The hooded man dragged me all the way to a small park, far enough from the noble estate that I could finally breathe again. Not that I knew why he’d done it. But judging by the way he was acting, it seemed like he had just saved my sorry hide from getting spotted by the guards—or worse, someone from that estate.


    Not that I was feeling particularly grateful.


    "What a reckless one you are," he said, pointing at me like I was some misbehaving puppy.


    Then he laughed.


    Yeah, laughed.


    As if this whole situation was the funniest thing he’d seen all week. Meanwhile, I was standing there, trying to figure out if I should be relieved or scared. Behind him, the elf girl just staring at me.


    And then, before I could even think of a response—


    "First things first," he began, shifting into full lecture mode. "The estate you just trespassed belongs to a duke. A duke. Secondly, you went and picked a fight with his son. And third, you’re lucky you’re still a kid. You better pray that noble brat doesn’t run crying to his father about how he got his butt kicked by some random street urchin. Though, honestly? His pride probably won’t let him."


    The guy stared me down, his eyes sharp, it was like he was waiting for me to say something dumb.


    I held up both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I get it. That was my bad. I got caught up in the moment. You’re totally right, mister."


    I wasn’t about to argue. Mainly because, well… he was right. And also because I had the distinct feeling that if I annoyed him any further, he might just drop-kick me back to the estate himself.


    "Uhmm… actually, he just saved me," the elf girl suddenly spoke up.


    Both the hooded man and I turned to her. He blinked in surprise before grinning. "Oh? So you saved an elf, huh?"


    I didn’t answer. No nod, no shrug, nothing. I just watched him, trying to gauge what he’d do next. The guy had a weird energy—like he enjoyed messing with people just for fun.


    "Well, I did just save your sorry hide from getting caught by the guards," he continued, tilting his head smugly. "Maybe I deserve a little appreciation? A simple ‘thank you’ wouldn’t kill you, y’know."


    Okay, yeah, the guy was nuts. But unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong. He was also… weirdly blunt. Like, painfully straightforward.


    I sighed. "Thank… you." My voice was about as lifeless as a week-old corpse.


    The man cupped a hand to his ear. "Huh? What was that?"


    I frowned. "I said thank you."


    "I still can’t hear it. Try saying it like you mean it." He turned to the elf girl, motioning toward me. "Doesn’t he sound like he’s on his deathbed?"


    She just nodded silently. Traitor.


    I took a deep breath. "I’m grateful, mister," I said, this time putting at least a little effort into it.


    "Nope, still too weak," he said, shaking his head. Then, in a dramatic flourish, he straightened his back and puffed out his chest. "Here, I’ll teach you. Do it like this—"


    Suddenly, he shouted at the top of his lungs, "THANK YOU, MISTER, FOR SAVING MY SORRY ASS FROM GETTING BANNED FROM THIS KINGDOM!"


    His voice echoed across the marketplace. Stall owners turned to stare. Passersby shot us weird looks. A kid eating a pastry actually dropped it.


    I wanted to die.


    I gave him a flat stare, then waved him off. "Seriously, thanks, but I’m not saying that."


    "Alright, alright, just kidding. You definitely wouldn’t," he said with a grin.


    "Cool. So I can scram now?" I asked, already turning to leave. My parents were probably worried sick by now, and I had no intention of making things worse.


    "Absolutely!" he said cheerfully.


    Finally. After all the chaos I’d been through today, I was finally going home. I could already picture it—walking through the door, collapsing into bed, maybe even sneaking an extra slice of dinner—


    And yet…


    As I walked, I realized something unsettling.


    The hooded man was still beside me.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    So was the elf girl.


    They were just there, matching my pace like a pair of silent mimes.


    I frowned. "Uh… hey. What now?"


    "Oh, right," the man said, snapping his fingers. "I forgot to mention—I know your master. Or mentor. Or whatever you call him."


    That stopped me in my tracks.


    I blinked. "What?"


    "Brandt," he said casually.


    I glanced at the elf girl, but she was just quietly listening.


    "You know him?" I asked, still trying to process this.


    The man nodded, lazily swatting a mosquito off his cheek. "Yeah, actually, we’re old friends."


    I narrowed my eyes. "How’s that?"


    He smirked. "Let’s just say I figured out you were his student the moment I saw you. Brandt described you pretty well—said you had that look in your eyes. And after watching you fight, yeah, no doubt about it. Same energy, same stubbornness. You’re definitely his nephew."


    I swallowed. "Wait."


    He ignored my reaction and kept going.


    "Actually, I’ve been following you ever since we first met," he added nonchalantly.


    My brain short-circuited for a second.


    This guy had been watching me this whole time?


    Suddenly, I had the strangest urge to check if I still had my pouch of coins.


    By the time I finally got home, I had two extra people trailing behind me.


    One was the hooded man—who had now introduced himself as Leander. He still hadn’t explained why he was so eager to meet my family, just that he had something important to tell them. Suspicious? Absolutely. But at this point, I was too drained to argue.


    The other was the elf girl I had saved from those kids. Rhea. Turns out, she was ten years old—which, to my absolute shock, made her older than me. Not that she acted like it.


    When I asked her if she had any family or at least someone she could go to, she just shook her head. Apparently, she didn’t—because she had been sold as a slave.


    So, naturally, I did what any decent person would do—I invited her to come along.


    And now here we were.


    As expected, when we arrived, my parents—and Clarisse—were in full panic mode. They were at some kind of guard post, looking like they had just spent hours running around town. Their faces were pale, their body language screamed freaking out, and they couldn’t seem to stay still for even a second.


    I told them that Leander and Rhea had found me and brought me back home.


    And, surprisingly, they believed it.


    Which brings us to now—dinner time.


    The table was set with a modest spread. Nothing fancy, but enough for everyone to share. After the day I’d had, even a simple meal felt like a feast.


    Across the table, my father sat beside Leander, eyeing him curiously. "So, you’re the one Brandt kept mentioning in his letters when he was just starting his journey?" he asked, smiling.


    Wait. What?


    Brandt wrote letters? And not just letters—letters where he mentioned Leander? Since when was that a thing?


    And now that Leander had ditched his cloak, I could finally get a good look at him. And, huh… yeah, I could see it. The guy kinda gave off the same energy as Brandt. Not identical, but definitely in the same ballpark.


    His hair was long—tied up in a ponytail, the kind that made him look just a bit too cool for someone who probably wasn’t. Dark blue, too. Not black, not navy, but that deep shade that made you wonder if he had it dyed on purpose. His eyes? Golden brown. Kind of like honey. Oh, and his skin was tanned.


    Seriously, if he told me he was some legendary swordsman traveling the land in search of a worthy opponent, I’d probably believe him.


    Leander grinned. "Didn’t expect him to name-drop me in his letters. Bet he talked trash about me, huh?" he said, chuckling.


    My father awkwardly nodded. "Uh… yeah, you’re actually spot on."


    That earned a round of laughter from both him and my mother.


    Meanwhile, on the other side of the table, Rhea and Clarisse were deep in conversation. I had no clue what they were talking about—probably girl stuff—but judging by their expressions, they were getting along just fine.


    Which was good. I think.


    For now, though, I was more focused on the fact that Brandt had been casually writing letters about his mysterious ‘friend’ this whole time.


    Yeah. I was definitely missing some context here.


    So, here’s what I gathered from their conversation.


    Apparently, Brandt and Leander met at a training camp. You know, the kind where warriors bond, fight together, and either become lifelong friends or bitter rivals. Lucky for them, they fell into the first category. Over time, they developed a deep friendship.


    According to Leander, they met up again recently after years apart. Had a chat, caught up on old times… and then, by pure coincidence, he happened to stumble across us.


    Yeah. Totally not suspicious.


    "So, what brings you to the capital?" my mother asked, raising an eyebrow. "Here to celebrate the Days of Renewal?"


    Leander set his mug down with a casual smile. "No, actually. And, luckily, I came here looking for you guys. Or, more specifically—your son. Brandt’s student."


    The room went silent.


    My father, my mother, and even Clarisse turned to stare at me. Their expressions all said the same thing: What the heck does this guy want with you?


    To be fair, I was wondering the same thing.


    "Vonn?" my father finally asked, looking at Leander for an explanation.


    Leander nodded. "Yeah, this son of yours. And Brandt’s nephew." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "Like I said, Brandt and I trained together for years. The last time we saw each other, he told me to track you down." He lifted a finger and pointed straight at me. "And continue guiding you. You know… in swords and stuff."


    I was just as surprised as my family.


    Leander had said it so casually, like he was commenting on the weather, then just went right back to eating.


    And that was it.


    So not only had Brandt told this guy about me, but he had actually asked him to track me down and continue my training?


    What a guy.


    "So, you’re here now to teach Vonn or something?" my father asked, his expression somewhere between curiosity and mild disbelief.


    "That’s quite correct," Leander replied, glancing at me. "But hey, if you think of it as just more work, don’t stress. I’m really just returning a favor for a friend. I don’t know where Brandt is now, but I’d like to think he’d be happy knowing I was teaching your son."


    My mother, who had been quiet up until now, suddenly spoke.


    "No…" she murmured, shaking her head.


    Leander raised an eyebrow.


    "We’re just… surprised," she clarified, glancing at my father.


    "What a lucky guy. You’ve got yourself a second teacher," Clarisse said out of nowhere.


    I turned to look at her. Rhea, meanwhile, was too busy tearing into a piece of meat.


    I didn’t respond. Instead, I just gave Clarisse an awkward smile and scratched the back of my head. Because, honestly? I had no idea how to feel about this.


    "When will this training actually start?" my father asked.


    "As soon as possible," Leander replied with a grin.


    At that, my parents and I exchanged glances. No one said anything, but I could tell we were all thinking the same thing: Wow. That soon, huh?


    "So, we’re actually heading home the day after tomorrow," my father finally said. "Till then, can you bear with us? After that, we’ll go back home, and you can start Vonn’s training there."


    Leander blinked. Then blinked again.


    "Ah… no, wait. I think there’s a misunderstanding," he said, raising a hand apologetically. "Forgive me for not making it clearer, but I don’t plan on training Vonn here."


    My father frowned. "What do you mean?"


    Leander leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I plan to train him in a different environment—somewhere he can really push his limits. Simply put, I’m taking him with me."


    Silence.


    I blinked.


    Wait. What?


    "If that’s what Brandt wanted," Leander added casually, like he hadn’t just dropped a massive bomb in the middle of dinner.


    Once again, my parents and I exchanged glances. No words, just that silent, unspoken communication that families develop over years of shared experiences. And judging by the way Mother''s face was slowly contorting into a worried frown, I could tell she wasn’t exactly thrilled about where this conversation was heading.


    “Well, that’s… quite the plan, Leander,” Father said forcing a smile.


    “I think we need to think this through a little more before making any decisions,” Mother added, her voice calm but firm—the kind of tone that meant this discussion isn’t over.


    Honestly, I got where she was coming from.


    My mother was clearly worried. I’d seen that exact expression before—back when my sister was just eight and had to leave home for tutoring. She had the same look on her face back then, pacing around, worrying endlessly.


    This time, though, I was the one leaving.


    After dinner, Leander made his way out of the inn, saying he’d be back tomorrow night for an answer. He didn’t pressure us, didn’t push—just gave us time to think it over.


    Meanwhile, Rhea stayed.


    Not because she had nowhere to go (which, technically, she didn’t), but because my mother insisted. She had taken a liking to Rhea, which, honestly, wasn’t surprising. My mom had a soft spot for kids, and Rhea had this quiet, polite demeanor that made it hard not to feel protective over her.


    Clarisse, too, had somehow already grown fond of her. I wasn’t sure how that happened so quickly, but I was too tired to question it.


    So while they stayed up, chatting and listening to Rhea’s story, I went to bed. A part of me was still processing everything that had happened today. But another part?


    Yeah, that part just wanted sleep.