Luenor strolled down the wide street slowly. The soles of his shoes made little sound on the worn stone. As he passed some older villagers, and several freed miners, they leaned their heads respectfully, bowed in reverence, or merely stated "Sir Alfrenzo," or "Young Master," not bothering to ask. He nodded back at each. His expression remained calm, and warm.
Lyssari noticed him first. A warm smile appeared on her pale face and she said, "You did well today, Luenor Sureva." Feeling playful, she added, "But that does not mean you should get carried away with your honorary title."
Luenor chuckled, brushing back his hair with one hand, "It was only my first day truly moving forward." He added lightly, but his eyes grew thoughtful, "Though more in the future means that much longer of a road forward to travel before I can stand beside the Hunter… to truly be powerful enough to change, well, everything."
Lyssari's smile softened, "You are already very strong at your age," she said in a soft voice, "More than anyone I have met."
"There's always someone stronger," Luenor said, glancing off to the side to the towering pines that ringed the settlement. "There's always another mountain."
She laughed, gently nudging his arm. Wearily, she said, "Careful now philosopher, you'll be the mountain someday, the one everyone has to climb."
They chatted for a while, about her forest magic and how she could now manipulate branches and leaves nearly at will, about how Eclion had turned into a clamouring, bustling city. Lyssari had a serious moment. "The Marquis will come, Luenor. He will want revenge."
Luenor nodded, his face placid. "Then I will be ready."
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Thalanar had wrung every secret from the Marquis's spy before sending her back to the Marquis's lands a live person. Telmar had raised his eyebrow at that—he had expected Luenor to have her killed. But Thalanar had merely said quietly, "Dead lips close doors. A live tongue opens many more."
Hunter said nothing, leaving the hall while Thalanar went to check on the patrol teams. Thalanar too, left, although as he walked to the warehouses, he considered the best way to sell or trade the spoils from Moore's army, as loot and spoils had fallen to Eclion and the wounded in refuge as well.
Outside, Luenor found Hera waiting near the training ground. Her face was almost a woman's now—older, her eyes steadier, and still that spark in her green eyes.
She scolded him lightly, pressing a clean set of clothing into his arms. "Bruises all over," she mumbled, fingers grazing the light scars on his shoulder, "How many times do I have to remind you to be careful?"
He just smiled at her, his always calm smile. "These bruises are just the beginning," he said softly, "there will be plenty more before it is over."
She frowned at that and did not retort. "I will have someone call you when some important task needs your attention," she said instead, her hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "And don't wander too far."
"I won't," he promised.
Later, the tranquil heart of the forest, Luenor sat on a weathered stone, the cold bite of the wind sharpening his thoughts. He closed his eyes and slow, deep breaths in and out, as he felt the mana in the air- thin and elusive threads of life and power.
He pulled it inwards, envisioning the pathways it would travel if he had a mana heart. Instead of a heart, he wanted the mana to flow through the channels in his body, gathering in the empty vessel he had forged to create through pain and discipline.
It was a careful balance—drawing the mana in, shaping it, not letting it slip from his grasp. Like a cup without a bottom, he caught what he could, let it swirl in the hollow spaces of his core. His muscles tensed, his breath steady, as if the forest's cold pulse was slowly becoming his own.
After hours, his body began to tremble faintly, his thoughts growing muddy with the strain. With a deep breath, he let the mana settle, knowing he had reached the edge of what he could hold for now.
Opening his eyes, he felt that quiet weight in his veins—a promise of strength he would one day call his own.
Luenor remained seated on the worn stone, the cool mana slowing its smooth swirl around him. He closed his eyes and relaxed allowing each breath to draw in the strength of the forest until he was deeply drawn into its rhythm. And then a voice interrupted.
"Master Luenor!" Arwin's voice was clearly teasing.
Luenor cracked an eyelid and saw Arwin walking toward him. Compared to the last time he had seen him, Arwin had matured, his beard grown in over the years and covering any trace of boyish charm. "The envoy from Como has arrived," Arwin's lips curled into a tiny smirk, "The girl and her guardian are out front waiting for you."
Luenor stood and stretched, a grin forming across his mouth, "Let's race back to Eclion."
Arwin chuckled, his eyes gleamed with competition, "You're on, young master."
They burst from the forest at a full run. They were sure and swift. Years of living and observing the elves gave them movement that would be better assumed than explained, how to properly use what lay ahead of them; the roots and the low boughs and where to place their limbs. Arwin proved very easy to run with. He leapt over fallen logs and weaved around trees like a shadow.
Luenor worked hard to stay even. But Arwin dug deeper, mana flaring in his legs and lungs, and he took off. By the time they finally reached Eclion's edge, Arwin was already there, leaning against a fence with a grin on his face while he watched Luenor trudge up, panting.
"You cheated," Luenor managed, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Using mana like that--"
"Oh come on, it's not my fault you can't channel mana like me," Arwin laughed with a clap on his shoulder. "Maybe next time, young master."
A human attendant was waiting next to the edge of the road and bowed low. "Sir Alfrenzo," he spoke carefully, "the envoy is waiting."
Arwin went first vanishing down the halls, and he stayed in front of Luenor as they reached the large wooden doors Arwin slowed and pulled out a neatly folded cloak and the well-worn voice modulator.
"It's time to become Alfrenzo," Arwin said simply with a smile. Luenor accepted them and nodded his mind still lingering as he carefully pulled the mask of Alfrenzo over his face.