Lost in the Path of Fate

Chapter 167 - History

"This... this is not Ronnovian," Pier spoke as he tried to take a step back but the window stopped him from doing so.

The man was definitely not Ronnovian as the headmaster had dark auburn hair and did not have different eye colors.

"Are you seeing ghosts, Silas?" Pier's father inquired while rocking the baby gently.

Pier observed him long enough.

Hair as dark as the night, eyes that were of varying colors. One was gold and another was blue.

"Who... is this man..." He whispered but Silas made another incomprehensible noise while reaching out for him.

The dream then ended.

---

Asher entered his study with a tired body. His head was hurting as he had so many things to do, especially in the restoration of the facilities and buildings that were destroyed in the invasion.

He went to sit on the chair placed by his table and saw that there was a new set of piled documents he needed to review and sign.

"Ugh," He groaned while sitting on the comfortable chair.

His back immediately feeling the relief brought by the soft cushions of the material he was sitting on.

"I'm so tired." He wanted to sleep and rest for days or even weeks but he cannot even have a single moment throughout the hours of his duty. The damage imposed upon the kingdom was too great that it would probably take Taron months or even years to recuperate the loss.

Thousands upon thousands have died in the war wherein the population slimmed down by a huge margin.

It was total chaos. The remnants of the battle were all over the place and more bodies were still yet to be recovered.

Staring at his gloved hand, he smiled gently when he remembered someone who gave him the gloves meant for sword training.

It was the same set Pier had given him on his birthday years ago but a newly tailored one that fit his current hand since the original did not fit.

Asher wondered how Pier had been doing now but the answer was obvious. The white-haired young master, no, king, was doing well without Asher in his life.

The last memory of the noble that he saw was Pier's retreating back while carrying a small dragon in his arms and his knight cooing at the creature.

It was still vivid. The memory was one of the greatest he held.

The Pier he knew years ago cannot even cast the smallest of magic spells yet the one he saw in the war was an astounding figure that wreaked havoc and danger.

While wearing an elegant suit and a long, white robe, the young king stood at the top of the skies and created the biggest magic spell the kingdom had ever seen.

Flames that erupted from beneath the earth and onto the heavens which trapped the enemies inside.

They could not return, they cannot escape. Along with his powerful swordmaster, the white-haired king created an astounding battlefield that made it impossible for their enemies to win.

"So powerful," Asher commented with a smile as he reminisced what occurred months ago.

But then, his thoughts started to drift somewhere. Weeks ago, his father had taken him into one of the rooms in the palace that even the House of Masters cannot go into.

---

"What are we doing here, father?" Asher asked as they entered the room.

"Have you ever wondered what happened to your mother?" Henry asked as they walked across the dark and seemingly desolate place. No sunlight got inside as windows were not present there either.