Chapter 3 - Childhood

Edmund stood in the small bedroom, gazing down at his newborn son with a look that mingled paternal pride and regal dignity. Though he was motionless, his mind raced, already mapping out a future for young Wesley. After a few moments of contemplation, Edmund, having gathered his thoughts, spoke in a respectful tone:

“Old man Rale, would you test his magical affinities?” Edmund asked, looking over at the dark-robed elder.

Rale gave a simple nod, stepped forward, and placed a hand on Wesley's tiny head. He muttered an incantation under his breath. His hand briefly glowed but quickly dimmed. A faint smile appeared on Rale’s face as he spoke:

“He has an average affinity with darkness. Not enough to become a mage.”

Edmund felt a pang of disappointment but wasn’t overly concerned. After all, mages were rare. He turned next to the armored warrior standing nearby.

“Robert, check his warrior affinities.”

Robert approached Wesley, kneeling down beside him. He began a thorough examination, gently moving the infant’s arms and legs, tapping his abdomen, and feeling his muscles. After a few moments of assessment, Robert looked up at Edmund and spoke in a near-apologetic tone:

“His muscles are average, brother. He could be trained, but he won’t have the strength to compete with those who are innately gifted.”

Edmund’s disappointment deepened. He realized that Wesley might never achieve greatness. Still, he consoled himself with the thought that his line was at least secure.

After a brief silence, Edmund turned toward the exit, carrying Wesley in his arms. He didn’t so much as glance at the unconscious mother on the bed. As he reached the gates of the small courtyard, the soldiers stationed outside snapped to attention. Edmund and his companions climbed into an extravagant carriage and set off toward the Royal Palace.

Castle Holt was in a celebratory mood for days afterward. Festivities erupted throughout the castle, drawing merchants, circus performers, and entertainers from all over the kingdom. It wasn’t long before the entire castle became a lively festival. Nobles and notable figures flocked to congratulate Edmund on his new heir, showering him with gifts and marriage proposals.

For the next few years, Wesley lived the pampered life of a baby prince. Occasionally, he was shown off at royal balls to visiting dignitaries and nobles. But on his second birthday, an event occurred that would alter his future drastically.

King Edmund Holt, the thirty-first King of the Ject Kingdom, welcomed a second son. Edmund could hardly believe it; after years of childlessness, he now had two sons in two years. His joy was impossible to hide. This second son, after testing, showed a high affinity for fire and an above-average warrior affinity. Edmund was ecstatic. The contrast between his two sons was striking—like night and day.

The second son was named Delan Holt and was promptly designated as crown prince. This decision came as no surprise: Delan not only showed far greater potential than Wesley, but he was also the son of the queen, while Wesley was born to a concubine.

Wesley’s life as the second prince was not drastically different from his previous one. He continued to live a life of comfort, though now with fewer appearances and privileges. Since Edmund’s attention shifted entirely to his talented second son, Wesley was left largely in the care of maids and servants. His mother had passed away shortly after his birth, leaving him truly alone within the royal court.

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[Five years later]

Castle Holt was in a celebratory mood, as today marked King Edmund Holt’s fiftieth year on the throne—a tremendous achievement, considering most kings reigned for thirty years or so. Nobles, notables, and dignitaries from all four kingdoms had come to pay their respects, and many were also eager to see the genius crown prince who had become the envy of the realm.

Edmund sat in his study, wearing a formal golden robe adorned with the Holt family emblem—a blue, green-eyed eagle—embroidered on the back. Beside him sat the queen, with a small child around five years old in a white robe with a matching emblem on her lap.

Edmund was about to head out to the ball when he noticed Wesley’s absence. Under most circumstances, he would have dismissed it, but tonight, Wesley’s absence at this significant celebration could easily be interpreted as an insult to the king. With a frown, Edmund turned to a nearby servant and barked:

“Find Wesley.”

The servant, as if he’d been commanded by a deity, darted out of the study. All the servants knew Wesley well, as they were the ones who had raised him, so it wasn’t difficult to guess where he might be. He spent most of his time either locked in his room or in the Royal Library. After checking the library and not finding him, the servant hurried to his room.

Upon reaching Wesley’s room, the servant opened the door and walked straight in—something he would never ordinarily dare to do. The memory of the king’s furious command had left him shaken, driving him to enter without permission.

As soon as he stepped into the room, the servant was enveloped by a profound darkness, one that seemed to stretch infinitely. Terror flooded him, and he sank to his knees, a wave of dread crashing over him. In his heart, he felt a bone-chilling certainty that his life was forfeit in this unnatural darkness.

As he knelt there, trembling and sobbing, he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Looking up, he met a pair of deep green eyes gazing down at him. His heart lurched as he heard a familiar voice say:

“You really should knock before you enter.”

The servant looked around, realizing that the darkness had vanished. Though the room was dim and unadorned, it no longer carried the oppressive weight of that initial shadow. Wesley stood beside him, a small, reassuring smile on his face. The servant felt a wave of relief wash over him, marveling at his survival when he had been so certain he wouldn’t. Even so, he couldn’t shake the fear from his expression as he asked in a shaky voice:

“Young master, what was that?”

Wesley shook his head with a self-reproaching smile, then helped the servant to his feet.

“It was nothing. Now, why were you looking for me?”

Realizing his mistakes—entering without permission and then questioning the prince—the servant felt a surge of embarrassment and regret. His voice still quivering, he answered:

“The king is waiting for you. The reception is about to begin.”

Wesley recalled that today was the celebration of his father’s fiftieth year on the throne. He gave a small snort and looked at the servant, who was still wiping his face, before saying:

“I see. Lead the way, please.”

The servant nodded with a slight bow and led Wesley back toward the study. When they arrived, the servant stood aside, gesturing for Wesley to enter. Wesley glanced at him with a small smile and said:

“Oh, and keep what you saw today to yourself.”

With that, Wesley walked into the study, not sparing a glance at the servant, whose face had turned ghostly pale.

As Wesley entered, he was immediately tackled by little Delan. Delan adored Wesley, and though Wesley had few friends, he spent most of his free time with his younger brother. Wesley hugged him back, ruffling Delan’s hair—something Delan seemed to enjoy—before moving toward Edmund without another word.

When Wesley was within four feet of the king, he knelt and said:

“Forgive my tardiness, Father.”

Edmund looked at him with an expression void of any warmth or emotion. He merely snorted and said:

“You’ve kept us waiting long enough. Let us go.”

With that, he turned and walked out, little Delan on his right and the queen on his left. Wesley allowed himself a faint smile and followed directly behind Edmund.