A few sharp knocks came at the door, snapping me from my thoughts.
"Come in," I said, my voice still rough.
The door opened, and a maid stepped inside. She froze for a second, clearly surprised to see me awake and walking around. "Sir Lurthar," she said, bowing slightly, "if you're feeling well enough, the lord requests your presence in the drawing room. He wishes to speak with you."
"'Sir,' huh?" I muttered with a small laugh. "Looks like I'm moving up in the world."
The maid blinked, unsure whether I was joking, but said nothing. I followed her into the hallway, stretching my sore arm as I walked. The corridor was wide and lined with portraits, each frame gilded and polished to perfection. The air smelled faintly of pine and parchment—like a mix between a forest and a library.
I glanced at the maid as we walked. Her uniform reminded me of an old-fashioned nurse's outfit from wartime documentaries back on Earth—black dress, neat cap, not a wrinkle in sight. Her movements were quiet, practiced, almost mechanical.
We stopped before a large double door carved with intricate symbols. Turning to me, she said, "Please wait here for a moment." Then she slipped inside.
A minute later, she returned and gestured for me to enter.
The moment I stepped inside, the atmosphere changed. The room was bright and elegant, with tall windows draped in velvet curtains. Sitting in a high-backed chair near the fireplace was the old man—Archmage Voltraen Stormsong. To his right, on a long couch, sat Oriane. She looked proud, excited, and slightly nervous all at once. Beside her sat a woman who took my breath away. She was stunning—long navy-blue hair, vivid green eyes, and a poise that radiated authority. She had to be Oriane's mother, the Marquess Elowen Evermere.
Damn, I thought. She looks way too young to be anyone's mother.
To her right sat a man just as striking—broad-shouldered, golden-haired, and blue-eyed. The kind of man who looked like he was born to lead. That had to be the Marquis himself, Roland Evermere.
I took a steady breath, then did my best formal bow—just like I'd seen nobles do on TV dramas. "Greetings, Lord Marquis Roland Evermere, Lady Marquess Elowen Evermere, Young Lady Oriane Evermere, and Archmage Voltraen Stormsong."
For a few seconds, silence filled the room. I thought I had made some kind of mistake. But when I looked up, I saw that everyone—except Voltraen—was staring at me in surprise.
"Ah… yes," the Marquis said finally, clearing his throat. "Rise, boy. You may sit."
I stood and took a seat on the couch opposite them.
The Marquis leaned forward slightly. "First, I want to thank you for saving my daughter. As her father, I could not be more grateful."
I blinked, startled by his sincerity. "There's no need to bow your head, my lord. I only did what anyone would've done." Well… anyone who didn't want to die themselves, I thought silently.
"Second," he continued, his voice still calm but carrying a subtle weight, "I would like to hear everything that happened that night."
The pressure in his tone made it clear that this wasn't a simple request. I nodded and explained everything—from the ambush to the fight, to how I managed to get Oriane to safety. The only detail I left out was how I had been inside the meeting room earlier. I wasn't sure if admitting that would anger him, so I decided not to take that risk.
When I finished, the Marquis sat quietly, eyes thoughtful. Then he asked, "So… you awakened your mana during that battle?"
"Yes, sir," I replied.
He raised an eyebrow. "And how old are you, Lurthar?"
"I'm five."
That got a reaction. The Marquis blinked, surprised. Even the Marquess covered her mouth slightly.
"Five, you say?"
"Is that strange?" I asked.
Voltraen chuckled softly. "Most people awaken their mana around eight. The earliest recorded case before you was six. So yes, it's rather impressive."
I nodded slowly, absorbing that. Five years old, huh? Maybe this body really was something special.
The Marquis leaned back and smiled. "Well then, young man, your actions and bravery deserve proper recognition. From this day forward, you are no longer a slave. You are a free citizen of the Empire of Solara."
For a moment, I couldn't breathe. Free?
I remembered the words of an old slave I once met: 'Freedom means no one can sell you again. You'll have your own name, your own life.'
I stood up and bowed deeply. "Thank you, my lord."
He gestured for me to sit again. "It's fine, sit down."
I did as he said, though my heart was still racing. I wasn't a slave anymore. I had rights. I could choose my own path.
As I tried to process that, Voltraen suddenly spoke up. "Hey, kid. How would you like to be my student?"
The room went silent. Even the Marquis looked surprised.
"Master Voltraen," he said cautiously, "what do you mean to take this boy as your disciple?"
Voltraen's lips curved into a rare smile. "The boy is a genius. He awakened mana on his own—without guidance, without knowledge. I'm getting old, and I've never had a disciple before. I think it's time I pass on what I know."
My jaw nearly dropped. A student? Of an Archmage? This was better than freedom—it was a chance to learn real magic. To grow stronger. To survive.
I stood up and gave him a deep bow. "It would be an honor to study under you, Master Voltraen."
A faint but genuine smile touched his lips. "Good. Then it's settled."
Before I could say anything else, Oriane jumped up, grabbed my hand, and beamed. "Now that we're done talking, let's go play!"
"Wait, I still—"
"You've been asleep for two days already!" she said, tugging me toward the door. "Mother, Father, may I take him outside?"
The Marquis and Marquess exchanged surprised looks, then Elowen laughed softly. "Yes, but take a maid with you, and stay within the gardens."
As we left, Voltraen called out, "Boy, we're leaving tonight. Be ready."
I nodded back. "Understood."
The rest of the day passed quickly. Oriane was surprisingly energetic for a noble girl—climbing trees, running through flowerbeds, laughing without restraint. For a while, it almost felt like I was just a normal kid again.
When night came, a maid arrived to fetch me. Oriane's smile faltered. "Do you really have to go today?" she asked, her tone proud but her eyes glimmering with sadness.
I gave her a quick hug. "Don't worry. I'm not leaving the city. I'll be living with Master Voltraen, so I'll come visit. Don't cry, kid."
She puffed her cheeks, kicked me in the shin, and turned away. "I wasn't going to cry—and stop calling me a kid!"
Laughing and rubbing my leg, I followed the maid back to the front hall. The Marquis and Marquess were waiting. Elowen handed me a small bag. "There are spare clothes and daily necessities inside. Come by anytime—Oriane gets lonely quite easily ."
I bowed deeply. "Thank you, my lady."
The Marquis extended a hand, which I shook carefully. "I look forward to seeing what you'll become, Lurthar."
Voltraen appeared by the doorway, his staff in hand. "Ready, boy?"
I looked back one last time at the Evermere family, then out at the night sky beyond the open doors. The moonlight shimmered on the cobblestone path leading into the unknown.
"Yes," I said quietly, a smile tugging at my lips. "I'm ready."
For the first time since I'd arrived in this world, I wasn't just surviving—I was walking toward something new. Toward power. Toward freedom. Toward magic.