A new day dawns upon the town of Wolphen, streams of light permeating through the curtains of the orphanage dorms.
In a certain dorm, one can observe a person doing some rather interesting movements. Yurshel, fully awake and bare to the waist (shirtless), conditions his physique, doing stretches to articulate and facilitate blood flow and rid himself of residual soreness.
"16...17...18...19...hup 20...hmphhh," Yurshel thinks as he finishes his one-arm handstand push-up. As he rises from his final stretch, his tall frame catches the soft glow of morning light. His body is lean and well-proportioned.
Sitting in a lotus position, he begins meditating, but it is cut short by the commotion in the corridors.
"Hey, he must be here, right? Let's go; I want to see what he has to say for himself," says some weirdo with a broken tooth.
Despite the noise coming from the corridor, Yurshel remains unperturbed. But as it draws closer, he opens his eyes slowly and rises. He puts on a blue shirt and shorts made of wool.
"Hey, who's going to knock?"
"You do it."
"Wait, you're the one who brought us here—do it."
Before they finish their bickering, the door opens, revealing Yurshel looking down at them.
"Hey... uh, I heard—"
Not even bothering to hear what they have to say, Yurshel walks past them after closing his dorm room door, heading toward the cafeteria.
"HEY! Wait, I'm talking to you! Where are you goi—"
Yurshel turns, looking toward the broken-tooth guy—apparently the leader of that small gang—and stares at him with emotionless, deadpan eyes. That sight jolts the broken-tooth kid awake, and he quickly looks away. Yurshel resumes his path, unperturbed.
"Boss, are you okay? Hm, what is that smell?"
Looking down, one of his minions eyes his khaki pants and exclaims,
"Aye, Arty soiled himself! Spread the word—hahaha!"
****
After eating his breakfast, Yurshel goes to see the matron, having been summoned to her office.
Knock, knock.
"Matron, it's me, Yurshel."
"Come in, the door is unlocked."
"Yes, Matron."
Looking at Yurshel with soft, tender eyes, the matron recalls when he was brought here—that fateful night years ago.
"It was brought to my attention that you wish to leave to go under tutelage with Lana?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Why is that? Do we bore you? Or rather, you feel grown already? Do not be mistaken. Despite the enormous number of children here, I know all the comings and goings. I am aware of your nightly and early morning escapades—going to the archery field, stealing bows, and going out despite the curfew. Tell me why I should grant your request."
"I—" Yurshel tries to answer.
"It was a rhetorical question. I know what you want. Since you were born, I knew you were special—that hair color at birth, not dyed; your eyes; the fact you could walk at such a young age; and your morning activities in your room. It wouldn't be wrong for me to assume that you know everything Larc teaches. I know he hates you because you make him feel useless. He cannot teach you, and every time you do not come to his class, you rub it in his face. He is a short-minded individual, I must admit."
"You do know that in a few months it's going to be the mandatory annual testing to determine if you have awakened, right? I'm sure you remember that we can all be awakened, but discovering the abilities depends on the individual. So I will ask again: are you awakened? Do you feel different in any way?"
Looking deep into his eyes, not avoiding eye contact, she does not even let him sit down.
Calmly looking back at the matron, Yurshel thinks only of his current self and all his achievements, which he attributes to hard work and discipline—nothing extraordinary, at least to him.
"I don't believe so, Matron. I have not awakened. But I must ask—when can I leave the orphanage and register at any academy of the Confederation of Wölfflin?" {The Confederation here is essentially the empire, but since it was formed by the fusion of six kingdoms, it doesn't have one head but six people at the helm of power.}
Her eyes go wide.
"So now it wasn't enough to ask to leave the orphanage daily, but now you want to leave for good? But I understand. You can officially join the academy at eight years old to start training for the different professions the Confederation has to offer. And if you happen to awaken, you may be enrolled in the special academy for all extras. Now, it will depend on your connections, talent, and wealth to be enrolled anywhere actually good. But I guess I can recommend you to Primuscia—my old friend happens to be the school deputy there. With your current talent, you can easily meet any of their requirements, except for the supernatural class. That will only be possible once you awaken."
Yurshel, in a pensive state, mulls it all over.
After a short silence of reflection, the matron continues:
"I permit you to go meet Lana. I do not know if she will take you in—that's up to you."
A tinge of happiness courses through his being.
"Thank you, Matron, for all you are doing for me."
"No, thank you for not being one of those good-for-nothing troublemakers. I know that you feel superior to them, but I must ask you to take care of yourself."
With tenderness in her eyes, she turns her seat toward the window.
"Now get out."
"Thank you, ma'am."
Stopping in his tracks, he bows and says,
"Anything you need, just ask, ma'am. I will do my best to repay the favor."
Yurshel steps out and closes the door.
As he closes the door, the matron looks toward the window, and a tear escapes her eye.
"They all grow so fast."
****
Looking out the window, Yurshel plans how to address Lana.
"I wonder when I will awaken; it's been seven years now, yet this weather still remains snowy."
Lost in thought, he aimlessly walks toward his quarters.