Tbate - Knowledge is Power

Royal Twins

Arthur Leywin POV

Earlier just before the announcement I had met with an artificer by the name of Gideon. In the intricate dance of negation, I offered up the vault of arcane knowledge I had unearthed about the enigmatic continent across the seas. Accompanying this bounty were two resplendent phoenix pendants, heirlooms of mystical craftsmanship, capable of whisking their bearer from the jaws of cataclysmic peril in the blink of an eye. In exchange, I presented a relic from the annals of my former existence: meticulously rendered blueprints detailing the very sinews of an avant-garde vessel, an emblem of technological zenith.

This exchange wasn't a mere transaction; it bore the weight of revelation and revelation. A fervent hope resided within me that the inhabitants of the faraway realm bore no sinister intentions. Yet, a subtle disquiet murmured deep in my heart, hinting at veiled dangers unseen. Alongside my stalwart comrades, Elijah and Vincent, we embarked on an idyllic jaunt through the labyrinthine alleyways of Xyrus. Elijah's prodigal spree raised eyebrows, as though his purpose here lay not in the realm of utility but in the realm of extravagance.

As the corner turned, a tableau of disconcerting nature unfurled before our eyes. A posse of five adolescents, their countenances hardly past the cusp of youth, enacted a brutal onslaught upon a dwarf of our own tender vintage. A tempest of not only righteous fury but also protective instinct surged through me. Elijah, ever the impulsive, lunged forth to intervene, only to find his arcane prowess quelled by the city's prohibition on mana. The scarlet-maned ringleader executed a well practised choreography, outmanoeuvring Elijah and subjecting him to a volley of calculated blows. Could this assailant have foreseen Elijah's conjurer lineage, I wondered? Yet, logic fled in the face of excusability. The audacity of these transgressors, to defile one of my few bastions of companionship, ignited an inferno of indignation within.

As resolve surged through my veins, I advanced with purpose, a calculated undercurrent of bloodlust diffusing like an enigmatic mist—a tactile prelude to their grievous miscalculation. "This little game intrigues me as well," I proclaimed, fingers coiling around an unassuming wooden staff that serendipitously found its way into my grasp.

Yet, Vincent, his vigilance unyielding, interposed himself with unwavering authority. "Gentlemen, mayhaps it is prudent for all parties to sheathe their impulses and permit these youthful souls to tread their path unhindered," he proposed, a voice of reason counterbalancing the volatile milieu.

The ringmaster of the would-be assailants cackled, his lips twisting into a malevolent grin. "Haha! Behold, comrades! The venerable guardian fancies himself a bulwark for his comrade."

"Uncle Vincent..." My words lingered, tinged with a sombre timbre that resonated with an undercurrent of bloodlust not directed at the man who had become more than a family friend. Rather, it simmered in the depths of my gaze, a simmering testament to the nobles who, shrouded in privilege, dared to assault my friend.

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Vincent Helstea POV

"Uncle Vincent."

The boy who was only 11 years old said to me, had these words been spoken by anyone else, a worried emotion might have surged within me. Yet, the very ambiance he projected wove an alternate narrative. An aura of such gravitas, a weighty presence so profound that it dwarfed even the grandeur of royalty, emanated from this boy—its force akin to an insurmountable mountain pressing upon the senses. A spectacle of overwhelming sovereignty, an occurrence I hadn't encountered even in the august presence of reigning monarchs, seemed to engulf the surroundings. How had he managed to harness this unfathomable potency? It was a query that had haunted me ever since his innocent age of 9.