Chapter 4: Journey to the Capital

The royal summons changed everything.

Eryndor had known that his training would one day attract attention, but he hadn't expected it this soon. He was just six years old, yet his name had already reached the royal capital.

His father, Lord Alaric Valeria, had been grim ever since receiving the letter. His mother, Lady Isolde, was more reserved than usual, deep in thought.

This was not an ordinary invitation.

This was a test.

The King wanted to see if the rumors about him were true. And in a world where nobles played deadly games of power, a single mistake could lead to ruin.

But instead of fear, Eryndor felt excitement.

This is my chance.

A chance to step onto the grand stage, to begin establishing influence.

And so, with his heart burning with determination, he prepared for his journey to the capital.

Three days after the letter arrived, Eryndor, his parents, and a small escort of knights departed from the Valeria estate.

The journey to the capital, Eldoria, would take a week on horseback.

For the first time, Eryndor saw the vast world beyond his family's lands.

Endless golden fields stretched under the sky. Villages and farms lined the roads, with commoners stopping to bow as they passed. Merchants, mercenaries, and adventurers travelled along the roads, their stories filling the air.

Everything was alive and vibrant in a way he had only read about in books.

But he also noticed something else poverty and corruption.

Some villages were thriving, but others were struggling.

Children with thin faces watched from the sides of the road. Farmers spoke in hushed whispers about taxation and bandit attacks.

Eryndor frowned.

This kingdom is unstable.

Even at six years old, he could see the cracks in the foundation.

And if he could see it so could the kingdom's enemies.

On the fourth night, their journey took them through a dark forest known as the Blackthorn Woods.

His father's knights rode cautiously, hands resting on their weapons.

"Bandits and rogue mercenaries hide in these parts," one of the knights muttered.

Eryndor stayed alert, his system active, scanning his surroundings.

Then he felt it.

Killing intent.

A chill ran down his spine as a red glow appeared in his vision the system marking an unknown presence.

"Ambush!"

The shout barely left his mouth when arrows rained from the trees.

Knights raised their shields, deflecting the deadly projectiles. Horses reared back, men cursed, and then the bandits attacked.

They burst from the trees, armed with rusted swords and daggers, their faces hidden behind cloth masks.

At least twenty of them.

His father drew his sword, his expression unreadable.

"Protect Eryndor and Lady Isolde!" he ordered.

The knights clashed with the bandits, steel meeting steel, the sounds of battle filling the air.

But Eryndor wasn't scared.

He was angry.

These filthy criminals dared to attack his family?

He clenched his fists, mana rising within him, ready to cast a spell when he noticed something strange.

One of the bandits, a tall man with a scar over his eye, was not fighting.

He stood back, watching calculating.

Eryndor narrowed his eyes.

This isn't just a random attack.

Someone had orchestrated this ambush.

Before Eryndor could think further, a bandit broke through the defenses, rushing toward him.

His mother stood protectively in front of him, summoning a fire spell, but she was too slow.

Eryndor reacted instantly.

His mana surged.

And then he moved.

Faster than he should have.

His body blurred as he sidestepped the incoming blade

CRACK!

With a single, precise strike, he slammed his palm into the bandit's stomach, sending him crashing into the ground.

The knights around him froze in shock.

Eryndor was six years old.

But he had just moved and fought like a trained warrior.

The scarred bandit's eyes widened. He locked eyes with Eryndor, realization dawning on him.

"That's the boy," he muttered. "He's the reason for the attack."

Eryndor's heart pounded.

So this wasn't random.

Someone wanted him dead.

The Aftermath

With his father leading the charge, the bandits were swiftly defeated.

The knights captured the scarred leader, restraining him with chains.

Lord Alaric stepped forward, his sword glinting under the moonlight. "Who sent you?"

The bandit leader spat blood onto the ground, grinning. "You already know, Lord Valeria."

Eryndor saw his father's jaw tighten, but he said nothing.

A moment later, he turned to his men. "Execute them."

And just like that the surviving bandits were slain.

Eryndor watched without flinching.

This was the world he was born into.

And if someone wanted him dead before he had even set foot in the capital…

He needed to be ready for anything.

Three days later, they finally arrived at Eldoria the heart of the kingdom.

The city was massive, its towering stone walls covered in banners bearing the royal crest.

Merchants, nobles, knights, and adventurers filled the streets, and at the very center the Grand Palace stood tall, a monument to the kingdom's power.

Eryndor barely had time to take in the sights before they were escorted directly to the castle.

Inside the royal hall, dozens of nobles were already gathered. The moment he stepped in, whispers spread like wildfire.

"That's the Valeria boy."

"The child prodigy?"

"I heard he awakened magic before he turned five."

"Preposterous. He's just a child."

Eryndor ignored them.

His eyes were fixed forward.

On the throne sat King Alden III, the ruler of the kingdom.

He was a stern, battle-hardened man, his golden crown resting atop his greying hair.

But it was not the king that held Eryndor's attention.

No.

It was the boy standing beside him.

A boy with golden hair and piercing blue eyes only a few years older than Eryndor.

Crown Prince Darius Eldoria.

Their gazes locked.

And in that moment, Eryndor knew...

This boy would be his greatest rival.