“YES!”

  The word escaped Reid’s mouth before he could even think.

  The man smiled faintly — not with joy, but as though he’d expected that answer all along. He placed his empty mug down and straightened his back.

  “Well then,” he said, his tone calm but commanding. “Let me introduce myself. My name is Harven Klutz — second-in-command of the royal army under King Rucon of Aquilonis.”

  Reid froze, eyes wide. “You are…”

  Harven nodded, almost amused by the boy’s awe. “Yes. I’m the vice-commander of Sir Baranor Klutz — my brother.”

  The name hit Reid like lightning. “You— you’re Baranor’s brother?”

  A flicker of warmth touched Harven’s usually still face. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Though between you and me, he’s the real legend. I just try to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.”

  Reid’s voice trembled with excitement. “Sir Baranor is my hero!”

  Harven chuckled, cutting him off gently. His gaze drifted toward the open book still lying on the counter. “I figured as much. You’ve got that same spark he once had — small but burning.”

  He leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “Tell me, Reid — that eye of yours.” His gaze shifted to the faint mark glowing in Reid’s left iris. “You’ve got a Beast Eye, I see. Do you know what kind of Beast lies behind it?”

  Reid hesitated. “No, sir. I’ve never known. It just… appeared when I was born.”

  Harven slung his travel pack over one shoulder. “In Aquilonis, we have an academy for young warriors like you. Children with talent… or the will to earn it.” He adjusted the strap across his chest. “There’s a medium there — he can tell you which Beast lives within that eye. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll learn what to do with that power.”

  Reid blinked, his heart pounding. “An academy? You mean… I could train there?”

  Harven nodded. “If you’re serious.”

  He started toward the door, his heavy boots echoing on the wooden floor. But before he left, he looked back over his shoulder.

  “Are you coming, Reid?”

  Reid opened his mouth — but the words didn’t come easily. His gaze drifted toward the small cradle in the corner. Arttu slept peacefully, his tiny hands curled beside his face. The soft sound of his breathing filled the room.

  Reid’s throat tightened. “Sir… I have a little brother to take care of,” he said quietly, glancing toward the cradle. “And the kingdom — it’s so far away. I also need to talk to the people here in the tavern first. Can you… wait a little?”

  Harven studied him for a moment, then nodded once. “Responsibility before ambition,” he said. “Good answer.”

  He turned toward the door again. “I’ll be in Promia for two days. There’s a tavern there — The Iron Pike. Ask for me, and they’ll point you my way.”

  Reid stood still, the words echoing in his head. Promia. Two days. The academy.

  Harven paused at the doorway as sunlight caught the metal of his nunchaku. “Hope to see you soon, Reid,” he said. “Don’t make me wait too long.”

  “Goodbye, sir,” Reid said softly.

  Harven gave a faint nod — the kind only soldiers share — and stepped out into the daylight. The tavern door closed behind him with a quiet thud.

  Reid stood there for a long moment, staring at the door. His pulse raced, his thoughts spinning. Somewhere deep in his chest, something old and half-buried stirred again — the same spark that had survived fire and grief.

  For the first time in months, he felt it clearly.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  A calling.

  A few hours passed, and little Fiona was awake.

  Reid made her a small breakfast — buttered bread and warm milk — and played with her near the hearth. Her laughter filled the room, soft and pure, like bells under sunlight.

  But Reid’s thoughts were far away.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about Harven’s words. About the academy. About the chance to become someone.

  An opportunity — a real one. He’d never felt anything like it.

  He’d dreamed of being like Baranor ever since he’d learned to read his name.

  Now the door to that path stood open.

  But Arttu…

  Could he really leave him behind?

  Arttu was everything — the last trace of his mother, the reason he still woke up each day.

  He had sworn to protect him.

  And now that promise and his dream were pulling him in opposite directions.

  While he sat lost in thought, the door creaked open.

  Betty entered, her cheeks rosy from the cold, calling over her shoulder,

  “I’m thinking of making mutton stew! Would you like that, my hairy bear?”

  Roy’s voice rumbled with laughter from behind her.

  “Wouldn’t I, you sweet beet!”

  They were always like that — trading affection like it was air. A little embarrassing, sure, but it warmed the room more than the fire ever could.

  Reid smiled. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Tungsten.”

  “Hello, Reid-boy,” Betty said, untying her scarf. “You can just call us Betty and Roy, you know.”

  “Oh— yeah, sorry.”

  Betty’s eyes wandered toward the counter. A few silver coins sat there, gleaming faintly in the light.

  “Did someone come while we were gone, Reid?”

  Reid hesitated, torn between excitement and uncertainty. “Yes.”

  Betty frowned slightly, sensing there was more. “Who was it, Reid?”

  He looked away. “Just a traveler.”

  Betty crossed her arms, eyebrow raised. “Come now, Reid. Spill those beans of yours.”

  Reid sighed. “A man came in. Maybe you know him — Harven Klutz.”

  The moment Roy heard the name, his expression changed completely. His broad smile faded, replaced by a flicker of disbelief.

  “Did you say… Harven Klutz?”

  Reid nodded slowly. “He said something about an academy — about calling me there to train. But I didn’t say yes. I told him I’d think about it. I promised you guys tha—”

  Roy interrupted, his deep voice cutting through the air. “You should go, Reid.”

  Both Betty and Reid turned to him in shock.

  Roy continued, “If it really was Harven Klutz, then this is no small thing. You should go.”

  He looked at Betty, who still seemed caught between surprise and fear.

  “Harven Klutz isn’t just any soldier, dear — he’s the vice-commander of King Rucon’s army.”

  Reid blinked. “But… Arttu—”

  Betty stepped forward, her eyes soft but firm. “Don’t you worry about Arttu, my boy. I promise you — we’ll look after him like he’s our own.”

  Reid looked down, torn, sadness and excitement pulling at him like two tides.

  Betty smiled faintly. “And besides, I already found a wet nurse for the little lad. He’ll be just fine.”

  Roy clapped his big hand on Reid’s shoulder. “Then it’s settled. Tonight, we celebrate your journey, lad — the start of your new life.”

  Reid’s lips curved into a trembling smile. “Of course.”

  That night, the tavern glowed brighter than it had in months.

  Roy and Betty drank until the world itself seemed merry.

  Roy leaned across the table, his words slurred but his grin wide. “I knew you were one of the great ones, boy. Knew it the moment you stepped through that door.”

  His eyes misted, and he sniffed loudly. “But still… we’ll miss you.”

  Betty was crying too, though she tried to hide it behind laughter. “I’ll cook you any dinner you want when you visit, you hear me? Any dinner!”

  Reid smiled through his own tears. “Thank you, Betty.”

  Even Brog and Drool were there, singing and drinking like fools, their voices rough and full of cheer.

  They started chanting a tavern song — one of those half-silly, half-sincere tunes born from too much ale and too much love for life:

  “Oh, a little, little man, walking toward a white flame,

  Dreams too big for his brittle name.

  Hand him a sword, give him his start,

  He’ll carry the world in his stubborn heart.

  So raise your mugs and let him go,

  Through fire, storm, and freezing snow.

  He’ll fall, he’ll rise, he’ll stand again —

  The little man who’ll make the end.”

  Everyone cheered and pounded the tables.

  For one night, there was no sorrow. No fear. Just laughter — the kind that heals.

  When the tavern finally quieted, Reid kissed Arttu’s forehead and went to bed.

  And that night, for the first time in a long time, he dreamt of a sunrise.

  When morning came, the smell of fresh bread filled the air.

  Roy, Betty, Fiona gathered around the table for one last breakfast together.

  They laughed, cried, and told him the same advice a dozen times — eat well, stay strong, don’t pick fights with soldiers — and every word burned itself into his memory.

  After the meal, Reid strapped Genusrosa, his chain nunchaku, to his belt.

  He kissed Arttu softly on the cheek.

  Outside, the road stretched long and white before him.

  Betty and Roy stood in the doorway, waving.

  Roy tried to speak, but his voice broke, tears glinting in his eyes.

  “Don’t cry, you big oaf,” Betty scolded — though her own eyes shimmered too.

  Reid looked back one last time.

  Arttu was in Betty’s arms, watching him — innocent, unknowing, yet calm.

  It was as if he understood everything and nothing all at once.

  Reid smiled. His heart felt steady. Arttu was safe.

  He turned toward the horizon.

  And so began the journey of Reid Corvane.