give up and do that ritual with your mother."

With a lecherous grin, he added, "If I were you, I'd like to do it anytime." His face hovering close to Alorian's, an unsettling smirk pushed Alorian over the edge.

Yanking roughly at Erdant's casual blue attire, Alorian shouted, "What did you say, huh?"

Witnessing the unexpected altercation, Fiona swiftly moved to intervene, her voice raised in alarm. "What on earth are you both doing?" she exclaimed, successfully managing to separate the two.

"Brother, how could you say such a thing?" Fiona demanded angrily, her disbelief evident that her flesh and blood, her brother, would stoop to belittle Alorian.

"Little sister, you shouldn't be friends with him," Erdant fired back, his face flushed with anger. "He's merely the child of a worthless slave!"

In the face of Erdant's harsh and disrespectful words, Alorian reacted swiftly, landing a strike on Erdant's left cheek with his right hand. Yet, due to his smaller stature, the blow lacked significant impact.

Erdant, refusing to be passive, retaliated with a powerful blow that sent Alorian sprawling to the floor, the forceful impact hitting him in his handsome face.

"Enough!" Fiona interrupted once more, preventing her brother from escalating the situation further as she approached the now-fallen Alorian. "Stop, Brother!"

Erdant wiped the blood from his mouth and confronted Fiona with disbelief. "Fiona, you choose him over your brother?"

Erdant became aware that his other siblings were starting to gather, witnessing the commotion in the corridor. Even the maids who had noticed the altercation didn't take much action; instead, they began to whisper amongst themselves. Alorian's other brothers even chuckled at the scene.

"I'll inform Father that you're not obeying his commands," he then cast his stare around at the assembled crowd. "Are you all willing to entrust the future of Caeloria to a weak kid like him? Someone who even doesn't know how to handle the trials?"

The young man chuckled before turning his attention downward, toward Alorian. "Without your father, you're nothing."

A relationship that had never been close or even cordial turned into a nightmare in an instant, all because for the first time, Alorian spoke to his brother. He was humiliated there, and his other brothers were no longer there to defend him or extend a helping hand.

The respected prince in every corner of the palace was now reduced to mere waste. His presence was neither expected nor held any importance.

***

"Why has it come to this, sweetheart?" said the woman who was tying her hair back, concerned for his condition, as she gently pressed cotton around the bruised area near Alorian's mouth. "Were you in a fight?"

"Aunt Amarta, I'm so sorry for this incident," Fiona bowed, her eyes already moist with tears. "This is all my fault; if only I hadn't instructed Alorian to seek assistance from my brother."

Amarta felt discomfort of sadness seeing Fiona sob like that, pulling the girl beside her into an embrace. "There, there, Fiona, it's okay. What's wrong with Erdant?"

The young girl struggled to hold back her tears, took a deep breath, and then spilled the information. "Brother... my brother was... we were..."

"We were just training, Mother," Alorian interrupted with a radiant smile, inexplicably different from his gloomy expression just moments ago. "Don't worry, it's going to be part of my routine."

In a flash, Fiona was stunned, her eyes widened, and she pulled away from Amarta's embrace, staring at Alorian in disbelief. His forced smile made Fiona feel nauseated.

"Is that true, Fiona?" Alorian prodded, urging the girl to follow the fabricated narrative, with no further words spoken except for her nodding in agreement.

The room was bathed in a multitude of shimmering lights, each elegant lamp illuminating one chamber after another within the palace. The grand rooms, in particular, boasted enormous chandeliers that cascaded with a mesmerizing dance of diamond-like reflections.

Amidst the soft, warm glow of oil lamps, a solitary woman sat in the dimness, her focus dedicated to the pages of a journal. She was shrouded in solitude, embraced by the darkness, her nightgown a sheer black that hinted at the contours of her graceful figure, all accentuated by the subtle play of light.

Her hair, pinned up, allowed her long neck to be gently caressed by the occasional breeze that drifted through the room as she continued to inscribe her thoughts on paper. Her skin appeared as if it had been pampered to perfection, smooth and supple, yet her two deep-blue eyes crossed a profound well of sorrow.

"Honey... it's been a week without you, and everything has twisted out of control," Amarta whispered, her tears glistening like precious gems as they traced a path down her cheeks. "I worry about Alorian's future. That child seems to be hiding something from me."

Suddenly, a series of knocks on the door twitched Amarta from her contemplation. She swiftly wiped her tears, closed her diary, and shut the brown-covered book. With a louder tone, she inquired, "Who is that?"

However, no response came from the other side. Determined, Amarta approached the rather large wooden door and slowly turned the handle. Standing before her was a robust man, one hand still clad in bandages, dressed in a casual red ensemble.

A wide smile exposed his face, which bore subtle alterations due to the accident, as he said, "Do you miss me, Amarta?"

His arrival left Amarta in wide-eyed surprise, her answer a hesitant, "H-Herich?"