The next morning came with the smell of rain and the chatter of carriges. Modred stood at the door of their wooden abode, clutching the strap of a worn satchel. His grandfather had finally agreed-it was time for him to see the capital.
The journey was long, filled with endless stretches of forest and dirt roads, but Modred's excitement never dimmed. Every tree, every passing town felt like a step closer to Elaris' royal capital, which is the residence of the Rhises, the family that has ruled Elaris since its founding.
By the time they arrived at the city, Modred's eyes were wide with awe. Towers of white stone, embedded with gold, rose above the clouds, and the air shimmered faintly with mana. His grandfather left him at one of the stalls and went off to work at the guild, but his curiosity got the better of him.
Before anyone could notice, Modred had slipped away, drawn by the faint sound of wood striking wood, the rhythm of training.
He followed the sound to a vast courtyard bathed in sunlight. There, two children sparred with wooden swords, their pale white hair gleaming like silver in the morning light. The boy- calm, focused, with bright golden eyes. The girl beside him is a bit larger but just as focused on the exchange.
Modred stood at the edge, fascinated. Then, without thinking, he grinned and called out, "Hey! You swing too soft!"
The sudden voice startled everyone. The trainer froze mid-step. The maids gasped.
The boy blinked, lowering his sword. "Who… are you?"
"Modred," he replied, grinning sheepishly."And you?"
"Xeraniel Rhise.. and that's my older sister Diane Rhise," the boy replied, looking at Modred with a startled expression.
Whispers spread through the servants present like wildfire.
"Where did he come from?"
"He's not supposed to be here!"
"Someone remove him at once!"
Two attendants rushed forward to tackle him, but Modred brushed past them effortlessly, snatching a spare wooden sword from the rack. "C'mon, Your Highness," he said playfully, " let's see what you got."
Very well," he said softly, taking his stance again.
The two clashed — the thud of wood ringing across the courtyard. Modred's swings were wild but powerful, his feet moving with natural agility. He lacked form, yet there was raw strength in his every motion — the kind that came from climbing cliffs and running through forests his whole life.
The prince's golden eyes glimmered with surprise — and excitement.
But skill soon triumphed over instinct. Xeraniel sidestepped a heavy strike and swept Modred's leg from under him. The mountain boy hit the ground with a dull thud, the wooden sword flying from his hand.
Laughter broke out from the onlookers, but Xeraniel silenced them with a sharp look.
Flat on his back, Modred stared at the sky — then burst out laughing. "You're strong, huh…?" he said between breaths. "Guess I've got a lot to learn."
Xeraniel knelt beside him, equally out of breath but smiling for the first time that day. Diane giggled, sitting cross-legged beside them.
"You're strange," she said. "Most people avoid or run away when they see us."
"I'm not most people," Modred replied with a grin. "Besides, what,s there to be afraid of."
They sat there in the grass, sharing stories. Modred's appetite soon became the talk of the maids — the boy devoured everything brought to him, from biscuits to fruit, his laughter echoing across the courtyard.
Then, as the sun dipped lower, Modred turned to Xeraniel, his tone suddenly softer.
"Hey… can we be friends?"
Xeraniel blinked, taken aback. No one had ever asked him that before — not like that. Everyone called him Your Highness, bowed, or treated him like glass. But this boy from the mountains… he just saw him.
A warmth stirred in his chest — one he had craved for years.
"…Yeah," he said finally, smiling faintly. "I'd like that."
"Then it's settled!" Modred said cheerfully, springing up. "From now on, you're my friend, Xer!"
Xeraniel frowned slightly at the nickname, but laughter broke through anyway. Diane clapped her hands, delighted.
Before anyone could say another word, the heavy doors at the edge of the courtyard slammed open.
"MODRED!"
That voice—deep, sharp, and all too familiar—froze the air.
Modred's smile vanished. "…oh no."
Everyone turned as Igred stormed in, his gray coat flaring behind him, a pair of guards trailing nervously.
"Sir Igred! W-we tried to stop him!" one of the servants stammered.
"I can see that," Igred said flatly, his eyes locking onto Modred, who was already trying to sneak behind Xeraniel.
"Uh, hey… Grandpa," Modred said, voice cracking a little. "Fancy seeing you here—"
"Don't 'hey Grandpa' me!" Igred barked, his tone loud enough to send a few birds scattering from the trees. "You vanish from the guild, break into the royal courtyard, and pick fights with princes now?!"
"It was a friendly spar!" Modred protested.
"No one died!"
"That's not the point!"
Modred's fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. He chose flight. He darted toward the gate—
—but Igred was faster. The old man's hand clamped onto the boy's collar mid-run, lifting him clean off the ground.
"Gotcha."
"Grandpa, wait! I can explain—"
Thwack!
"—It was Diane's idea!"
"Hey!" Diane exclaimed, laughing.
Thwack!
"And Xer wanted to spar too!"
Xeraniel crossed his arms. "Don't drag me into this."
Everyone present was trying not to laugh, Diane giggling behind her hands, and Modred waving his arms helplessly while Igred kept giving him light knocks on the head.
"Do you have any idea how much trouble this causes me?" Igred scolded. "The last time you went missing, you came back with a boar's tusk stuck in your arm!"
"That was one time!" Modred shot back, rubbing his head.
Diane was laughing so hard she had to hold her stomach. Even Xeraniel couldn't hold back a smirk. "He's got spirit, I'll give him that."
"Spirit? He's a just an idiot!," Igred muttered, but there was a hint of exhaustion in his voice.
Xeraniel chuckled. "In fact, Modred—why don't you visit the royal palace tomorrow? I'd like to spar again… properly this time."
Modred's eyes widened. "Wait, for real? Like—inside the palace palace?"
"Yes," Xeraniel said, smiling. "I'll make the arrangements."
Diane beamed. "And I'll be there too!"
Modred's grin stretched from ear to ear. "You hear that, old man? I got invited to the place."
Igred sighed in defeat, muttering under his breath. "This boy's going to give me a heart attack one of these days."
Diane giggled. "He's fun, Sir Igred. You should be proud."
Igred shot her a tired look. "Proud isn't the word I'd use, young lady."
The laughter returned again, echoing through the courtyard as Modred got one last bonk on the head before being dragged away by his grandfather—still grinning like a fool.
As he was hauled off, he waved over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Xer! Don't go easy on me next time!"
Diane smiled beside him, watching the boy fade from view.
"He's weird," she said.
Xeraniel's eyes lingered on the gate, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah… but maybe that's what we need. "