Throvald Fors
The dining hall was quiet. Too quiet.
It felt emptier than usual. I cut into my steak, chewing slowly as my eyes flicked across the table.
I set my fork down, my gaze sweeping across the table. The warmth of roasted venison and spiced wine filled the air, but something was missing. Or rather, someone.
"Where's Sieg?" I asked.
Elara's hand, which had been gracefully holding a goblet of wine, paused for the briefest moment before she resumed drinking. Valka, seated beside her, kept her eyes on her plate, slicing into her food without a word.
That alone told me everything.
I shifted my gaze to Zayn, who sat across from me, chewing his food with deliberate slowness, as if pretending not to hear.
I leaned forward. "Well?"
Zayn let out a quiet sigh through his nose, setting his utensils down with a soft clink against the plate. "He's not feeling well," he said simply.
I arched an eyebrow. "Not feeling well? He seemed fine this morning."
Zayn's face remained impassive. "He… couldn't take today's training."
Silence fell over the table. The only sound was the crackling of the fireplace behind me.
I exhaled slowly, folding my arms. "What kind of training was it?"
Zayn hesitated for a second before shaking his head. "Let's discuss this later, my lord."
I studied him for a moment before agreeing. "Very well."
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
The warm glow of lamps lit the entire room, illuminating the neatly arranged books that lined the walls. I sat in my high-backed chair, watching Zayn as he leaned against my desk, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
"Tell me everything," I said.
"I took him hunting today," he said, taking a deep breath before speaking. "I wanted him to get used to the sight of blood, to understand what it meant to take a life. He hesitated at first, but that was expected."
I remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
Zayn's fingers tapped lightly against his arm. "So I pushed him further. We moved on to a boar. I forced him to kill it. He did, but afterward, he shut down completely. He hasn't spoken a word since."
I closed my eyes for a moment. I should be angry. I should berate Zayn for pushing too hard, for not easing Sieg into it properly. But instead, my mind drifted back to my own past.
I remembered my father, Ravald Fors, taking me into the woods when I was Sieg's age. My first kill had also been a horned boar. I still recalled the weight of the spear in my hands, the way my arms had trembled afterward. I had stood there, staring at the blood on my hands, feeling as though I had done something irreversible.
I never forgot that day.
It wasn't a good memory. But it had been necessary.
I sighed, rubbing my temple. "I know what you were trying to do," I said finally. "But you could have found a better method."
"I know." Zayn's voice was quieter now. "I only have four days left here. There's still so much to teach him."
I frowned. "He is only six, Zayn. We have time—"
"No," Zayn interrupted, his voice sharper than before. "He is already six. In four years, the prophecy will come true."
My breath hitched, my fingers tightening around the armrest of my chair.
The prophecy. The one I had tried not to think about.
Zayn's eyes didn't waver. "And I know, after losing your son, you won't push Sieg into fighting or killing. You're too good-natured for that."
That… might be true. I wanted to keep Sieg away from all harm. I wanted him to live as a child should, free from bloodshed, to not burden him with the weight of his bloodline's duty.
But reality didn't care for what I wanted.
"I won't always be here," I murmured, staring at the picture of Erik at my desk.
Zayn studied me for a long moment before shaking his head. "For now, I doubt Sieg will even look at me."
I sighed. "Yes, I suspect so." I leaned back, deep in thought.
Then an idea formed.
"Let me talk to Sieg tomorrow," I said.
Zayn looked at me, surprised. "You?"
"I'll speak to him. Ease him into it. Maybe he'll agree to continue training with you afterward."
Zayn leaned back against the desk, considering. "If you can do it, be my guest."
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
After speaking with Elara and Valka, I passed the day's instructions to Silas and made my way to the library.
Our family's library was vast, towering shelves lined every wall, packed with books, scrolls, and thick volumes on history, magic, and alchemy, all collected by Elara over the years. Shafts of sunlight poured through the tall arched windows, casting warm golden light across the polished wood floor. The air smelled faintly of lavender oil, a calming scent Elara insisted on using to keep the scrolls from molding.
I spotted Sieg at one of the long oak tables, a thick book open in front of him. His gaze was fixed on the page, unmoving, vacant. He wasn't reading. One small hand gripped the edge of the book tightly. The other gently stroked the fox spirit curled asleep on his lap.
I stood there for a moment, just watching. There was something in the stillness of his posture—thoughtful, but heavy. I stepped closer.
"Not enjoying your book?" I asked, keeping my tone light.
Sieg flinched, pulled from his thoughts. He looked up at me, uncertain. "I… I just don't feel like reading today."
I hummed in understanding and pulled out the chair beside him, settling into it with a quiet grunt.
"I hear you went out with Zayn yesterday?" I asked.
"Ah." A quiet realization lit his expression. "I did."
He looked away for a moment, as if replaying something in his mind. The air around him felt a little different, a shade heavier, like he had returned carrying something unseen.
"You know," I began, "when I was about your age, my father took me hunting for the first time."
Sieg blinked, his full attention now on me. "Really?"
I nodded. "It was a horned boar. Just like the one you faced."
He swallowed. "How did it go? Did you do it? Were you... afraid?"
I let out a short chuckle. "Of course I was. I still remember the blood. The smell. It wasn't pleasant." I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "But I learned something that day."
Sieg hesitated, then asked quietly, "What?"
My gaze drifted to my hand, curling it slowly into a fist. "That strength isn't about crushing. It's about protecting. It's knowing when to act, and when to hold back."
I looked back at him. "Especially when the strength you hold is different from others."
His brows pulled together. "Different how?"
I allowed a small smirk. "It's part of our blood trait. Our muscles don't just grow stronger with training. They remember strength. They store mana over time, keeping us enhanced even when we're not actively channeling magic. The more we push our limits, the more our bodies adapt—faster, tougher, more enduring."
Sieg's eyes widened slightly. "So… we're always in an enhanced state?"
"Exactly," I said with a nod. "Even our wounds heal quicker. That's why our bloodline stands apart from many others. We don't just cast magic. We carry it, in our bones."
He fell silent, letting the words settle in. I could see the storm of thoughts behind his eyes.
After a moment, I added, more gently, "I won't force you to learn. But if you want to understand your strength… if you want to stop fearing it, come with me."
He didn't answer right away. He rarely did. That boy thinks more deeply than most grown men I've known. Sometimes it surprises me, how much he reflects before deciding. It's nothing like me. Or Valka.
At last, Sieg looked up.
"I'll come with you."
I extended my hand to him. Sieg looked at it for a moment, then took it without a word, his small fingers wrapping around mine.
A faint smile tugged at my lips.
Without warning, I scooped him up into my arms. He let out a surprised breath, arms instinctively wrapping around my neck.
"Grandpa…" he murmured, mildly embarrassed.
A sharp howl broke the quiet.
The fox spirit shot up like a bolt of wind, darting between us and hovering in front of my face with an unmistakable scowl. Its tiny eyes narrowed, puffed-up fur bristling with irritation.
Ah. I forgot he was on Sieg's lap.
"My apologies," I said solemnly, bowing my head slightly.
The spirit huffed, actually huffed, then circled once with a dramatic spin before settling atop Sieg's head like a furry crown. His tails draped down, one curling protectively near Sieg's cheek.
Sieg giggled softly, and I let out a chuckle of my own before carrying him out of the library like I used to when he was smaller, before all of this.
We stepped outside and arrived at the back field, the morning sun hung low. The wind carried the scent of fresh grass and old sweat—familiar and grounding.
Moving past the saluting training soldiers, we left the mansion via the back gate. Once in the quiet depths of the forest, I carefully placed Sieg on the ground.
"Let's begin," I said, rolling up one sleeve. "Punch me. Right here." I knelt and tapped at my palm.
He looked confused. "Won't that hurt? I am quite strong."
"Probably more for you than me. Come on, don't hold back."
Still unsure, he clenched his fist and threw a punch. It landed with a soft thud against my hand, weak, hesitant.
I shook my head. "That wasn't a punch. Try again."
He frowned, taking a breath before striking again, this time putting more force behind it. The impact was still light, but enough that he could feel something different, my arm barely moved.
Sieg pulled his hand back, shaking it. "It's like hitting a thick wall…"
"That's because my muscles remember strength. Even when I'm not actively reinforcing my body, my mana has already seeped into my muscles over years of training. They naturally absorb force. That's the gift of our bloodline."
He looked at his own arm, frowning thoughtfully.
"But it's not just about power," I continued, standing. "It's about teaching your body how to hold that strength. Slowly. Deliberately. Not like a spell you cast and move on. Like a breath you never let out."
I drew in mana slowly from my Soul Crucible, letting it seep into my limbs, not all at once, but like water soaking into cloth. My body shimmered faintly with the effect.
"Enhance your body. Hold it. Let your muscles adapt."
A thought then sparked in my mind. "You can enhance yourself, right?"
"Yes, I learned it from..." He paused, the unspoken name of Zayn hanging in the air. "I can only do it for a minute or so." Truthfully, after only ten days of awakening his mana, even that was astounding. It had taken me a month to achieve the same while merely standing.
From Sieg's head, the fox spirit, a silent observer until now, gracefully leaped to my shoulder. "Don't want to get in his way, huh." I gently stroked it beneath the chin, and it purred, settling into a comfortable coil.
I turned my attention back to Sieg and slowly patted him on the head. "This will be a good chance to practice that too."
Sieg nodded, focused. He closed his eyes and began pulling mana from his Crucible.
At first, his control wavered; he poured in too much, too fast. His body tensed, mana sparking around him in fits and starts. I stepped behind him, placed a hand on his back.
"Slow it down. Don't force it. Let it settle into you like warmth from a fire. Gentle. Steady. Let the mana flow into your muscles, not on top of them."
He tried again. This time, the glow softened, settling within his body rather than just coating it.
"Good," I said. "Now move, while holding that state."
His brows furrowed as he struggled to maintain the enhancement. After a few seconds, his mana wavered, flickering out. He staggered slightly, panting.
"It's… hard to keep it steady," he muttered.
I placed a hand on his shoulder. "That's normal. Your body isn't used to it yet. But if you keep doing this, your muscles will adapt. Eventually, even without conscious effort, your body will retain some of the enhancement. That's the Fors bloodline's strength."
Sieg looked up at me, determination flickering in his eyes. "I will try again."
I smiled. "That's the spirit."
We began with the basics—running laps, throwing punches, lifting weighted logs. Sieg moved under the enhancement, his steps lighter, his strikes sharper.
We continued the exercises for a few hours. His enhancement faltered a few times, but each time he instantly reignited it.
It was truly amazing how much mana that small body possessed; maintaining an enhancement requires mana, but switching it off and instantly restarting it demands even more. Yet, Sieg persevered.
In the hours of practice, he stumbled a few times, but never gave up. His breaths grew heavier, his shirt damp with sweat.
Sieg's mana flickered again, but this time, when it faded, he didn't completely revert to his normal state. His steps were still lighter, his grip a little stronger.
He paused, noticing it himself. "I still feel… different," he said, flexing his fingers.
I nodded. "That's your body remembering the enhancement. It's subtle now, but over time, it will build up. Even when you're not actively using magic, you'll be faster, stronger, and more durable than an ordinary person, plus your already superhuman strength, you will be unbeatable in close combat."
Sieg stared at his hands for a moment before glancing up at me. "So… will I be stronger than anyone one day?"
I grinned, ruffling his hair. "Obviously, you will be."
Sieg huffed but didn't push my hand away.
I stepped back, stretching my arms. "But first, let's get through today. Training's not over yet."
Sieg groaned but nodded, steeling himself.
Good. He was adapting. Faster than I expected.
Maybe… just maybe, he would be ready when the time came.
The morning dragged on until the sun stood high above, its golden light piercing through the forest canopy in soft shafts. Sweat clung to the boy's brow, and his breathing came hard and heavy, but the fire in his eyes never dimmed. That look… it reminded me of myself at his age. That same stubborn refusal to yield.
"That's enough for now," I said, resting my hand on his head. His hair was damp, warm from exertion. "Let's head back and get some lunch before your grandmother has my hide for overworking you."
He nodded, still catching his breath, and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. We walked side by side through the woods. By the time we reached the edge of the estate, the tension that had built during training had finally begun to ease.
But fate, as always, had other plans.
As we neared the manor entrance, I spotted Zayn speaking with Silas. The boy noticed too, his steps faltered, just slightly, and a soft "tch" slipped from between his teeth. When I glanced down, I saw his fingers curl around my pants, tight and trembling.
So, he's still upset.
Zayn looked up when he heard us. His gaze met Sieg's, and I caught the flicker of regret in it, just a flash before he walked to us and asked, "How did training go?"
I gave a low chuckle, ruffling the boy's hair. "Better than I thought. He picked up the concept near instantly. Applied it with damn near flawless execution. Having a large mana pool certainly helped."
Zayn's lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. "Good."
Then he surprised me.
He crouched down, right in front of the boy, lowering himself to meet Sieg's eyes. Zayn was not a man who easily bowed his head, nor did he often lower himself for the sake of others. Yet here he was, his sharp gaze softened ever so slightly, his posture neither confrontational nor distant. I could tell this wasn't easy for him.
"I'm sorry," he said. His voice didn't waver. "I went too far."
Sieg said nothing. Just stared at him, jaw tight, brows furrowed deeper. His grip on my clothes hadn't loosened.
"But," Zayn continued, unwavering, "I'll do anything for your future. Even if you end up hating me for it… even if you don't understand now—I'll still do it."
That silence afterward weighed more than any shouted argument. And then, to my surprise, Sieg finally spoke.
"So what I want doesn't matter at all?"
I stiffened. There wasn't a hint of childishness in his voice, just cold, measured reasoning. Too mature for his age. Far too mature.
Zayn rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "It does matter," he admitted. "But there are things in this world you can't afford not to learn. Things that decide whether you live or die." He hesitated, as if debating whether to say more, then shook his head. "Forget it. I'm not here to argue—I came to apologize."
From his belt, he pulled out a small pouch. White and green, with a red gemstone at its center.
My brow lifted in recognition. "A magic pouch?"
Zayn nodded and offered it to Sieg. "It's yours. Consider it a gift."
The boy took it hesitantly, his small hands tracing over the gemstone. Curiosity flared in his eyes, cautiously replacing the anger.
"Is it like yours?" he asked quietly. "Can it store a lot of things?"
Zayn smirked. "It can hold as much as this entire manor."
Sieg's eyes went wide. "Wow…"
And for the first time all day, I saw a real smile break across his face. Not forced. Not polite. Just honest, unguarded wonder. His earlier frustration faded, swept away by that flicker of awe only children still have.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
As I watched Sieg run his fingers over the pouch, admiring every detail like it was the rarest treasure he'd ever seen, a thought crossed my mind. Something didn't quite add up.
Did he buy it just for the apology? I leaned a little closer to Zayn, lowering my voice so only he could hear. "That must've cost quite a bit. They're not easy to find, especially around here."
Zayn kept his gaze on Sieg, who was still marveling at the pouch. His reply was quiet, almost reflective. "No. It's something I bought a while ago. I was planning to give it to him when he awakened."
Ah… That explains it. I nodded to myself. That kind of foresight wasn't something most people carried. It was good—no, reassuring—to know how seriously Zayn thought about Sieg's future.
Zayn straightened and took a half-step forward. "So… am I forgiven?" he asked, voice half-playful, half-sincere.
Sieg looked up at him, face still serious, though the hard edge had dulled somewhat. "I… I know you didn't mean to be cruel," he said quietly. "You were trying to prepare me. But…" His brows furrowed again, and he looked away. "I still don't like the way you did it."
Zayn gave a soft sigh, guilt flickering in his expression. "I agree. I was impatient. Seeing the one I trained hesitate like that… it struck a nerve. I reacted poorly." He turned back to Sieg, voice quieter now. "I forgot you're just six. Just a six-year-old."
There was a pause, and then he dipped his head. "I'm sorry for that."
And then, Sieg did something unexpected.
He crossed his arms, puffed out his little chest, and lifted his chin like a noble lord bestowing judgment. "Ahem," he said, clearing his throat with exaggerated flair. "I can see your sincerity with this gift. You are forgiven. Be glad I will allow you to continue training me."
I choked back a laugh. Where did he learn to act like that?
Zayn gave a theatrical bow, hand to chest. "Ho~ Young Lord, truly your heart is as vast as the skies above. I am ever grateful for the mercy you have shown this poor soul. Even Aethelhum itself may not be as merciful."
A grin finally cracked across Sieg's face, and for a moment, the two simply looked at each other, teacher and student.
The tension that had coiled around them unraveled in that quiet exchange.
Just then, a voice rang out from behind us.
"What are you all doing loitering around here?" Elara's voice carried from the back entrance, her tone laced with amusement more than irritation.
Zayn turned slightly, replying with a faint smirk, "Ah, nothing. Just a bit of bonding."
Elara raised an eyebrow, her hands on her hips as she tilted her head. "Bond later. Valka's probably already started eating."
I clapped a hand to Sieg's back and steered him forward. "Then let's not keep the table waiting."
With that, the four of us stepped inside the manor together, the air between us lighter than it had been all morning.
For now, things were mending.
And for today, that was enough.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The fire crackled softly in the hearth of my study. Elara and I had been going over the crop plans for the winter season, discussing which root vegetables would best withstand the frost, which herbs needed to be dried and stored, and whether we'd need to purchase any special fertilizer from the nearby market.
She stretched with a quiet sigh and gathered her notes. "That should cover everything for now. I'll let Silas know in the morning."
I nodded, scribbling one last note in the margins of a parchment. "Go on ahead. I'll put all of this away and follow you shortly."
She gave a soft hum of acknowledgment and moved toward the door. But just as she pulled it open, she paused.
"Zayn?"
I looked up at the sound of his name.
He stood there in the doorway, posture relaxed, a familiar glint in his eyes. "Are you two finished?"
Elara's brows rose slightly. "We are. What are you doing here?"
Zayn glanced briefly at me, then back at her. "Just wanted to speak with Lord Throvald. Won't take long."
She stared at him for a beat, her eyes searching his face. Then, with a small nod, she stepped aside. "Alright. Don't keep him up too late."
As she exited, Zayn stepped in, closing the door gently behind him. His movements were casual, but there was something faintly deliberate in the way he reached toward his waist.
"Something wrong?" I asked, arching a brow.
In answer, he pulled a bottle of wine from his magic pouch—deep red glass, polished, elegant—and two slender crystal glasses. He gave a small smirk as he held them up.
"I thought we could have a drink."
A quiet smile escaped me. "I guess we can."
Moments later, we were seated across from each other in the leather chairs near the fireplace, the wine poured, the bottle resting between us like an old friend.
Zayn leaned back with a content sigh. "Whew… I was honestly worried you'd say no. Heard you stopped drinking?"
I swirled the dark red liquid in my glass, watching how the light danced through it. "I did, mostly. Wanted to keep myself in the best shape possible. So I could watch over Sieg without the fog of age catching up too quickly."
Zayn gave a slow nod. "Makes sense. Still, thank you, for today."
I glanced at him. "For what?"
He looked down at his glass. "I was able to make up with him. Because of you."
I waved the thought off. "There's no need to thank me for that. I imagine you would've come around on your own. You're better with people than you think."
Zayn smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"…That's kind of you to say, but I know myself too well," he said. "It's hard for me to deal with kids his age. I never had the best relationship with my father. Things only started getting better once I was an adult. So when I try to talk to Sieg, I… I find myself slipping into that same cold, rigid tone. I know what I should say, but I don't know how to say it."
He looked down at his glass again, but I had the sense he wasn't seeing it. What he was really looking at… was his own reflection, distorted by the wine. The mistakes he made. The father he didn't want to become.
I let the silence stretch a little before responding, gently. "I get it. More than you might think."
His eyes flicked up to meet mine. And then, unexpectedly, he said—
"You know… you have something special. A good family. This barony runs smoothly. The people respect you. Even most of the neighboring nobles hold you in high regard…" He gave a short breath of a laugh. "Well. Most."
That earned a grin from me.
He looked away. "Truthfully, I wish I could be like you."
The confession landed like a stone dropped into still water. I didn't know what to say. Coming from Zayn, that meant something. That meant a lot.
"The month I spent here," he continued, softer now, "was more peaceful than most of my life. No schemes, no betrayals. Just… real people. A warm hearth. A boy who drives me insane and still makes me proud."
I looked at him, then down at the flickering flames in the hearth.
"I only did what I could," I murmured. "It's all thanks to the people around me. Elara. Silas. The villagers. Valka… even with all the chaos she brings." A faint smile tugged at my lips. "We built this place together."
Zayn raised his glass slightly.
"Thank you," he said, voice firm, quiet. "For giving me a place in this dwelling of yours."
I leaned forward and clinked my glass gently against his.
"What are you talking about?" I said with a laugh. "You're part of our family, Zayn. You always were."
He didn't answer right away.
But he smiled, and this time, it did reach his eyes.