Now that everything was done and he was far from nobles, knights, magicians, and officials, Xavier felt very tired. He was only a poor boy; all this was too much for him; the noble history of his family was nothing more than a lie; his shadow magic was useless; his elemental affinity for fire was too weak; even if he went to train at Liev’s tower, he would end up in the subjugation squadrons anyway. He was a failure and a great disappointment. Elric noticed the boy’s stressful state. As a much older man, he could understand the heavy burden that someone so young carried. He remembered how hard his life was until he managed to become a knight. He was lucky to survive the battles and wars, but many of his friends and partners did not. Now he had a more relaxed and less dangerous job; if there was a big war, they could recruit him again, but in general, his functions were trivial, such as accompanying and guiding poor talents like Xavier.

‘Calm down, boy, you’ll be fine,’ said Elric. In theory, he should treat a nobleman with more respect, but the truth was that Xavier was just a tired and lost peasant; barely a kid, there was not a peak of nobility in him.

‘I don’t know what to do. This is not what I expected; I let everyone down.’ Xavier complained.

‘Well, at least you are a nobleman. That’s an advantage. You could try to make a living as a shadow mage.’ Elcir said these words without really meaning them. Everyone knew how limited the future of a shadow mage was.

‘The shadow magic only use is to create corporal illusions and partial transformation. It’s useless, I know; everyone knows. It has no use in battle,’ Xavier confirmed what Elcir was thinking. ‘But my family expects a lot from me, the village, everybody... What am I going to do?’

‘You have no choice but to live with what you got,’ replied Elric.

A couple of hours later, they returned to the citadel of Mennor. Xavier climbed into the horse-drawn carriage after saying goodbye to Elric, who returned to Farpas. It was already late when he got home. Xavier got off the carriage; he was tired. His family and some members of the village came running from the fields to receive him as soon as they saw the carriage.

‘How is the royal city?’ asked one of his brothers.

‘Have you been able to claim the family’s nobility title?’ asked his father.

‘Did you see the king?’ asked one of the villagers.

‘What element do you have?’ asked his mother.

Against this question, Xavier’s shoulders fell. He didn’t answer anything. He handed over the stone molded in the form of a seal with the family crest to his father. His mother was given the mage badge.

‘What does this mean?’ asked his mother, smiling.

‘Shadow magician,’ said one of the neighbors.

‘Oh!’ Everybody was disappointed.

Xavier entered the house and went straight to the room he shared with his brothers. He threw himself into the bed. His father came in a little later.

‘It doesn’t matter; even if you are a shadow magician, we are nobles, and we finally have been able to redeem the pride of our family,’ comforted his father. His face drew with a smile as he imagined a bright future.

Xavier was holding his fists under his clothes without saying anything. He could not tell his father that there was no pride in their surname.

His brothers and his mother were disappointed. They expected something better from him.

‘At least we will pay less taxes,’ said his elder brother, Ferol, returning to the countryside before the last rays of the sun were gone.

‘Are you not going to eat?’ said his brother Orli while he was picking up pieces of Xavier’s bread.

Xavier hadn’t eaten anything all day, but he wasn’t very hungry. So many emotions, suffering, and stress ruined his appetite; even for a starving man like him, it was too much. However, he would never let food go to waste. He got up from the bed, went to the stone stove, and picked up the dish that his mother had kept for him. The portion was generous. He took the bread and sat down at the table with a glass of water. After a few bites, his appetite came back, and he began to devour the food with haste.

“The tears taste better with bread,” Xavier thought. Now that he had eaten, he felt more calm.

‘I am very tired; can I go to sleep?’ Xavier said to his father, who continued to look with obsession at the stone seal in his hands.

Having received no reply, Xavier went to bed. He fell asleep immediately. The next morning, he woke up to his brother’s screams, as usual.

‘If you don’t wake up early, you’ll be left without breakfast,’ yelled Orli.

“It was all a dream, just a dream,” he said to himself. However, he still wore his noble clothes.

Xavier went to the table. His brother, Ferol, was already taking some spoonfuls of his oatmeal.

‘Hey, that is my oatmeal,’ said Xavier.

‘Heaven helps those who come early,’ replied Ferol. That was his usual answer.

‘Change your clothes before you eat. Don’t stain them,’ his mother said to him. If they are stained, they will lose value. If we can sell them, we might get a few copper coins.

‘I will need them to go to Liev’s tower,’ said Xavier.

‘Pft!, forget about that. Shadow magic is useless; everyone knows it; we need another hand in the fields,’ replied his father while he was still looking at the seal. He was obsessed with the bronze piece.

Xavier kept silent and went to change. Now that he was a shadow magician, he had become useless again, only the youngest son of a miserable family in a poor little village in the miserable south. Xavier changed into his broken and worn-out clothes that he used to wear to work in the fields. When he sat at the table, his brother Ferol had already eaten half his oatmeal. Xavier knew it was better not to argue with his older brother. Defeated without a fight, he sat at the table and ate what was left.

Later, he went back to the fields with the other men, to the scorching sun, the hard work, and the burning sensation from the hoe in his hands. The sun burning his skin without compassion and the sweat running down his back and forehead made him doubt his memories and made him think that maybe all that happened had been nothing more than a dream. No one treated him differently anymore. Trina didn’t even look in his direction. She went from a flirty gaze to ignoring him.

‘This is my life; it’ll always be.’

Although he said this, there was still hope in his mind. Maybe his traces of fire magic were enough to do something.

Two days passed, and Xavier’s desire to pursue a future as a magician became more intense. But for that, he had to attend the Liev Tower. His father opposed the idea. Recently, his attitude had changed; he became more and more overbearing; he talked nonstop to his neighbors about the history of his noble family; and he complained that the hard work of a peasant was not suitable for his lineage, among other nonsense.

Like every day, the family got up early. With the first rays of the sun, they were already working the fields; the sight of a carriage approaching called their attention. The family emblem could not be clearly distinguished yet, but the shape and characteristics of the carriage were not those of the lord of Humol.

‘Clinton!’ said Xavier loudly.

He had forgotten everything about the Van Ferra party. There were still a few minutes before the carriage arrived at his house. Xavier abandoned the hoe and ran away.

On arriving where his father was, he informed him.

‘It must be Van Ferra’s carriage. I have to meet with Clinton, the family’s future heir. It would be an offense not to attend.’ Xavier said nothing more and ran to the house.

He took a quick bath, but was as careful as he could. By the time the dirt had been removed from his body, the carriage had already reached his door. Efrir de Exel had provided Clinton with all the information he needed about Xavier, his family, the village, and a little bit more. The coachman had already made this tour and knew where to go. Merila went out to receive the carriage. It was not the carriage of Efrit de Exel; both the car and the family shield were different. The design of Van Ferra’s family crest was a pair of peacocks facing each other.

‘We are looking for the honorable Xavier de Vonder,’ said the coachman.

‘My son is changing clothes. He is not ready yet,’ Merila explained.

‘I understand; we’ll wait for him then,’ the coachman said.

A few minutes later, Xavier was out the door in his only decent suit. The coachman came down from his seat and opened the door of the carriage. Xavier was ready to go in when he realized that the carriage was not empty.

‘Clinton! What are you doing here?’ asked Xavier.

‘I came to look for you, of course,’ answered Clinton with a smile, remembering his father’s angry face when he found out that he had personally invited Xavier to his party. His father strongly refused to accept it, but Clinton was more clever and told him that it would be a shame for the family if a high-ranking nobleman like himself failed to keep his word. To put salt on the wound, he decided to go and find Xavier in person.

‘First, we need clothes,’ said Clinton, looking at Xavier from head to toe. His low-quality suit did not have the threshold to attend any event of the high nobility. Driver, we will switch to the Tumulos carriage in Mennor; from there, we will go to Farpas,” yelled Clinton, opening a window.

“Of course, sir,” replied the coachman, using the bridles to guide the horses.