The four walk through a winding path surrounded by low hills and scattered trees. Birds chirp. The sun's golden light filters through the leaves. The boys carry their wooden training weapons slung across their backs. Varis leads, slightly ahead, cloak billowing.
"You boys still breathing after yesterday's drills?"
"It wasn't tolling." Alaric says
"You say that now, but I heard you groaning in your sleep." Cassian retorts
"That was Oroson." Alaric says, turning to Cassian
"Was not! I sleep like a rock." Oroson defends himself sheepishly
"A crying rock, maybe." Varis chiming in, smirkingly
Oroson scowls but quickly forgets and skips a little ahead.
"Listen before camp today, I want to say something." Varis says with a bit of seriousness."
The three siblings slow down a bit, and Alaric and Cassian glance at each other.
"You're getting older. You're getting stronger. And the world walking into… it doesn't always wait for you to be ready."
Cassian lifted his chin, confidence running through him.
"We're training. We'll be ready."
"I know. But strength isn't just how hard you hit. It's knowing why you hit. Who are you willing to take a hit for."
A beat. Oroson looks up at his father curiously.
"Would you take a hit for us?"
Without pause
"In a heartbeat."
Alaric has a question
"What if we mess up? What if one of us gets hurt? Hurt badly?"
"Then I'll be the one who helps you stand back up. Just like my father did for me. Just like you'll do for someone one day."
They walk in silence for a moment. The only sounds are their boots on gravel.
"I'm glad you're our dad." Cassian says quietly.
"Yeah, well… I had help. Your mother scares me more than any battlefield." Varis says gruffly, trying not to show too much in front of his kids.
All three boys laugh. The tension breaks. Oroson smiled at his father.
"She is scary."
"Don't tell her I said that."
The open training field bustles with young fighters. Some sparring, some stretching, others just arriving. The place hums with ambition and energy.
The distant sounds of clashing wooden weapons echo. A light breeze sways the banners of different regional emblems.
Varis halts the small cart. The boys hop off, grabbing their packs. There's a brief pause.
"Bye, Dad!! Don't forget to tell Mom I didn't cry this time!" Oroson says excitedly, waving big with both hands."
Varis chuckled, raising a hand.
"No promises, Oroson."
Cassian is a little smug, walking inside, very clearly he's trying to act mature.
"Later, old man. Don't slack while we're gone."
"I'll try matching your overwhelming strength." Varis says, amused.
"Good luck."
Cassian walks off, but glances back one last time, just a flicker of uncertainty before disappearing into the crowd.
Alaric remains for a second. He adjusts the straps of his weapon. He doesn't wave. He doesn't smile. Just looks at his father steadily.
"...I'll protect them, Father."
Varis's expression softens. Proud, but quiet.
"I know you will."
Alaric nods once, then turns and walks into the field, tall and straight-backed.
The cart creaks back into motion. Varis glances in the rearview mirror of memory. His sons have gone into the crucible.
The house feels quieter now. The leftover plates are stacked by the sink. A kettle whistles faintly on the hearth.
Varis steps in, rubbing the back of his neck and letting out a soft groan.
"They're in. Safe and sound. Alaric's already acting like a war general."
Amabel, drying her hands, doesn't look up.
"Mmhm. And you let Oroson wear his tunic backwards again, didn't you?"
"He said it was his 'lucky side'. Who am I to challenge fate?"
Amabel raises a brow, turning to him with a smirk.
"You're his father. Fate starts with you."
She crosses her arms, eyes narrowing in playful command.
"Now… Chop the firewood. Before luck runs and I turn you into kindling."
Varis sighs theatrically, placing a hand over his heart.
"You hurt and wound me, woman. I fought beasts for you."
"And now you fight logs. Let's see if you survive."
Varis swings the axe with practiced rhythm. THUD. THUD. Each strike carries the weight of years. Soldier, Husband, father. Sweat glistens on his brow, but he's smiling.
Amabel watches from the doorway, arms crossed, leaning on the frame. She calls out.
"You're slowing down."
"Well, that's what happens when you do something repeatedly."
"Plus, I'm savoring the moment. I rarely get time with such a fine audience."
"Then perform faster. You've got stew duty next."
They share a look, soft, grounded, earned over a lifetime. The kind of love that doesn't need to be declared to be known.
Golden sunlight spills over the six distinct regions, their borders painted with natural wonders and architectural pride.
The Mage towers of the Arcane Vale pulse with quiet magic. The dragon cliffs glint with metallic scales of training wyverns. The sprawling farmlands of Lagaard shimmer in the breeze. Modest, Humble, Full of soul.
Dust kicks up from the practice grounds. The clang of wooden weapons. Grunts. Laughter. Instructors bark encouragement and criticism in equal measure.
Varis steps into the frame, his boots crushing the gravel path. His eyes scan for his boys, hands on his hips, part soldier, part father.
Varis spots that Alaric is sparring with two other teens. He's calm, sharp, and commanding. He disarms one with a flick of his wrist.
Cassian is breathless, mid-sprint around the training yard, grinning despite a bruised cheek.
Oroson is trying and failing to lift a training sword twice his size. A nearby mentor corrects his grip, and he beams.
Varis leans on a wooden fence. Alaric notices first, gives the subtle nod. Cassian waves, trying to seem casual again. Oroson runs to him at full sprint.
"Dad! I hit a target today! Twice!"
"Twice? Better make it three tomorrow, or I'm trading you for a goat." Varis says while ruffling his hair
"A goat would run faster than Oroson." Cassian says while walking down the stairs, still a bit out of breath.
"Says the one who tripped on a helmet while running!"
They all chuckle except Alaric, who's just leaving the camp and coming to the group.
Varis chuckles at his oldest.
"I saw you beating those elder kids."
"It was nothing, they moved me up to the 18 and up class."
Varis's eyebrows raised, and he nodded approvingly.
"The 18 and up class? Wow. Certainly, making a name for yourself. Going for Champion of Lagaard?"
Alaric shrugs and glances at the sky.
"Champion. Haven't thought of it. Perhaps."
Varis goes inside to sign his kids out. Oroson looks at Alaric with curious eyes.
"Big bro, I think you should go for Champion, you're really strong."
"But I don't think he's the greatest representation of Lagaard." Cassian chimes in
"I don't think so either. But I do care for the people of Lagaard."
Both Oroson and Cassian are confused and surprised by Alaric's words
"Since when do you care for anything other than strength? I haven't seen you smile, cry, or even show anger." Cassian says.
"I get strong to protect what's around me." Alaric explains.
Varis suddenly taps Alaric's shoulder from behind.
"Sounds like a champion to me."
"Come on, you three. Let's go home."