The warm water barely reached Aurelion's waist, and the sides of the wooden tub still seemed far. There was no ledge he could grasp, no handhold. The stout, red-cheeked woman before him grumbled as she lathered the cloth.
Aurelion frowned. Eighteen months... For a full year and a half, he had been imprisoned in this ridiculous pile of flesh. His legs could carry him, his hands could grasp and throw objects, and he could even utter basic words. But still… this woman kept scrubbing him like an object.
"No!" His voice came out higher-pitched and more childish than he intended, but it was clear. He swatted his arm towards the hand holding the cloth, splashing water. "Me... Do! Myself!" The words tumbled from his mouth, not forming quite as he wished, but his meaning was clear.
Helga just laughed. "Of course, you will, little pointy ear," she said. She did not care. Grabbed his arm, and continued washing. "You can't even wipe your own ass yet, and you're talking about washing yourself. Just wait." The woman's fingers gripped his arm tightly.
"You foolish, crude woman!" Aurelion grumbled inwardly, thrashing helplessly in the tub. This was it! This woman's indifference, the way she almost seemed to enjoy his helpless rebellions… It was pure humiliation!
Helga, simply continued her work. "I see you're fuming again," she said with a slight chuckle. "What is it? Is the water too hot, or do you just not like me again?" She leaned her head towards Aurelion. "Don't worry, it's almost over. Then I'll get you all clean and send you off to eat that disgusting gruel."
Disgusting gruel… Aurelion grimaced at the word. The mere thought of that tasteless, sticky substance nauseated him, and Helga knew it. He gritted his teeth, most of which had now emerged but even this small victory didn't alleviate his frustration.
When the bath torture finally ended, Helga dried him with a rough towel, hastily tied a clean cloth on him, and dressed him. Aurelion kept his silent, furious gaze on her throughout the entire process. He had chosen to observe and wait, not to resist.
As Helga carried him towards the common hall, she muttered, "Let's see which corner you'll sulk in today." Over the woman's shoulder, Aurelion scanned the crowded and noisy hall.
The chaotic breakfast was over; now it was "free play" time. This meant the children were let loose in a corner to keep them from getting under the caregivers' feet. Cushions, old wooden blocks, a few faded rag dolls... And, of course, small-scale territorial wars.
Helga placed him on the floor among the other crawlers and toddlers. Aurelion, as usual, first scanned his surroundings. The blond-haired piglet-brat had once again claimed the largest pile of blocks, pushing away anyone who approached. The "Dormitory Siren" was surprisingly sitting quietly in a corner sucking her thumb, her lungs apparently resting. The others moved senselessly, jumping from one toy to another, or just staring blankly.
Just then, his gaze fell on the other end of the hall. A scrawny child, perhaps a few months older than him, was reaching for a wooden horse in a smaller, chubby child's hand. The little one held on tightly, while the other pulled forcefully.
Aurelion paused. It was a typical display of power: the bigger one trying to establish dominance. Initially, he didn't care. This was the nature of this primitive environment. The strong took. Hadn't he won that energy stone the same way? But when the bully couldn't pull the toy away, he pushed the smaller child. The chubby child fell and started to cry. The bully took the toy and smiled triumphantly.
Aurelion's eyes narrowed. This image… that fall, that helpless crying… He felt something stir within him, a quiet but rapidly seething presence.
The bully swaggered with the wooden horse. Aurelion tried to ignore it, but finally, he walked towards him with determined steps. The scrawny bully, his back turned, didn't notice Aurelion approaching. Aurelion silently picked up a sturdy, angular wooden block from the floor. The wood was heavy, but he could grasp it with his two tiny hands.
He stopped a few steps behind the bully. He gathered all his strength, the thin but determined muscles in his arms tensing, and lifted the wooden block. He brought it down right below the bully's nape, between his shoulders.
"THWACK!" The sound was dull and surprisingly loud.
The bully, momentarily confused, then staggered forward with a shrill scream and fell to the ground. The child began to cry in pain and surprise.
Aurelion stood over the child he had struck, block still in his hand. Just then, the chubby child on the floor turned to him with wide, astonished eyes, his crying stopped.
Aurelion looked at him. The momentary anger had subsided, replaced by cold disgust. This weakling… Just crying. Incapable of defending himself. This helplessness turned his anger in another direction.
He took a step and brought the block in his hand down on the chubby child's head
"THUD!"
After a moment of shock, the chubby child started crying even harder, while holding his head.
Aurelion looked at the crying child. For a moment... he had lost control. He felt brief, cold surprise at his own action. That outburst of anger, that disgust... He was usually more controlled. This hatred for weakness... did it disrupt his calculations? This sudden introspection, this momentary accounting of an unexpected emotional outburst, made him pause. His usual sharp observation, his instinct to scan his surroundings, blurred for an instant.
It was at that moment the first bully sprang up from the floor. He looked at Aurelion and lunged. Aurelion was late in noticing the sudden attack. The bully was slightly bigger and heavier. Caught off guard, Aurelion easily lost his balance and fell backward. The bully pounced, trying to punch and pull him with blind rage. Aurelion was pinned underneath, struggling desperately.
The place instantly descended into chaos. The screams of the two children and their struggle had frightened the others. Right in the midst of this turmoil, a familiar, sharp voice was heard: "STOP IT!"
Linnea! Over his shoulder, he saw her approaching rapidly. Linnea quickly reached them, pulling the bully off Aurelion in one motion. Aurelion sat up, breathless and disheveled, but the anger in his eyes had not subsided.
Linnea now faced both crying children and Aurelion.
"What is going on here?" She pointed to the other children. "Why are you crying?" she said, turning to the first bully, "what did you do?"
The bully tried to explain amidst sobs, pointing at Aurelion. "He… Hit… With block…"
Linnea turned to Aurelion, frowning. "Did you hit him?"
Aurelion remained silent. He tilted his head up slightly and looked directly into Linnea's eyes. Linnea was used to this attitude but still sighed.
This time, she turned to the chubby child. "What happened to you?" The chubby child, crying even harder, also pointed at Aurelion. "He… hit me too…"
Linnea's frown deepened as she turned back to Aurelion. "Did you hit both of them? Why?"
Her voice had risen an octave. Her disciplined, polite demeanor remained, but the steel like will beneath was palpable.
Even Aurelion felt this pressure. He wasn't afraid, no. But Linnea's authority was different. He knew opposing her now was pointless, but he didn't want to submit either. He just remained silent, looking at her without averting his gaze.
Even this silent resistance tested Linnea's patience. "Aren't you going to speak?" Linnea asked.
Just as she was about to grab Aurelion by the arm… The door burst open, and a breathless servant rushed in, her face a mixture of joy and shock. "Mistress Linnea! Mistress Linnea!" she shouted. "Did you hear?"
Linnea immediately turned her attention to the servant. "What happened? Calm down."
The servant took a deep breath. "News just came! Just now! The bells outside… The invaders… They've retreated! They say the war is over!"
A moment of silence. All noise in the hall was cut short. Linnea's eyes widened in astonishment. . "Are you sure? Where did you hear this?"
"The guards were shouting! Everyone has poured into the streets! They say it's over, really over!"
At that moment, the orphanage erupted. Other caregivers screamed with joy. Older children, though not fully understanding, joined the general jubilation. Even Linnea dropped her professional mask for a moment.
The tension from moments ago was forgotten. Aurelion stood amidst all this chaos. While waiting to be disciplined, everyone's focus had shifted. "The war is over…" he repeated inwardly. These words were heavy, important. So the hell his mother had been forced to leave had ended. But what would change for him here, within these stone walls?
These people's joy, their tears… What did they mean to him? He turned his attention back to Linnea. She had quickly composed herself and was giving instructions.
The end of the war… Perhaps a new beginning for him. Or… a new kind of prison. The only thing certain was that the world had changed. He would have to adapt.
Evening had fallen. The daytime jubilation had given way to suppressed sadness and a quiet hustle. A few older children were being pulled aside by caregivers.
Tonight, there would be a funeral in the city square.
"It was necessary," Aurelion thought, watching them. "Linnea whispered to a caregiver that the young ones needed to see the losses, understand war's cost, and learn to be stronger..." How barbaric and pragmatic. But also understandable.
He himself didn't care about this sadness or the ceremony's supposed 'meaning.' Who died or remained was unimportant. What mattered was that this ceremony was an opportunity to get out of the orphanage, see the city differently, and observe what was happening in this world where the war was said to be over.
With this thought, he got up and turned into the corridor leading to Linnea's office.
Linnea was there. Aurelion stood in the doorway. "Linnea?"
The woman raised her head. "Yes, Aurelion?"
"Go," Aurelion said, trying to gesture outside. "Me… funeral… Outside."
Linnea's expression hardened. "No, Aurelion," she said firmly. "That's not a suitable place for young children. Besides..." she paused, remembering the afternoon's chaos. "You've caused enough trouble today. I haven't forgotten that fight. We'll talk later. Now go and join the others."
Rejected. This woman! Always an obstacle! Just as he was about to turn and walk away, grumbling, he heard heavy footsteps from the end of the corridor.
A familiar, imposing silhouette appeared in the doorway, but it was different. His long, dark hair, usually falling to his shoulders, was messier, with a few white strands at his temples. His beard was the same, but his face was pale, his eyes tired. His right arm was secured with thick bandages against his chest. He seemed to drag his left leg slightly.
"Roric..." Aurelion thought. "Where has he been? Maybe three months... So that's why."
Linnea stood up in surprise. "Captain Roric! What are you doing here? You shouldn't be in this state..."
Roric stepped inside. "I'm fine, Linnea. The War Chieftain wanted everyone there. You should prepare." His gaze flickered to Aurelion in the doorway. Linnea also looked at Aurelion, then turned to Roric, lowering her voice.
They spoke quietly for a few seconds, too low for Aurelion to hear.
After a short while, Roric came out and now looked directly at Aurelion. "Alright, little troublemaker," he grumbled. "Looks like you're coming with me."
Aurelion looked at him in surprise. Had Linnea given permission? Was it thanks to Roric? The reason didn't matter. He had succeeded!
Roric, carefully protecting his injured arm, picked Aurelion up with his good one. "Don't move too much, or we'll both fall," he muttered, then turned and walked towards the orphanage door, out into the cold and sorrowful night.
The world outside the orphanage walls was much sharper than the muffled sadness within. The city square was filled with people. There was no trace of the daytime's sudden, explosive joy. Now, heavy, almost tangible grief and exhaustion hung in the air.
Roric moved through the crowd with heavy steps. Finally, they reached a spot closer to the center, in the area illuminated by fires. And Aurelion saw. Bodies, covered with rough cloths, laid side by side on the ground… so many.
Roric paused, holding Aurelion tighter. Some cloths had been pulled back, and Aurelion encountered sights more horrific than he had ever seen.
Clearly, these were the 'recovered' bodies, but even the 'intact' ones were terrifying. Half of one body was missing, as if torn off by something enormous. Another had three deep claw marks on its chest, too large for a human. Yet another was riddled with holes, as if it had exploded from within. Black, charcoal-like burn marks, strange discolorations…
"These… are not normal wounds," Aurelion thought.
Roric seemed to notice Aurelion. He slowly took another step, stopping before one in particular.
Borin. He was laid there with a simple tunic. A deep, wide wound was in the center of his chest, between his ribs, as if a massive, smooth sword had been plunged there and then pulled out.
Roric silently looked at his companion's face for a moment, then turned to the child in his arms. He seemed to choose his words carefully, struggling to explain it. "This is Borin, Aurelion," he murmured. "One of those who found you… you probably don't remember. He was a good, brave warrior."
He paused. "He faced… a very strong enemy. Borin wasn't afraid. He fought until the very end." He looked at Aurelion again. "He was a warrior… and died as befits a warrior's honor. I don't know if you understand, but… that's what matters."
Aurelion focused more on Roric's expression, the pain he tried to hide, than on his words.
He understood "strong enemy," "died." But 'honor'… It still seemed meaningless. Death was death. There are no honorable or dishonorable death.
Still, Roric's explanation was a perfect opportunity to gather information.
He lifted his head, looking directly into Roric's tired eyes. "Enemy?"
Roric, nodded. "Yes, enemy."
"Who?"
"Bad men," Roric said simply.
Aurelion frowned. "Bad men… Who?"
Roric sighed. "We don't know, child. They came from the sky. Invaders."
"Came from the sky?" Aurelion etched this into his mind. This was new. "Why come?"
"We don't know," Roric repeated. His patience seemed to wear thin. But these were different from a simple child's curiosity.
Linnea's words came to Roric's mind. He understood now. "Well," Roric continued, as if wanting to change the subject, "Linnea said you got into trouble again today. Is that true? You fought."
Aurelion paused, then nodded slightly, not answering. That fight was insignificant. What mattered now were these 'Invaders.'
He opened his mouth to ask again when… A powerful voice rose from the square's other end, from a raised platform. Everyone fell silent, heads turning.
There stood War Chieftain Silverfang, Sage Ulfar and others beside him.
He signaled. Soldiers with torches stepped forward, straightened the cloths over the bodies, and slowly poured flammable oil beside them.
With another signal, they brought torches close. Flames quickly flared. A sharp smell of burning flesh filled the air. No one spoke. Only the crackling flames and whistling wind could be heard.
A respectful, sorrowful silence fell. For about ten minutes.
Finally, when the flames had subsided a bit, the War Chieftain stepped forward. His voice was powerful enough to fill the entire square. "Northerners!"
"Today… we ended the war! Not just us, but the whole world, with unimaginable sacrifices, has ripped those dark ships from our skies, those cursed invaders from our lands!"
A faint murmur of approval rose but quickly died down. "But this is not a night of celebration!" The War Chieftain's voice hardened, gesturing towards the embers. "This is the price we paid! Look! Look and do not forget! Victory's price was heavy! Our cities burned, we lost brothers, children, wives!"
His eyes scanned the crowd. "Yes, as the North, perhaps we resisted better. These walls stood, our Sages guided us, and these lands were on our side, as if rejecting the invader! But still… it was a terrible victory! And I tell you. This is NOT an end! The invaders have retreated, yes. But they are not completely gone. They will come again. This war has taught us a bitter lesson: Weakness is death! To be unprepared is to be annihilated!"
His voice rose even higher. "Therefore, from this day forward, everything will change! No room for complacency! Every one of you MUST become stronger! Our children will be trained like warriors! Weakness will not be tolerated! Talents will be discovered, limits pushed! Because next time… we will be prepared! Next time, THE NORTH will be stronger!"
Aurelion had listened to all of this in Roric's arms. The War Chieftain's words, the expressions of the people, the burning fires… His mind worked rapidly. To become stronger… Compulsory training… No tolerance for weakness… What did this mean for him?
Perhaps… this new world was closer to what he desired. A place where control and power were everything. Perhaps this orphanage was a shorter stop than he thought. His eyes locked onto the War Chieftain's imposing silhouette in the distance. Interesting… Very interesting.