First Encounter

That day at the farmlands was not just a miracle—it was the beginning of something far greater.

The villagers and Father, after witnessing my unprecedented compound magic, immediately branded me a prodigy. Yet in the same breath, they made me swear to keep this secret hidden until I was strong enough to defend myself. It was a precaution I found both frustrating and deeply sensible.

From then on, my life became a cycle of trials and errors. I threw myself into research, testing combinations until my mana nearly ran dry. I discovered that compound magic wasn’t about brute-forcing two spells together, but about weaving effects in sequence, like threads of a tapestry. Even more fascinating was that it was far easier to blend Beast and Human magic than two of the same type.

And so, armed with this knowledge, I began walking into town not just as Alex Redcliffe, but as a boy with the power to help.

That afternoon, I made my way to the produce vendor’s shop, a basket on my arm and an idea in my head. Mister Brian, the broad-shouldered greengrocer with a smile as warm as the sun, waved me over.

“My lord, the cart wheel again. Can you…?”

“Leave it to me,” I said with a grin, placing my hand on the broken axle. Mana surged. “REPAIR!”

The wood snapped back into place with a satisfying clack. The wheel spun true.

Brian blinked, then laughed. “As good as new! But, young lord, shouldn’t someone of your status leave odd jobs like this to others?”

I shook my head. “Mister Brian, you know my family is no longer a Count’s house. Outsiders call us the Foolishly Benevolent Family for giving away our lands to support the people. At this point, we’re closer to town mayors than nobles.”

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling with warmth. “Just like your father. Just like your grandfather. Perhaps fools in the eyes of the world, but to us—their people—they were the truest nobles. And you, young lord, have inherited their heart.” He ruffled my hair, making me flush scarlet.

I bowed lightly. “Thank you. Father once told me: ‘A noble is only a true noble if they have the trust of their people.’ I’ll uphold that trust, no matter what.”

Brian grinned wide. “Then you had best keep at it, lad. For your father and grandfather have already set a high bar.”

The bell tower struck three. I excused myself with a wave, basket of fruit in hand, and hurried off to help others before returning home. But fate had different plans for me.

Near the river, a commotion rose. I heard someone cry out—“Beastkin boy!”—and my heart lurched.

I shoved my way through the crowd and froze. There, half-submerged on the muddy bank, lay a boy with golden hair and feline ears, his small chest rising weakly. His lips were pale, his skin scratched and bruised.

“Make way!” I barked, dropping to my knees. I tilted his head, cleared his airway, and coaxed his breath back. A weak gasp escaped him—life clinging on. Relief flooded me.

“Fetch my father and the carriage!” I ordered one villager. “You—bring the doctor, now!”

Together, we carried the unconscious boy back to Redcliffe Manor. The doctor arrived swiftly, examined him, and sighed in relief.

“No grave injuries,” he reported. “What holds him is not poison or wound, but sheer exhaustion—body and spirit. He will wake when he recovers his strength.”

At those words, Mother clasped her hands, her eyes wet. Father nodded solemnly, though his brow furrowed.

“How did a beastkin boy come this far into human lands?” I asked, baffled. “Wouldn’t he have had to cross all of Sylphia to reach Redcliffe?”

Father considered. “Most likely… slavers. They may have dragged him across the Elven forests, but something happened—an accident, perhaps. Or maybe he leapt into the river himself to escape. If so… brave, indeed.”

Mother whispered, voice trembling, “He looks the same age as Alex. Gods, his parents must be frantic.”

I clenched my fists. “Then… can we let him stay here? At least until he recovers? I promise—I’ll treat him like a brother.”

After a moment’s silence, both my parents nodded. My heart lightened.

-----X-----X-----X-----

Three days passed. I scarcely left his side, changing his bandages, wiping sweat from his brow, and praying he would open his eyes. By the third evening, my prayers were answered.

His lashes fluttered. Golden eyes peeked open, hazy with confusion.

“Hey,” I whispered, leaning close. “It’s alright. You’re safe. Do you remember your name?”

“I am… I am…” His face twisted in pain. “I don’t remember.”

“Then what about what happened?”

Slowly, haltingly, he spoke. “…I was returning from my grandfather’s house. Slavers came. My mother… she was killed. They took me. But I ran—I jumped into a river to escape… and then…” His voice broke. “Where am I?”

“You’re in Redcliffe, in the Human Realm,” I explained gently. “I’m Alex Redcliffe. Do you remember where home is, so we can send you back?”

He shook his head. “No… I don’t remember anything more.”

A pang struck my chest. I squeezed his hand. “Then, until your memories return… will you be my brother? Will you stay with us?”

He blinked at me, then gave a small nod. “Yes. But… could you give me a name? Until I remember my real one?”

I studied him for a moment, the golden shimmer of his hair catching the candlelight. Then I smiled. “How about Orien? For your golden crown.”

“Orien…” He rolled the word on his tongue, then smiled faintly. “I like it.”

And that was how I met Orien. Neither of us could have known that the choice I made that night—the moment I called him brother—would shape a future far greater than either of us imagined.