Aron wakes up in the familiar blank void. Not white or black this time, but it has shifted into a grey. He looks around.

“Love what you’ve done with the place, Voice.” Aron smirks.

“Why thank you… I was getting tired of staring into literal nothingness. I can also do a gradient type thing.” The Astral Voice chuckles and makes the walls shift colors every few seconds or so, cycling between white, black, and grey. 

“Anyway, have you figured out who I am yet?” The Voice asks, snarky.

“I think I have, but I’m gonna wait for a bit… I’m thinking when I get my friend back and avenge my master’s death.” Aron says angrily. 

“Woah, touchy. Did you not like that part where one of my men killed your master? Shit.” 

“O…one of your men killed her?” Aron breathes deeply to try to keep his composure.

“Well… I wouldn’t say that… I just… we’re having a good time, right Aron? Ol’ buddy, ol’ pal. Hahaha… Right?” The Voice chuckles nervously. Aron’s mind steadies as he speaks in a low voice.

“Yeah… something like that. I’m going to kill you. You know that, right?” Aron looks up as if the Voice were right above him. 

“H…how are you gonna kill me… boo boo? You’re still far too weak to even go up against a Kingsman, which is who killed your dear old Auntie Trish.” The Voice chuckles slightly, regaining their calmness.

“I’ll train. When I do, you’re not gonna stand a chance against me. Bye, Boo Boo.” Aron makes a door like it’s second nature to him and steps out into the chilly air, floating down to his body once again. Once he’s back, the carriage slows to a stop. Several days have passed since Aron met the man in the carriage. 

“Are we there yet?” Aron sits up.

“No, I’m just stoppin’ for some food. Yous should eat somethin’ too, kid. Yous look terrible.” The man says, getting out of the carriage and pointing at Aron’s disheveled state. 

“Yeah… losing an important person will do that to you.” Aron gets out and sits on a nearby rock, slightly annoyed at the man.

“Sorry, kid. I didn’t know. If you want, I can cook somethin’ up for yous. Actually, no. Yous need it.” The man begins to gather up some sticks and puts them in a pile in a circle of rocks surrounding it. 

“Sir, you don’t need to do that.” Aron sighs apologetically.

“No, I insist.” The man shakes his head.

“I mean the sticks. I have fire magic.” Aron chuckles and a spark flies out of his hand.

“Ohh, okay, do ya thing.” The man watches Aron spark a flame and light the sticks.

“Since you gathered them up already, I guess it won’t hurt to use them.” Aron smiles. The man smiles back.

“Yous know, you remind me of my son. He was such a little rascal. Loved helpin’ people,” The man smiles, reminiscing about his son. 

“But one day, some people took his kindness for granted.” He tears up.

“They killed my boy.” The man sniffles and a tear falls from his eye.

“That’s horrible, I’m sorry sir.” Aron goes over to the man to hug him. 

“It’s alright, that was over… Gods, what was it, thirty-odd years ago? It’s nice seein’ somethin’ that reminds me of him.” The man smiles.

“What’s yours name, boy?” The fire crackles, making a popping sound.

“Aron Moder. What’s yours?”

“A royal? No wonder yous had that sigil. Name’s Lod.” Lod pats Aron’s head and smiles. A burning smell comes from the meat placed on the fire.

 “Ah, Pinf, we let the meat roast too long. Sorry, kid.” Lod tries to fan the smoke over toward the other direction and it ends up going up.

“It’s alright, no worries sir. We don’t have to eat tonight.” Aron smiles. The man laughs heartily.

“I suppose yous are right, but I’m hungry.” The man goes to the back of the carriage and picks out some meat. He comes back and Aron lights up another flame.

“So… what happened to your son, exactly… if you don’t mind sharing of course.” Aron asks, trying to be polite.

“Well… he was trying out to be a royal guard for the Queen. To be a royal guard, yous have to fight in a mock duel with an established guard and knock them out, or incapacitate them in some way. In the mock duel, my son, Toka, almost knocked out his opponent, however… he let his guard down and thought that he had won. That’s when he stopped and tried to help the man up, but the guard… stabbed him with a knife made of ice. While technically legal in the duel, my son lost too much blood and he later succumbed to his injuries. I saw it happen with my own eyes.”

A tear falls down Lod’s face and Aron hugs him once again.

“That’s horrible, sir. No father should have to witness his child’s death.” Aron sheds a tear as well while comforting Lod. 

“I know… my son was a good kid, but I suppose he was a bit naive. He loved helping people… and yous have helped me. I see a lot of good in yous, kid. Don’t waste it.” Lod smiles and hugs Aron one last time before getting the meat out of the fire. He shares half of it with Aron and they begin eating.

“So… why are yous traveling to Marenth?” Lod asks, curiously.

“My master told me to go to a place called The Lost Ale on this note. It’s the last thing I have from her other than memories.” Aron tilts his head down.

“Gods, sorry to hear that. I’ve heard about that place, though. It’s said to be a place where all the strong mages of the world meet. She tryin’ to get yous stronger for somethin’?” Lod asks.

“My friend got kidnapped by a man in a black mask with a creepy white smile.” Aron breathes in deeply.

“Ah, that cult. They call themselves the Kingsmen, but they don’t appear to be affiliated with the kingdom of Moder, or any kingdom, in any way. Watch yourself, kid, I’ve heard they’re pretty strong.” 

“I’ve seen them before. Yeah, they’re pretty strong, but I killed a member when I was three. I had just learned that I had powers. Then, another incident occurred when I was staying at the University. There was a teacher there who turned out to be a Kingsman or whatever and I killed him pretty easily with an ice spike.” Lod’s mouth opens wide.

“You killed a member of that cult when yous were three? And six? Gods, kid. You must be pretty strong.”

“Yeah… I guess you could say that. Not strong enough to beat this one though. Not yet at least.” Aron clenches his fist.

“The one that kidnapped your friend?”

“Yeah… they overpowered everyone so easily… there’s no way I can beat them like this.” Aron sighs.

“That’s why I need to train and get stronger, whatever means necessary. How far away are we from Mavi in Marenth?”

“Well, we’re close to the continental bridge between Garto and Marenth… so about a week, at least.” Lod sighs, followed by Aron as well.

“Sorry, kid. I wanna get yous there as fast as possible so that yous can do whatever you’re gonna do.” Lod smiles.

“Cheers to that.” Aron smiles, holding up the rest of his food. They cheers and take their final bites. 

Clang!

A door unlocks and a masked person goes into a small, grey building, holding a bag that could fit a person inside of it. The mask enters the building and another person in a mask salutes them. 

“Good evening, Bishop Mil. I trust you have the girl?”

“Yes. Now, out of my way. I need to talk to the boss.”

“As you wish, sir.” 

The masked people salute each other. The bishop trades the bag for the key and opens the door and goes inside, boots echoing across the halls. The door immediately slams shut, and darkness covers the room. Muffled screams are heard from the bag, all the way down the halls of the cold, damp place.