Veil: Tale of a 16 Moons [FANTASY EPIC] [MAGICAL COMING OF AGE + ROMANCE]

Winds of Change

Veritas:

Hours slipped by unnoticed, the beautiful sunset painting the horizon in vibrant hues, yet Veritas remained unable to appreciate the scene.

He felt an intense feeling of not knowing what lay ahead, lost in a flood of uncertainties.

Where would he even go?

What options did he have?

Could he manage on his own?

These questions looped persistently in his thoughts, yet answers remained out of reach. Driven by an urgent need for solace, he surrendered his feet, leading him back to the rundown farm, hoping against hope that his father was still holding on. However, beyond that, he found himself devoid of any definite direction to pursue.

Alaric:

The prince hastened toward the blacksmith's table on the outskirts of town. As he knocked on the maple door, its resounding echo startled him, nearly causing him to retreat. However, before he could react, the door swung open. A gruff voice beckoned him inside. Stepping into the room, his eyes scanned the surroundings. Arrayed before him were an array of spears, maces, swords, bows, and daggers, each meticulously displayed on maple-painted wooden holders adorned with golden inscriptions. The blacksmith's pride in his collection remained undiminished since Alaric's last visit.

"What brought you here, My Highness?"

Alaric closed the door that he entered from, feeling a cold gust of wind on his back.

"Hello Clayton, assassins..." he began, but his words were promptly interrupted.

"I heard about the attack. Why don't I get you some food? You can settle down. I'm sure you've been running from them for a while, and then we can have a chat."

Without allowing Alaric to speak further, the dark, towering man left the room. Left alone once again with his thoughts, Alaric paced within the cramped yet deadly space, his gaze shifting between the weapons adorning the walls, contemplating his next move.

While it seemed that the blacksmith was on his side, Alaric's upbringing in matters of politics instilled skepticism within him. Goldacre could only have one blacksmith, and they had to excel in profit-making. Alaric couldn't fully trust Clayton just yet.

After a few more minutes of restless pacing, the door swung open, forcefully pushed by the hulking figure. Clayton placed a simple bowl of porridge on the dining table near the kitchen.

Alaric wasted no time, hungrily devouring the food before him. Clayton observed silently, his gaze steady and inscrutable. Once he was done and wiped up, the blacksmith started speaking in a low voice,

"Prince, working in the Acres isn't safe for you. But there's a way to survive. If you join the swordsmanship academy, you won't draw attention. Plus, you'll have access to a vast library and ways to earn. Trust me, it's your best chance to stay hidden."

Alaric doubted the truthfulness of his words, but let him continue.

"It's best to avoid Goldacre Academy. The safer option is Shimmeracre Academy. It's not in the heart of the capital, but it offers safety to earn before you move on. You're a wanted criminal now. There's a bounty on your head. Thank Lutra you survived so far, Alaric."

Alaric nodded, feeling uneasy. "I should go now. Thanks for the food and hospitality. I don't want to risk putting you in danger."

Clayton's face suddenly lit up, and he erupted into loud laughter, pounding his large fist on the table. Alaric, puzzled, asked, "What's going on?"