Chapter 1: The Rusty Sword
The midday sun hung high in the sky, illuminating the surroundings with its light.
It was one of the most beautiful days of the season. A gentle wind blowing over the vast stretching green meadows gently bent and rippled the tips of the grass. The scent of fresh earth and flowers filled the air.
In the middle of this peaceful landscape, a silhouette walked alone on the dusty path.
Although he looked like an ordinary traveler from a distance, upon approach, the details whispered a story that was pitiful yet equally intriguing.
The boy was probably sixteen or seventeen years old. The clothes on him consisted of pieces of fabric that had long lost their original color, fading away under the sun and rain.
Carelessly stitched patches of different colors stood out on his elbows, knees, and shoulders.
These patches stood like badges of poverty, yet they did not seem to embarrass the boy.
On his back hung an old travel bag stuffed full, with threads dangling from its seams. But that was not the most striking detail. At the boy's waist swung a sword defeated by time, its scabbard looking more like dried tree bark than leather, with rust stains wrapping around the hilt.
The boy lifted his head slightly to the sky, squinting as he looked at the sun.
As the cool summer breeze caressed his sweaty forehead, he hummed a cheerful and rhythmic melody with his lips pressed together.
Just then, the sound of wheels and the hooves of a horse came from down the road.
The boy turned around where he stood and looked back.
An old horse carriage with creaking wooden parts was approaching him, crates of fruit piled high in the cargo section behind it.
As the carriage wheels dipped into potholes on the road, the crates shook, spreading the scent of fresh apples into the air.
The carriage passed slowly by the boy.
The old man seemed not to have noticed, or perhaps did not care about, this boy with the rusty sword on the road.
But the boy had no intention of missing this opportunity.
He quickened his pace and started running, crushing the gravel under his boots. He shouted with a booming voice using the air filling his lungs:
"Wait! "
"Hey, please wait!"
The old man holding the reins of the carriage was startled when he heard the voice.
He pulled back the reins with his calloused hands to slow the horse. He calmed the animal and the carriage stopped amidst creaking sounds.
The old man lifted his straw hat slightly and looked back over his shoulder at the breathless boy.
The lines on his face carried the fatigue of years, but there was curiosity rather than harshness in his gaze.
"What is it, young man?" he asked, his voice coming out louder than he expected. "Is there a problem?"
The boy wiped his face, which was slightly flushed from running, and pointed with his hand toward the horizon, the direction where the road extended.
"To the capital..." he said while catching his breath. His eyes were shining. "If you are going to the capital, can you take me too?"
The old man looked first at the road the boy pointed to, then at the crates full of fruit behind him, and finally at the boy's sweaty face and his strange rusty sword.
A slight fatherly smile appeared at the corners of his lips.
"If you crush the fruits you will pay for them, just so you know," he said in a joking tone.
A wide smile spread across the young man's face. "Of course, I will be as light as a feather!"
The man signaled the back with his head. "Hop on then. We have a long way to go."
The boy thanked the old man and climbed onto the back of the carriage with an agile movement.
He found himself a small and safe space among the crates. He tried to make his body smaller and curled up like a cat so as not to damage the fruit crates.
He took the bag from his back onto his lap and carefully placed his rusty sword on the wooden floor beside him.
When the wheels started turning again and the carriage began to move forward with jolts, the boy looked at the sky once more.
The wind was now blowing his black hair faster. His lips closed again, and he continued humming the cheerful melody he had left unfinished.
Time passed between the monotonous creaking of the wheels and the sounds of the horse shoes.
As the sun slowly changed its position in the sky, the landscape changed as well.
Green meadows gave way to busier roads, small inns, and denser woodlands.
After a while, the boy straightened up from where he sat and locked his eyes on the horizon where the horse carriage was heading. And he saw it.
Huge walls rose within his field of vision as if bursting from the bosom of the earth.
The Capital.
The heart of the empire, the subject of legends. The walls were so high and so wide that it was hard to believe they were made by humans.
The majesty of the gray stones could be felt even from kilometers away.
And behind those walls stood the magnificent castle rising as if to challenge the clouds, with royal banners waving at the tops of its towers.
The sunlight hit the sharp towers of the castle and reflected, encircling the city like a holy halo.
The boy seemed enchanted. He watched this view without blinking, his mouth slightly open.
From the front, the voice of the old man carried to the back with the wind.
"We will arrive at the capital in an hour or two."
The boy nodded without taking his eyes off the castle.
"What is your name, young man?" asked the old man, getting bored of the long silence.
The boy tore his gaze away from the view with difficulty and called out to the front. His voice betrayed the excitement inside him.
"Ash!" he said eagerly. "My name is Ash."
"I suppose this is your first time coming to the capital, Ash?"
"Yes!" the boy replied, his voice trembling with excitement.
The old man laughed softly.
The pure excitement of youth must have reminded him of his own past. "Well," he said, loosening the reins slightly. "What brings you to the capital? Are you looking for work? Or is it a relative visit?"
Ash took a deep breath and his chest swelled. He spoke feeling the weight and importance of what he was about to say:
"To join the Academy!"
There was a short silence around the horse carriage.
Only the creaking of the wheels could be heard.
The old man looked back over his shoulder at the boy once more as if he could not believe what he heard. There was an obvious expression of surprise on his face.
"To the Academy?" he said, his tone changing. "You must be joking."
Squinting his eyes, he scanned Ash's patched clothes and rusty sword. "Or... Are you a hidden noble or something? Like those duke children who use disguises to mingle with the public?"
Ash giggled.
"No," he said, shaking his head.
"I am a peasant. Actually, I am an orphan. I do not think I carry any noble blood."
The old man turned forward and stroked his grayish beard with one hand. His brows were furrowed.
"Forgive my ignorance, child," he said, his voice turning serious. "But the Academy... wasn't that place only for nobles, children of rich merchants, or talented individuals supported by great dynasties? I thought one could only enter the entrance exam with a reference letter."
"Yes, that is right," said Ash. The happy and unshakable smile on his face did not fade even a bit.
"So..." The old man hesitated. "Do you have a supporter? A lord who took you under his protection? Or a mage who discovered your talent?"
"No, I do not!" said Ash, his voice clear. "I only have myself and my sword."
"Ahaha... I see."
The old man laughed forcefully. A bitter taste had formed in his throat.
This boy... This boy was either a fool or naive enough not to know how the world worked.
Maybe he was a madman.
He looked at the huge and impassable walls of the castle ahead.
Those walls were not only to protect the city from enemies but to separate the elite world inside from the ordinary people outside.
The Academy was just one of the most protected and ruthless places behind those walls. It was a table for wolves.
What a pity, the old man thought to himself. Life... Life would teach this boy the truth very soon. And it would do so ruthlessly, the hard way.
The rest of the road passed in silence.
While Ash dreamed watching the magnificence of the approaching castle, the old man sighed thinking about the unjust order of the world.
A few hours later, when the sun began to descend on the horizon, the carriage arrived at the main entrance of the castle.
The huge iron gates were wide open, and the entrance was overflowing with merchants bringing goods to the city, soldiers, and travelers.
The old man pulled the carriage to the side of the road, a spot a bit away from the noise, and stopped. "Our paths part here, son," he said, his voice tired.
Ash jumped down from the back of the carriage.
When his feet touched the ground, his face held the sweet fatigue of completing a long journey and the energy of starting a new adventure.
Ash bowed respectfully toward the old man.
"Thank you very much for bringing me this far, sir. If I had to walk, I would have had to sleep outside again tonight." His voice was so sincere that the skeptical feelings inside the old man softened for a moment.
Ash fixed his bag and prepared to run enthusiastically toward the huge gate where the crowd flowed.
"Wait!"
The old man stopped him. Ash stopped and looked back. The man had taken one of the brightest and reddest apples from the crates in the back.
Without thinking, he threw the apple toward the boy.
Ash raised his hand by reflex and caught the apple in the air, right in his palm.
The red apple shone like a jewel in the boy's dusty palm. He looked at the man in surprise.
On the old man's face, this time there was not pity, but a strange crumb of respect. Perhaps this was respect for the boy's foolish courage.
"Good luck at the Academy, Ash!" he called out. "You will need it."
Ash gripped the apple tightly.
He smiled at the old man in a way so bright and sincere that it would make the sun jealous.
"Thanks!"
He waved and turned around.
With his tattered clothes, the rusty sword on his back, and the red apple in his hand, he took his first step through the huge gate into the world of kings, mages, and knights.