Arch 2: The Eyes of the Kingdom (begins)
After Balen's departure, Elric stood by the window, staring out at the quiet village beyond. The evening light cast long shadows over the dirt path, but his mind was far from peaceful. The words of the scholar echoed in his mind, "They're afraid of you." It wasn't the first time Elric had felt the weight of fear hanging in the air. But now, with Balen's confirmation, the reality was undeniable.
The council saw him as a threat.
And King Taran—his father—had likely heard of his growing influence in the countryside.
Elric exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching as if to grasp the weight of the situation. He wasn't just a healer anymore. He had become a symbol, one that others feared.
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The following morning, a messenger arrived at the clinic. A royal seal adorned the letter in his hand, a mark that instantly set Elric on edge. It wasn't every day the king reached out.
"Prince Elric," the messenger said, bowing deeply. "His Majesty, King Taran, requests your presence at the palace. It is a matter of importance."
Elric's brow furrowed. The king had never called on him before—at least, not since his exile. There were no words exchanged between father and son in years. Their paths had diverged after the political machinations within the royal family led to Elric being cast out of the succession line.
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As Elric arrived at the grand palace, the familiar, imposing structure seemed more like a cage than the home it once was. He was escorted through the hallways to the king's private chambers, his heart pounding in his chest.
The moment the doors opened, Elric entered, and his eyes immediately fell on his father, King Taran. The older man was seated behind a massive wooden desk, his gaze focused on a stack of papers. For a moment, he didn't look up.
"Sit," the king finally commanded, he voiced low.
Elric did as he was told, his gaze was unwavering. The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable. It was as though the king was trying to read Elric, to gauge what the boy had become.
"You've been busy, Elric," the king said after a long moment, his tone somewhat cold. "I've heard rumors of your... skills."
Elric clenched his fists beneath the table. His father was always like this—measuring, calculating. His coldness wasn't unexpected. But something about the king's words sent a chill through Elric.
"I'm a healer, nothing more," Elric replied, his voice is steady. "But I do what I can."
King Taran finally met his gaze. For the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes—recognition, regret… or perhaps fear. "You were once a forgotten name, Elric. Now you move like a storm that no one saw coming."
Elric didn't flinch. "You cast me out, father. You had me exiled for what I was. And now you want to turn that into a weapon?"
The king's expression darkened, but he didn't rise to the bait. "No. I want to understand what you've become. You are no longer just the son I once knew. You are... a force. And the council is afraid of that force."
A tense silence followed his words, and for a moment, Elric felt the weight of everything pressing down on him. He had always known the truth of his exile—that the political games within the royal family had cast him aside. But hearing his father speak those words aloud made it real.
"You fear what I can do," Elric said quietly. "But you're not the only one."
---
Elric was eventually sent back to his clinic.
In the quiet that followed, he stood among the empty chairs, the weight of his meeting with the king pressing on his thoughts. The road ahead stretched like a blade—narrow, dangerous, and impossible to turn back from. The council would come for him. His father would be forced to choose. But Elric had never followed their rules. If they tried to stop him, he'd stand his ground. And if they tried to use him—he'd make sure they regretted it.
"Let them come," Elric murmured to himself.
And with that thought, he prepared for the storm that was sure to come.
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