Seven years is a long time when you're trapped in a body that's barely taller than a kitchen chair.
Alaric wasn't a baby anymore, but he was still... small. His hair was a mess of gold and silver that Gina gave up on combing after five minutes. He'd spent most of those years learning how to breathe—literally. Mana training with his mom, Asimi, was basically just "Extreme Meditation." He had to sit still on a rug while she checked his heartbeat.
He'd figured out he was a "dual-stream" freak. Most people were either hot (Aurora) or cold (Lune). Alaric was both, which felt like having a fever and a chill at the exact same time. It was weird, but he learned to use it. He could warm up his hands when the manor got drafty, which was honestly the most useful thing he'd learned so far.
Then there was Dawn Angelique.
She started coming over when they were toddlers. She had black hair and eyes that glowed blue, and she was the only person in the palace who didn't talk to him like he was a political chess piece. "You look like a sunrise," she told him the first time they met. Alaric just blinked at her. He liked her, mostly because she actually laughed. Everyone else in the palace just "inclined their heads" or "smiled thinly."
But Alaric didn't want to stay in a "pretty cage" like Starfall. He wanted to see his land. So, at seven years old, he dragged a whole retinue—including a very grumpy Gina—to the west.
Asmora was a disaster. It sat in a muddy basin by a river that looked like it wanted to swallow the houses. The bridge was gone, the roofs were sagging, and the people looked like they'd forgotten how to smile.
"You look terrible," Alaric said to the village elder, a guy named Marrec. The villagers stared at him. A seven-year-old in a fancy cloak telling them they looked like crap wasn't exactly what they expected.
"We've got no money, Your Highness," Marrec sighed.
Alaric looked at the broken houses and then at Gina. He knew what he had to do. "Sell Starfall Manor," Alaric said.
Gina almost fell over. "Excuse me? That's your only house in the capital! You can't just—" "It's full of spies and peepholes, Gina," Alaric countered, his voice sounding way too old for his face. "Sell it. Use the gold to buy stone, wood, and food. I'm moving here."
While the stonemasons started marking up the ruins of the village, Alaric went for a walk up the hills. He had a bunch of Knights Gallant following him, looking bored, until they saw what was at the top.
It was a stone archway, half-buried in the dirt. It had carvings on it that looked exactly like the Elvish script James remembered from his old RPG rulebooks. There was a shimmer in the middle of it—a magical barrier that made Alaric's mana itch just by looking at it.
"Don't touch it," Gina warned, grabbing his shoulder. "I'm not stupid," Alaric muttered.
He stared at the glowing runes. He had a village to rebuild, a father who was dealing with a holy war, and now a literal "Ancient Dungeon" in his backyard.
Level 1 starts here, I guess, he thought.