Chapter Seven -The Beginning of Brotherhood

Chapter Seven -The Beginning of Brotherhood

The courtyard had fallen into calm. Where roaring crowds once stood, only silence remained, broken now and then by the whisper of a breeze or the distant hoot of a nightbird. The sky above was a deep, endless blue, pierced by the first glimmers of starlight.

Kael sat on the cool stone edge of the academy’s central fountain, boots soaked, shirt rumpled, but a strange calm had settled in his chest. Glenn dropped beside him, arms stretched out behind his head, grinning like he hadn’t just faced the most intense day of his life.

“So…” Glenn drawled, giving him a sideways look, “Warborn, huh? Never heard of that one before.”

Kael chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, neither have I. But the way the old man looked at me... it was like he’d seen a ghost.”

Glenn burst out laughing. “Right? I mean, I was just relieved when he called me Metalforged. It’s not glamorous, but it makes sense. My father was one too. But you—” he pointed at Kael with a lazy finger, “—you’re something else.”

Kael glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers like he expected them to glow or shift or crackle with something unearthly. “I don’t feel different. Just… confused.”

Glenn leaned back on his elbows, gazing up at the emerging stars. “I’d take mysterious over boring any day, man. So, what’s the plan now?”

Kael let out a long breath. “Go home. Get some rest. Tomorrow’s the first day of training. I’d rather not stumble in half-asleep.”

Glenn grinned. “Smart man. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then, Warborn.”

Kael smirked at the nickname. “See you.”

His home was quiet when he returned. The wooden door creaked softly as he pushed it open, and the warm scent of crushed herbs drifted toward him.

His mother sat at the table near the hearth, sorting bundles of plants with practiced hands. She looked up and smiled gently.

“You’re late,” she said.

“Long day,” he replied, sinking into the chair across from her.

She set down the herbs and folded her hands. “Want to share something?”

He hesitated, then exhaled. “The trials were... intense. I barely made it through. But I did. I met some amazing people too. Ryzen helped, of course. And I made a new friend—Glen. He’s a Metalforged.”

Her brow lifted slightly. “Ohh. You’ve chosen your company well.”

Kael nodded. “Yeah. And then… there was the stone.”

She went still, the flicker of the lantern dancing in her eyes.

“The Sage read everyone’s element,” Kael continued. “Fireborn, Windcaller, Aquabender… but when I touched it—he said something I’ve never heard before. Warborn.”

For a moment, she didn’t move. A shadow passed behind her eyes before she composed herself, masking whatever emotion flickered there.

“Warborn…” she said softly, almost to herself.

Kael leaned forward. “You know what it means, don’t you?”

She was quiet. Then, finally, she shook her head. “Not enough to explain. But you will find your answers, Kael. In time.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Everyone else got something clear. Something… known. Mine just gave me more questions.”

She reached across the table and placed her hand gently over his.

“Then ask them,” she said. “And when the answers come, face them with the same strength that got you this far.”

He smiled faintly, warmed by her voice more than her words. “Thanks, Mom.”

She smiled in return. “Now go. You’ve got an early morning, don’t you? Your journey begins tomorrow.”

Kael’s room was small, barely enough for a bed, a cracked mirror, and a trunk of worn clothes. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, the silence pressing in on him like a weight.

Warborn.

The word echoed through his thoughts, turning over and over, deeper and stranger with each repetition.

What did it mean? Why had the generals reacted that way? Why had his mother’s face darkened with that word?

Eventually, his eyelids grew heavy. The whisper of wind through the shutters lulled him.

His eyes drifted closed.

The screen faded to black.

Golden rays filtered through the thin drapes of Kael’s room, casting warm lines across the floor. The light nudged him gently from sleep. He stirred, blinked away the last of his dreams, and sat up, the events of the previous day pulsing through his memory.

“First day,” he murmured, rubbing his face before throwing off the covers. “Here we go.”

He moved quickly, dressing in the simple academy-issued uniform laid out the night before. His boots hit the wooden floor with a satisfying thud. The house was quiet, the air tinged with the faint scent of lavender and dry earth.

A soft knock sounded against his doorframe. Lily peeked in, her smile warm and laced with pride.

“You’re up early.”

Kael grinned, straightening the collar of his tunic. “Big day.”

She stepped into the room and held out a small cloth bundle, tied with care. “I packed you something. I know they’ll feed you, but… I wanted you to have a piece of home.”

Kael took it gently. The cloth was warm from her hands.

“Thanks, Mom.”

She reached up and squeezed his shoulder, eyes glimmering. “Make me proud.”

He nodded, voice steady. “I will.”

The academy gates stood tall and resolute as he approached, the morning light glinting off their iron crest. Stone-paved paths wound through manicured courtyards and toward the towering buildings that made up the Defense Academy. At the gate, leaning with practiced nonchalance, was Glenn.

“Took you long enough,” Glenn called, smirking.

Kael rolled his eyes. “Thought you said you weren’t a morning person.”

Glenn shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I oversleep. Yet.”

They stepped inside together, the air buzzing with energy and hushed voices of recruits navigating the wide halls.

Eventually, they arrived at a grand classroom, where rows of stone benches curved in tiers around a raised platform. A dozen students had already claimed seats. At the front stood a tall man, his posture perfect, his eyes sharp as steel beneath silvering hair.

“Settle down,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

The room fell silent.

“I am Master Edwin. I will be one of your instructors through the next twelve months. Before you lift a blade or call upon your gifts, you must understand the land you protect.”

He turned to a massive map that unfurled behind him—aged canvas mounted in oak, its painted lines stretching wide across a realm of rivers, forests, deserts, and borders marked in bold ink.

“This is Vaeloria,” he began. “Our home. Nestled between the eastern seas and the northern highlands, we possess fertile plains and defensible peaks. To our west, the great Mirvath River forms the divide between us and our most dangerous rival—the Dominion of Zareth.”

The names stirred quiet murmurs through the room.

“We are bordered by eight realms. To the north, Durmara—its people are forged in cold and battle. To the east, Solmara—our closest ally, whose ships share our ports. To the south, Thalvoss—a kingdom of shifting sands and sharper daggers. And southeast, Eldoria—keepers of the forests, neutral yet not passive.”

He paced slowly to the other side of the map.

“To the west, Zareth. An empire born for conquest. Their ambition knows no peace. Beyond them lie the shattered lands of Vorthgard—no rulers, only warbands. Then Icespire to the north—a frozen land of survivors hardened by snow and silence. And finally, Valtheris—a kingdom once great, now lost to civil war and ruin.”

Kael leaned forward, his eyes scanning the map as each name seared into memory. Beside him, Glenn scribbled notes in his palm with a coal stick.

“Our strength lies not only within our city walls,” Master Edwin continued, “but in the villages and fiefdoms that dot the countryside. Each one loyal to noble houses, each one vital to our survival.”

He turned, folding his arms across his chest. The room stilled again.

“Vaeloria was not founded by a king,” Edwin said, his voice lowering. “But by a warrior. General Edran. Under the twin crowns of Athnar, he saw weakness, and division. He chose another path. He led his people to these lands, carved order from chaos, and forged a new nation—one ruled not by bloodline, but by valor.”

Kael whispered to Glenn, “A general who built a kingdom…”

Glenn nodded, eyes fixed on the map. “Sounds like he had conviction.”

Edwin heard them. He didn’t scold. Instead, he met Kael’s gaze and spoke to them all.

“Remember this history. Know it like the grip of your sword. For it is not just the strength of your arm or the force of your gift that will define you—but the legacy you choose to uphold.”

He stepped forward from the map, his presence commanding.

“Now, let us begin.”

The classroom was still, save for the sound of parchment shifting and the soft scrape of chairs as students leaned forward. Master Edwin stood tall at the front, a quiet authority emanating from every word.

“Next,” he said, voice calm yet commanding, “we discuss the elemental powers—what you will wield, what you will master.”

Behind him, a large rune-etched chart shimmered into focus, glowing softly with various hues—red, blue, green, violet, and stranger tones that pulsed and changed like living light.

“There are twenty-one known elemental affinities,” Edwin continued. “Each grants its bearer unique strengths and responsibilities.”

He turned slightly and gestured toward the glowing chart.

“Fireborn. Aquaheart. Stormcaller. Frostborn. Windwalker. Shadowmancer. Radiant. Poisonborn. Metalforged. Floraforge. Bloodcaster. Tidebringer. Ashborn. Beastborn. Crystalkin. Necromancer. Sandwalker. Psychoknight. Windforged. And…”

He paused, his eyes drifting briefly toward Kael.

“…Warborn.”

Murmurs rolled through the room like a slow breeze. The names carried weight—some familiar, some foreign, all laced with wonder and danger.

A girl in the second row raised her hand. “What’s the difference between Windwalker and Windforged?” she asked.

Edwin nodded approvingly. “An important distinction. Windwalkers are graceful and swift—they use air to enhance their movement, speed, and perception. Windforged, however, bend wind into solid forms—blades, shields, even compressed bursts of pressure capable of destroying stone. Every element has layers, and mastery lies in understanding those subtleties.”

A boy in the back called out before Edwin could continue. “And Warborn? That sounds… different.”

Kael tensed. The word rang in his chest again, heavy and undefined.

Edwin’s gaze shifted briefly to him before returning to the class. “Warborn,” he said slowly, “is a rare affinity. Unlike the others, it is not drawn from a single element—but from the essence of battle itself.”

Whispers spread again.

“Those born under its mark possess natural regeneration—the ability to recover from wounds faster than any known healing art. But more importantly, they develop a secondary ability. One that is unique to them. Not taught. Not inherited. It is awakened only through hardship, through necessity.”

Kael’s brows furrowed. He raised his hand, uncertain but compelled.

“So… I have regeneration,” he said, “but the other part—I have to figure that out myself?”

Edwin looked at him directly, his expression unreadable. “Exactly. Warborn are forged—not by choice, but by trial. Your true power will only reveal itself when the world demands it.”

Silence followed.

Kael looked down at his hand, clenching it slowly. The concept was frightening, yet somehow… familiar. Not gifted. Earned.

He whispered to himself, “Earn it, huh…”

Edwin gave the class a moment before shifting focus. “Before we conclude, understand this: power alone is not enough. Your place in this kingdom will be defined by how you use it.”

He paced slowly along the platform.

“Our kingdom is ruled by a single monarch—King Alden. Beneath him, four Generals command our military might. Under their command are the Soldiers, who protect our borders and uphold our laws.”

He turned toward the map again, gesturing toward the capital.

“Then come the Ministers—advisors of great knowledge, who shape policy and guide the King’s decisions. The Royalties—noble houses and council members—serve the crown in matters of governance and war.”

The students listened, some wide-eyed, others taking quiet notes.

“Beyond our walls live the Villagers—farmers, herders, gatherers. They are our lifeblood. Within the capital, Citizens build, teach, and heal. The Smiths forge weapons of war and tools of peace. The Sailors guard our waters and trade our goods. And the Merchants… they connect the pieces together.”

Edwin’s tone grew resolute.

“Every person has a role. Whether you rise to command armies or stand at the village gate, your purpose is shaped by your strength, your skill, and your will. This academy will help reveal that purpose. But the path… the path must be yours to walk.”

He stepped back, hands clasped behind him.

“That is all for today. Rest well. Tomorrow—your training begins.”

Kael rose from his seat slowly, the words still echoing in his mind. Around him, students buzzed with excitement and questions, but his thoughts drifted inward.

Warborn.

Earn it.

Whatever tomorrow brought, it would demand everything.