Voli packed all his belongings and carried them outside, standing near the carriage. He spoke briefly with Aldwin while Rowan observed quietly. Over the past year, Rowan had pushed himself as a mage, learning to cast long-range attacks directly from his hands instead of relying solely on his sword. Being trained by one of the best had accelerated his growth.
Rowan's body had grown stronger too. He was ten now, and while at six he had been able to use only about fifteen to twenty percent of his power, now he could wield nearly thirty-five percent. That alone was remarkable progress.
Voli's father had tried teaching him swordsmanship in his own way. Even with a real blade, he could not have stood against Rowan. Yet some of those lessons had value—techniques refined by a Sword God that Rowan now understood better than anyone.
In two days, he would leave for the Royal Academy.
Just then, the carriage arrived, emerging from the forest path.
