The morning sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone path as Brom and Aelar walked through the sleepy village. Dew still clung to the wildflowers along the roadside, and the scent of freshly baked bread wafted from nearby cottages. Brom's weathered leather boots moved with purpose, while Aelar's newer ones struggled to keep pace.
Brom glanced sidelong at the boy, noting his wide-eyed wonder at everything they passed. He looks so unprepared for what's coming, Brom thought, stroking his short beard absently. But there's something peculiar about him I can't quite place.
"I haven't properly introduced you to the school yet," Brom said, breaking the comfortable silence between them. His deep voice carried the weight of experience. "It's called 'Iron Hedge,' the only school in this region." He paused, watching as a hawk circled overhead. "Every resident here needs to learn swordsmanship because there are demons lurking around these parts. We're almost there."
Aelar nodded attentively, his slender fingers nervously adjusting the strap of his mysteriously heavy bag. Demons? he wondered. Like in the old stories? The concept seemed both terrifying and oddly exciting. He kept his questions to himself for now, not wanting to appear ignorant before they even arrived.
As they crested the final hill, the Iron Hedge Academy came into view. What had looked like a distant stone outcropping from the village was revealed to be an imposing structure of granite and iron. Massive walls surrounded the complex, at least thirty feet high and topped with iron spikes that glinted in the morning light.
Aelar stopped in his tracks, mouth falling open. The fortifications weren't merely impressive—they were intimidating, clearly designed not just to keep something out, but to contain whatever might be within.
"Wait, sir, is this really the school?" Aelar asked, his voice barely above a whisper. A shiver ran down his spine despite the warmth of the day.
Brom turned to him, his face softening at the boy's reaction. He remembered his first sight of these walls, twenty years earlier. "Yes," he replied, gesturing toward the structure with a calloused hand. "You're probably wondering why the walls are so tall."
Aelar nodded, swallowing hard.
"It's because this place is strict about security," Brom continued, his eyes darting briefly to the watchtowers positioned at each corner. "Demons sometimes sneak in without anyone noticing."
"D-Demons?" Aelar stammered, confusion evident across his youthful features. His brow furrowed deeply, and his hands tightened around his bag strap until his knuckles whitened. The word seemed to carry a meaning he couldn't quite grasp, as if it should be familiar but wasn't.
Brom noticed the puzzled look on Aelar's face, studying it carefully. Strange, he thought. It's as if he doesn't know what demons are. Everyone in these parts grows up hearing about them from the cradle. Brom was about to explain further, but a quick glance at the position of the sun told him they were running late.
"We'll talk about it later," Brom said, placing a firm hand on Aelar's shoulder and urging him forward. "We need to get inside before the morning bell."
"Yes, sir," Aelar replied, straightening his posture and quickening his step.
They approached the massive iron gate, where two guards stood at attention, hands resting on the hilts of their swords. Their armor bore the emblem of the Iron Hedge—a thornbush wrapped around a blade. Brom reached into his coat and produced a badge made of burnished metal, showing it to the guard on the left.
"Sir Brom," the guard acknowledged with a respectful nod, his keen eyes sweeping over the badge that identified Brom as a teacher at the school. His gaze then shifted suspiciously to Aelar, who tried not to fidget under the scrutiny. "Do you know this boy following you?" the guard asked while checking their verification ledger.
Brom placed a protective hand on Aelar's back. "Yes, guard. Please let him through. It's his first day at school." Brom's tone was polite but carried an undercurrent of authority that wasn't to be questioned.
The guard hesitated for just a moment before nodding. "Understood, sir," he said, pulling out a small book from his belt pouch. "Name?" he asked Aelar directly.
"Aelar, sir," the boy replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
The guard scribbled the name down with a small piece of charcoal, then stepped aside. "Welcome to Iron Hedge Academy, Aelar. Mind the rules, and you'll do fine."
As they walked through the gate, Aelar felt as if he were crossing into another world entirely. The outer walls had hidden a sprawling complex of buildings, courtyards, and training grounds. The main yard bustled with activity—students of various ages practiced sword forms in synchronized movements, their blades catching the sunlight as they moved through their stances.
Others sparred in cordoned areas, the clash of steel against steel ringing out across the grounds. Instructors moved among them, barking corrections or demonstrating proper technique with fluid, practiced movements.
Aelar's eyes widened with excitement at the sight, a smile spreading across his face. This is nothing like the schools I've heard about, he thought. This is... magnificent! "This place is incredible!" he exclaimed, unable to contain his enthusiasm.
Brom smiled at the boy's reaction, a rare softening of his usually stern features. At least he has the right spirit, he thought. That will serve him well here.
"Aelar," Brom said, guiding him toward one of the side buildings, "let's head over to meet the teacher who will guide you this year. I'll only be able to teach you directly after you've completed your first year here." If you survive that long, he added silently to himself, remembering the dropout rate among first-years.
"I understand, sir. I'll do my best," Aelar replied eagerly, determination visible in the set of his jaw and the straightening of his shoulders.
They walked down a long, stone-floored hallway lit by enchanted lanterns that gave off a steady, unwavering light. The walls were adorned with paintings of famous graduates and battle scenes depicting victories against demonic forces. Aelar tried not to stare too long at the disturbing depictions of the creatures—misshapen things with too many limbs and features that seemed to shift even within the confines of their frames.
Finally, they arrived at a heavy wooden door near the end of the corridor. A brass nameplate read "Professor Sol" in elegant script. Brom raised his fist and knocked firmly.
"Hey, Mr. Sol, are you there?" Brom called through the door.
Silence greeted them. Brom waited a moment before knocking again, harder this time. Still nothing.
"Sigh," Brom said aloud, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. Every single time, he thought. You'd think he'd learn. "He's sleeping again. I can't open the door because it's locked from the inside. Could you step back a little, Aelar?"
"Oh, okay..." Aelar replied, hastily moving aside, wondering what his mentor planned to do.
Brom took two steps back, planted his feet firmly on the stone floor, and launched a powerful kick at the door. The solid oak splintered around the lock with a loud crack, and the door flew open, banging against the inner wall.
The noise revealed a cluttered office with books and scrolls piled high on every surface. Seated at a desk in the center of the chaos, head pillowed on his arms atop a stack of ungraded papers, was Professor Sol. At the sound of the door crashing open, he merely shifted slightly and continued to snore.
Brom's face darkened with irritation, a vein pulsing at his temple. Every. Single. Time, he thought again, clenching his fists.
Aelar began to sweat nervously, sensing the mounting tension. Oh no, he thought. Is this normal? Should I say something?
Before he could decide, Brom filled his lungs and bellowed at a volume that seemed impossible for a human throat: "WAKE UP!!!"
The effect was immediate and dramatic. Professor Sol jolted upright as if struck by lightning, papers flying in all directions. His chair tipped backward, and he flailed wildly before crashing to the floor in an undignified heap of limbs and disheveled clothing.
"Wha—who—demons?" Sol sputtered, scrambling to his feet and reaching instinctively for a sword that wasn't at his hip. His tousled hair stuck up at odd angles, and a piece of paper remained attached to his cheek.
"You're always sleeping when you're in your spot, Mr. Sol," Brom said, crossing his arms and looking down at the disoriented teacher.
Sol blinked rapidly, recognition slowly dawning in his bleary eyes. He yawned widely, not bothering to cover his mouth, and stretched his arms above his head until his joints popped audibly.
"Mr. Brom, it's you," Sol said through another yawn. "I thought it was someone else disturbing my sleep again." He scratched his stubbled chin absently. "What's going on? Is there an emergency drill?"
"I've got someone to introduce to you," Brom replied, gesturing toward Aelar who stood awkwardly in the doorway. "Your new student."
Sol's shoulders slumped visibly as he processed this information. "I'm already struggling with my nine students, and you're giving me another one to deal with?" He massaged his temples dramatically. "My head's going to hurt again. I barely get any sleep as it is."
Nine students doesn't sound like many, Aelar thought, perplexed. And he seems to sleep plenty...
"This is an order from Lord Rodel," Brom stated firmly, brooking no argument. "There's nothing I can do. You have to take care of your new responsibility." His tone softened slightly as he turned to Aelar. "By the way, Aelar—"
"What is it, Sir Brom?" the boy asked, standing straighter.
Brom placed both hands on Aelar's shoulders, looking him directly in the eyes. "Do your best," he said simply, but the words carried weight.
Aelar felt a surge of determination. "I will, sir," he promised, meeting Brom's gaze steadily.
"Alright," Brom said with a nod of approval. "Hey, Mr. Sol, I'll leave the rest to you." With that, he turned and strode out of the office, footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Sol sighed deeply, running his fingers through his messy hair in a futile attempt to tame it. "Yeah, yeah..." he muttered under his breath. Another student to worry about, he thought. At least this one looks less trouble than the others. Maybe.
He turned his attention fully to Aelar for the first time. "Hey kid, what's your name again?" he asked, stifling another yawn.
"Aelar, sir," the boy replied politely, still standing at attention.
"I see, Aelar," Sol said, eyeing the splintered door with dismay. That's the third time this month Brom's broken it, he thought sourly. "If you don't mind, could you fix that door for me?"
"Oh..." Aelar glanced at the damaged door with concern.
Sol chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "Nah, I'm just joking. Let me handle that after this—"
"Sir, it's done," Aelar interrupted.
"Wait, what??" Sol blinked in confusion.
To his astonishment, the door was already repaired—the splintered wood mended, the broken hinges fixed, and the lock functional once more. It looked better than it had before Brom kicked it in.
"What the heck did you do??" Sol asked, eyes wide with disbelief. He moved closer to inspect the door, running his fingers over the wood that had been splintered moments before.
"Oh, I have equipment in my bag," Aelar explained casually, patting the mysterious satchel he carried. "I have everything in my bag, so I thought, why not fix it, sir?" His tone suggested this was the most normal thing in the world, though a hint of pride colored his words.
Sol's eyes began to water, and to Aelar's surprise, the teacher suddenly burst into tears. "Uwaa, you're a lifesaver!" he exclaimed, grasping Aelar's hands in gratitude. "Good thing you're here~~ I don't want to get scolded again."
Is this really a teacher? Aelar wondered, but he smiled politely. "Oh, that's a relief, sir."
Sol quickly composed himself, wiping away his tears and straightening his rumpled clothing. "Alright, let's go," he said with newfound energy. "It's time to head to class. Your classmates are waiting, and they're... well, you'll see." Perhaps this strange new student will balance out the chaos of the others, he thought hopefully. Or make it worse. Only time will tell.
As they walked out of the office together, Aelar cast one last glance at his repaired handiwork, a small smile playing on his lips. This place is going to be interesting, he thought, following his unusual new teacher down the hallway toward whatever challenges awaited him at the Iron Hedge Academy.
Aelar stood just outside the heavy wooden door, his fingers twitching nervously at his side. The stone corridor was cold, but his chest felt warm with something unfamiliar—a mixture of fear and excitement that made his heart race.
Through the narrow glass window in the door, he could see them—students. Dozens of them. Boys and girls, all different, all new. Some leaned forward eagerly. Others slouched, looking bored or tired. Not a single face was familiar, but that only made Aelar's curiosity stronger.
Sol had given him clear instructions. With his short dark hair tied back with a leather cord, trimmed beard, and sharp, tired eyes that seemed to have witnessed more than they revealed, the instructor cut an imposing figure in his plain dark blue coat with silver buttons.
"You wait here until I call your name," Sol had said, his voice firm but not unkind. "No need to rush in like the world's ending."
So Aelar waited, not knowing how to act or what the rules were, but feeling something inside him buzz like a bird about to take flight. Soon, his name would be called. And when it was, everything would begin.
---
"Class, we have a new student joining us today," Sol announced, his voice carrying to every corner of the room. "Come in now."
Aelar stepped through the doorway and stood beside Sol, feeling the weight of every gaze upon him.
"This is Aelar," Sol said, resting a hand briefly on the boy's shoulder. "I expect you all to make him feel welcome." His eyes swept across the room, commanding and expectant.
"Yes, sir!" the class responded in unison, their voices echoing against the stone walls.
"Good." Sol nodded with satisfaction. "Aelar, take your place with the other boys." He gestured toward a corner of the room where several young men sat attentively.
"Yes, sir," Aelar replied, making his way to the indicated section, carefully avoiding the curious stares that followed him.
Once Aelar was seated, Sol turned back to face the class. "Now, let's begin with roll call. When you hear your name, respond clearly." He lifted a sheet of parchment and cleared his throat.
"Thorne Valric!"
A tall boy with piercing blue eyes and perfect posture rose to his feet. "Here, sir."
"Darian Crestfall!"
A boy with tousled brown hair and a mischievous smile jumped up. "Present and accounted for, sir!"
"Kaelric Dorne!"
A serious-looking boy with neatly cropped blonde hair stood, his expression composed and disciplined. "Here, sir."
"Riven Blackmoor!"
From the back row, a boy with wild dark hair barely looked up as he mumbled, "Here, sir."
Sol moved on to the girls' section. "Lana Rodel!"
A girl with bright, welcoming eyes stood and offered a small wave. "Here, sir!"
"Sylra Fenwyn!"
Rising confidently, a tall girl with sharp features and an air of authority answered, "Present, sir."
"Elowen Mirell!"
A gentle-looking girl with soft, wavy brown hair rose slowly, her voice barely audible. "Here, sir."
"Nyra Vexen!"
With a swift motion, a girl with an athletic build and fierce eyes stood proudly. "Here, sir!"
"Maelis Thornwyn!"
The last girl rose calmly, her steady gaze meeting Sol's. "Present, sir."
Sol set down his parchment and surveyed the room, his expression softening slightly. "Very good. Now that we're all accounted for, there's something important I must share with you all." He moved to the center of the room, his demeanor growing solemn.
"Before we begin today's lessons, I want to tell you why this academy exists—why each of you is here. It's a story that began long before any of you were born, and one that will help you understand the responsibility that now rests on your shoulders..."