Arcane Citadel

Alex woke up to a fresh day as the sun painted the sky in soft colors, a gentle breeze carrying the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers, marking the arrival of spring in Accelfabia. It was a beautiful morning, and the warmth of the season touched even the western region of the continent, particularly in Greymore County. It had been 5 years since the Fenrir incident making Alex 12 years old.

Returning from the countryside training with Mr. Hound, Alex had experienced growth not only in magic level but also in height. His jet-black hair had grown out, a fact he was well aware wouldn't go unnoticed by his mother, given her propensity for taming rebellious locks.

As he approached the main residence, a castle befitting a decorated war veteran, vines adorned a few sides, enhancing its regal appearance. Alex couldn't help but think about his imminent encounter with his mother, who, without a doubt, would have something to say about his now longer hair.

Entering the castle, he found his father, Count William Greymore, in the main hall, overseeing some matters. "Good morning, Father," greeted Alex.

Count Greymore looked up, a proud smile crossing his face. "Alex, my boy! Back from your training, I see. How was it?"

"Intense, as always," replied Alex, a hint of tiredness in his voice.

His father chuckled, "Well, you'll get the hang of it soon, and," he added, eyeing Alex's hair, "looks like you've grown in another aspect too. Your mother will have a thing or two to say about this."

Alex ran a hand through his hair, a sheepish grin on his face. "I can already imagine."

Count Greymore laughed heartily, "Ah, the battles we wage at home. I'm sure it'll be an interesting reunion. Go on, she's in her study. Brace yourself."

With a nod and a smirk, Alex made his way to the main hall which was adjacent to his mother's study.

As Alex entered his mother's study, the air carried a mixture of the comforting scent of parchment and the faint aroma of earth, a telltale sign of his mother's affinity for earth magic. Countess Rovena Greymore, with her chocolate-coloured hair and piercing green eyes, looked up from her desk as Alex approached.

"Alex, my dear," she greeted, a stern expression on her face. "What have you done to your hair? It's grown wild again. You know how important appearances are."

Alex scratched the back of his head, offering a sheepish smile. "I know, Mother. It just got away from me during training and also is this the first thing you say to your son who has come back after 3 years of rough training?"

Rovena sighed, her eyes glowing with a subtle green hue as she invoked her earth magic. Unseen tendrils bound Alex gently, restricting his movement. She turned to Daisy, Alex's personal maid and trusted friend. "Daisy, dear, give him a proper trim, would you?"

Daisy, always ready with a pair of scissors, approached with a mischievous glint in her eye. She snipped away a few unruly locks, leaving Alex with a neat, shortish trim. Despite the temporary nature of the earth restraints, Alex resigned himself to the impromptu haircut.

Rovena, satisfied with the outcome, released the magical bindings. Alex rubbed his head, ruffling his newly trimmed hair. "Thanks, Mother. I needed that."

Rovena pulled him into a warm embrace. "You're a Greymore, my son. Appearances matter. Now, go wash up. You must be hungry."

Just as Alex was about to make his exit, Siesta burst into the room with youthful exuberance. "Alex! Alex!" she called out, running toward him.

The newest addition to the Greymore family, Siesta Greymore, brought an extra dose of joy and laughter to the household. With chocolate-hued locks cascading down her shoulders, a striking resemblance to her mother, and enchanting grey eyes inherited from her father, Siesta's presence added a delightful blend of her parents' features. At the age of five, she exuded a natural charm, her facial features mirroring her mother's elegance. Siesta's playful laughter echoed through the halls of the castle, weaving a heartwarming melody that enriched the Greymore residence with a newfound warmth and familial bliss.

Alex scooped her up, a big brother's smile on his face. However, a subtle look from his mother made him gently place Siesta back on her feet. "Later, Siesta. I'm starving. Let's go find something to eat."

As they left the room, the echoes of Siesta's laughter mixed with the subtle rustle of leaves, creating a snapshot of familial moments in the heart of the Greymore residence.

The sound of clinking utensils and the smell of a good breakfast filled the air. The family talked and teased, and as they enjoyed the meal, Count William Greymore turned to his son with a curious glint in his eye.

"So, Alex, I recently reached the 6th circle myself" he began, "what circle are you at now in your magical training?"

Being a 6th circle magician at such a young age was something not very common in the world. The only other man to do it at such a young age was Baron Sebastian Crowe.

"Woah Dad that is amazing!!!" exclaimed Alex, then taking a sip of his juice, with a casual smile playing on his lips he mentioned. "Oh, I'm at the 3rd circle now."

His father's eyes widened slightly spitting out his juice, a mixture of surprise and pride in his gaze. "Well, well, a 3rd circle at your age. That's quite impressive, son."

Rovena had a stunned expression on her face while Siesta was clueless looking from one family member to another.

Circles, etched on a magician's heart, represented the amount of mana they could store and manipulate. Magicians, in their pursuit of magical knowledge, engraved the essence of magic within themselves. The number of circles became a tangible measure of their magical prowess. With Count Greymore's recent achievement of the 6th circle and Alex's unprecedented ascent to the 3rd circle at the age of 12, the breakfast table conversation resonated with the Greymore family's extraordinary magical aptitude.

Recovering from the initial shock, William turned to Alex, and with a curious expression, he inquired, "By the way, Alex, where's Hound? Shouldn't he have accompanied you back?"

Setting down his fork, Alex took a moment before responding, "Oh, Mr. Hound left for an adventure to the west of the border. Said he wanted to learn more about magic and all. He gave up once, you know, but after training with me he said, he got a new perspective. He wanted to show you how much he had grown but now that you're 6th circle, it's better that he doesn't know or he might get demotivated."

"I know him better than most, he won't be disappointed, he would get more pumped up," William said with a hint of loneliness and also pride.

As the breakfast dishes were cleared away, Count William Greymore reached into his pocket and produced a sealed letter. Handing it to Alex with a serious expression, he said, "Alex, this is from Arcane Citadel, the magic knight school where I graduated. They've called you to enrol."

The thought of a school dedicated to magic knights intrigued Alex. He had given it some thought and had come to the conclusion that there must be someplace like a school where the nobles and commoners get their education and magic training.

William looking directly into Alex's eyes continued," And it's not just about education. For nobles like us, it's a duty to both our family name and the kingdom. The school not only imparts knowledge but also trains you for the responsibilities that come with nobility. You'll undergo rigorous magical training and, in the end, embark on expeditions to the border to protect our lands from the ever-present threat of monsters. It's a crucial part of your noble duty, son, and an experience that will shape you into a true Greymore. Consider it an opportunity and a responsibility."

Little did Alex and William grasp the significance of the letter, it would soon propel Alex into a series of events unforeseen—a storm brewing on the horizon. The letter, seemingly innocuous, carried the weight of impending destiny, a narrative yet to unfold. In the quiet present, shadows of a future entwined with kingdom-altering twists loomed, all veiled beneath the surface of ordinary moments.