My mom used to say, “True beauty in a woman isn’t found in her appearance, but in the kindness and strength she carries within.” Obviously, she hasn’t met the women I’ve crossed paths with. If she had, she’d probably take that statement back.

The wall clock chimed six as Brutus finished recounting his version of last night’s brawl. Thankfully, that old contraption had been spared. Its timely chime reminded me it was about time to head back to the estate.

“Don’t stress about the repairs, Brutus,” I said with reassurance. “I’ll cover all the damages. Head to the estate tomorrow and ask for Alfred. He’ll take care of it.”

“You’d do that for me, Master Alex?”

I nodded silently, smiling.

“You’re the finest Stormbourne of them all, Master Alex!”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his flattery. To be honest, if this pub ever closed, I’d be losing the only place where I could quietly satisfy my cravings in peace.

I stood to leave but paused. “One more thing, Brutus. Do you know who brought me back to the estate last night?”

“Of course!” Brutus replied, grinning widely and gesturing to the three young women still cleaning up. “It was my three lovely daughters over there.”

Oh no! Not them! Please don’t smile, please don’t smile—

Now, you might wonder why I was reacting so dramatically here. One thing to keep in mind when you’re having a good time at the Drunken Stag is to never mention Brutus’ three daughters. I really do mean never.

It’s not that his daughters weren’t good-looking, quite the opposite, in fact. They were just like the barmaids at the Royal Rose. And sure, every father takes pride in hearing compliments about his daughters. Even the drunkard’s or the lecher’s words could be taken as a compliment.

But most men, myself included, would lose their composure, or worse, if the very thing that made a woman famous for her, let’s say, seductive allure, was revealed. And I’m stressing “revealed” to make it absolutely clear.

As expected, the girls shifted their attention to me and... smiled.

Damn it! Now I’m going to need something strong to forget everything I just witnessed before I hit the bed.

“T—Thanks for your help, ladies,” I stammered, giving a small bow before turning on my heel. No way in hell was I sticking around to hear them start giggling.

Outside the tavern, I rubbed my face hard, trying to scrub the last image from my mind. It was time to return to the estate for my parents’ farewell gathering.

The cool evening air hit me like a breath of fresh air as I walked through the nearly deserted streets of Stormvale, a place that had become my second home. Navigating these familiar roads was easy, as I knew them like the veins on my wrists.

I spotted a pair of figures stepping out of an inn, clearly trying to blend into the night. Cloaks were drawn tightly over their faces, but they didn’t know I was watching.

I kept my distance, quietly tailing them, noting that they were headed in the same direction as me. Their hushed conversation and the way they carried themselves suggested that whatever they were talking about was important.

As they made their way toward the entertainment district, likely to use the noise there to cover their conversation, I caught bits and pieces of their exchange. When they passed beneath a streetlamp, more of their faces were revealed.

That’s when I saw him. Greg. A local informant who had been used by Grinwald to figure out who’d beaten up one of the estate guards during that tavern brawl. Greg looked more nervous than usual as he spoke to the other person.

“Do you know who I bumped into last night, Tom?” Greg leaned in, his voice barely a whisper.

“Who?” Tom tilted his head, a bit curious.

“The Wandering Swordsman.”

A gasp escaped my lips. I never thought I’d hear that name from anyone else’s mouth. The Wandering Swordsman was a legend, a name whispered in taverns and forgotten corners of the world. Only a few had ever met him, and even fewer would have recognized him if they did. He’d been absent from the swordsmanship scene for over twenty years, fading into myth and rumor. The very thought of him was almost impossible to believe.

I remembered the story Grinwald had told me. He’d been slightly drunk at the time, so who could say how much of it was true? Still, the tale went something like this.

The Wandering Swordsman was a master swordsman with a touch of magic. He roamed the land, challenging anyone who thought they could take him down. With every opponent he bested, his legend grew, until his name spread like wildfire.

Then, twenty-three years ago, he faced my father in a duel in the capital city of Tuvia. The battle was fierce, legendary even. Even now, bards sing songs about it in the taverns. But after that epic fight, the Wandering Swordsman disappeared as if the very shadows he commanded had swallowed him whole.

Here’s the part I couldn’t believe, though. The part I still couldn’t swallow. My mom was supposedly the prize for that duel.

Really? My mom? They fought over her like she was some kind of trophy? It was so absurd that I collapsed to the floor, laughing uncontrollably, while Grinwald furiously defended the truth of his tale, shaking his fists in outrage.

“Bah! You’re pulling my leg,” Tom said, crossing his arms like he was daring Greg to prove him wrong.

I couldn’t help but agree with Tom. There was no way one of Valoria’s greatest swordsmen would be hanging around this town. Not in a place like this.

“You’re forgetting that I’m an informant,” Greg said, his voice turned serious. “The latest word from other informants says he limps on one leg and has this huge scar running from his left cheek to his chin.” He sniffed and then added, “I think he’s carrying a cane now.”

“A cane?” Tom looked at him like he had just suggested a cat could talk.

“Yep, a cane,” Greg nodded.

“A cane for what?” Tom asked again.

Greg rubbed his temples like he had a headache. “A cane to knock that thick head of yours! Of course, he uses it to help him walk because he’s limping now.”

I shook my head wearily as the two of them went back and forth, like I wasn’t even standing there. Sometimes I thought I was the only one with common sense.

Then something made me stop. The street was mostly dark, but two pub lights pinned against the outside wall illuminated an alley that caught my attention. I froze for a second, scanning the narrow space. Just a stray cat sitting on top of a trash can, staring at me with its eerie green eyes.

“Nibbles?” I squinted at it.

The cat hissed before leaping to the ground and vanishing into the shadows at the end of the alley.

I guess not.

My eyes focused on the lamps again. Should I check it out? If it’s a bar, it might be a good place to unwind. Plus, I could use a drink to get that unpleasant scene at the Drunken Stag out of my head.

I stopped following the two men and entered the alleyway. Upon closer look, there was an arched door with a sign above it that read “The Chosen One.” The place looked like a small bar from the worn wood and the faint hum of chatter from within. It seemed odd that a new drinking parlor had been set up without my knowledge.

I opened the door wide and stepped inside, finding the place empty except for an old man behind the counter, wiping an empty glass with a cloth. The room was spotless, with portraits of dark-haired men hanging on the walls, but I didn’t recognize any of them. A couple of antique chairs and tables filled the space, clearly meant to accommodate a few patrons.

Eh, what’s this? Where did the voices I heard vanish to? This old dude wasn’t talking to himself, was he?

“Welcome, lad! Pull up a stool, ye’re on yer own, eh?” the old man behind the counter said as soon as he noticed me.

I did, and the seat was warm against my back. “What’s up with your sign outside?” I nodded my chin at the front door.

“Aye, what of it?” the bartender asked casually, resting his hands on the counter.

“Why’d you name this bar The Chosen One?”

“Well, ye see, only a few could enter this place, aye,” he said with a toothy grin.

“Then why do you allow me in?”

“Ye look like someone who might fit the bill,” he replied with a chuckle.

“Really?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Ye’ve already met one o’ the criteria,” he continued, his tone light.

“What criteria?” I squinted at him.

“Handsome men wi’ dark hair,” he said with a wink, nodding his chin at the paintings behind me.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “So, what’ve you got for me? What’s your best drink?”

“Aye, sorry about that,” the old bartender apologized. “Let me make ye somethin’.” He turned his body around, began pouring my drink into a glass, and then placed it on the counter.

My eyes locked on the colorless water, then flicked over to the bartender before returning to my glass. Was this some kind of spirit? I couldn’t tell. I took a quick gulp, feeling my throat tighten as I swallowed it down.

But before the cool liquid could settle, my head jerked sideways, and I spat it out.

“What the hell did you just give me?” My eyes widened in disbelief.

“Water, lad,” the bartender said, looking at me like I was the one who was confused.

“Water?” I repeated, not sure if I heard him right.

“Aye, plain, pure water,” he said.

“But why water?” I asked, still trying to clear my mouth of the weird sensation.

“Because ye’re still underage, aren’t ye?” he raised an eyebrow like he had just caught me doing something I shouldn’t have.

Damn it! There goes my chance of finding another drinking spot. Well, maybe it’s for the best that I don’t get my fix now. I’ve got a gathering to attend later.

I shook my head and let out a long sigh.

“Somethin’ on yer mind, lad?” the bartender asked, leaning in with genuine curiosity.

“Nah, it’s nothing really,” I shrugged, brushing it off.

“Go on, lad. I’m good at listenin’ to problems,” he said, his voice taking on a calm, encouraging tone.

I exhaled deeply, choosing my words with care. “It’s just that I have a few things bothering me right now. Like attending the academy for my swordsmanship training. Feels like a waste of time since I don’t even want to be a swordsman.” I paused for a moment. “And there’s something I’ve always wanted to do, at least once, but with who I am now, it’s just not possible, and it definitely goes against my family’s wishes.”

“Maybe I can help ye with that,” he suggested with a knowing smile.

Thinking the old bartender was just messing around, I went ahead and told him what I wanted most in life.

“That’s nae what I expected from a Stormbourne,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Of course,” I chuckled. “I’m not like other Stormbournes.”

“Aye, I’m a man o’ me word,” he said firmly.

“Really? You’ve got connections with taverns all over the world?” I said, offering a smirk.

“Nay,” he replied with a wink, “but I can make ye strong an’ famous. The rest is up to ye.”

I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Seriously? You can do that for me?”

The old bartender reached beneath the counter and pulled out a bottle with strange engravings. He uncorked it and poured the bluish liquid into an empty glass, then set it in front of me with a silent gesture to drink.

“What’s this?” I asked, eyeing the glass suspiciously.

“This,” he said lowly, “is the nectar o’ the transcendent. A drink ye’ve never had before.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that,” I said with a grin, eager to try something new. “Well then, here’s to the thing I want most in life!” I raised the glass to my lips and swallowed the strange liquid in one gulp. “It’s true!” I exclaimed, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

“Only the ‘Chosen’ can drink what ye’ve just taken,” he explained, his gaze steady.

“I see,” I nodded, smiling.

“Remember this, young Stormbourne.” His tone shifted, becoming more serious. “Seek knowledge from others, but always rely on yer own strength to face yer trials. There will also come a time when ye’ll need to borrow the strength of another. When that time comes, yer cycle o’ life will end.”

“Yeah, no problem!” I laughed heartily, though I wasn’t sure what the hell he was talking about.

Wait a second!

He’s called me Stormbourne twice now. I don’t remember telling him who I am. But before I could ask, a wave of dizziness hit me. And here, my vision and memories ended abruptly.