For most people, the Cardinal Heroes represented unreachable figures. Almost god-like. Fantasy.
Morgan knew better. He and his cousins were related to two of them.
Instead of bothering him, the legend of the Silver Eyes secretly amused him. People had embellished the story so much, it was ridiculous.
Especially in his father’s case. People called Lord Elvran Selbair the Blood-Hawk, and pictured him like this charismatic warrior, while in reality, the man was as stiff as a board and grim as the darkest night. A strong fighter indeed, even at his mature age, but not what the young boys wanting to be knights and adventurers imagined.
Given his title, some versions of the legend mentioned him having a pet hawk. Another lie. His nickname was probably just a mocking reference to the red on their House blaze and the man’s bird-like nose. It would explain why he hated that title so much.
With his uncle occurred pretty much the opposite. As a magus dwelling on non-elemental magic, people believed Sigmund -the Spell-Bringer- to be a shady and mysterious individual. Instead, he was a kind and introverted man, who liked his privacy and probably had his secrets. However, he was still a sincere person.
About the two remaining Heroes, neither Morgan nor his cousins had met them in person, so they only had other people’s stories to try to make sense of them.
As one could expect, his father’s opinion wasn’t particularly positive, calling the Shadow-Robber an opportunistic imbecile and the Eternal-Light a naive fool.
However, his uncle’s opinion was quite different.
Morgan still remembered the conversation they had four years ago when he was twelve.
He first asked him about the Shadow-Robber.
“His name is Arsen,” said Sigmund.
“Just Arsen…? No House name?”
“None. Arsen didn’t come from a noble family. When we travelled to Oris, he was already a seasoned mercenary, while the rest of us were just four or five years older than you and Bertrand. So his responsibility was to protect our backs.”
“I see, so he was a mercenary.”
It would explain Father’s dismissive attitude.
“Yes. But don’t underestimate him. Arsen possessed a sharp mind both in and out of battle. He even showed some promise as a magus, if only he had been more interested in developing that talent… Anyway, his skills made him a great ally but it was unwanted luck that put him in his situation.”
“Can luck be unwanted?”
Sigmund smiled. “It can be. Arsen wasn’t an ambitious person. He didn’t want the fame he got after our success. But besides his abilities, he was the only person in the world that knew what we were going against.”
Morgan tried to make sense of that statement. “Wait, he was the soldier from the legend, right? The one who encountered the Silver Eyes and survived.”
“Exactly.” Sigmund nodded. “He was one of the reasons we even had a fighting chance in the first place.” He smiled in remembrance.
He is happy to talk about his old comrade but then, why doesn’t he do it more often?
“Uncle, you have been talking about him in the past-tense for a while.”
“Hmm…? Oh! Don’t misunderstand me, Arsen is alive.” He made a pause. “I think… To say the truth, I haven’t seen him in years. I just hope he is okay. He saved my life so many times and I never had the chance to repay him. Maybe with some of that wine he liked so much.” He chuckled
“What about the Eternal-Light?” His question made Sigmund flinch.
The man took a moment to collect his thoughts. “She was an amazing person. Smart and strong-willed. And despite that, she was also modest and lively, just the type of person anyone would get along with.”
Anyone but Father, apparently.
But Morgan didn’t focus on that, he was curious about the melancholy and sadness in Sigmund’s eyes as he spoke about the elf woman.
“What was her name, uncle?”
“Romelia Altorossa.”
“That’s a beautiful name.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Morgan tried to make the question that was in his mind, but his voice failed him.
“She died,” Sigmund said, unable to hide the pain in his expression. “Thirteen years ago. You hadn’t been born yet.”
“Sorry for asking.” He lowered his head.
The man shook his head. “No, it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with being curious. Curiosity can lead you to greatness. So don’t worry about me, Morgan. If you have another question, go on and ask it.”
Morgan didn’t want to upset Sigmund further, but there was indeed an important question he needed to make.
“Actually, I do have another question. It’s about the Silver Eyes. What happened when you fought him? How did you win, uncle?” Despite how important the victory over the Silver Eyes was for House Selbair’s prestige, his father never mentioned it. Morgan’s single attempt to get info out from the man failed catastrophically.
Sigmund grimaced. “That’s a difficult one, Morgan.”
Okay, he thought, at least he didn’t outright snap like Father.
“Why?”
“Some things are better left in obscurity… That’s the reason there are so many myths around our fight against the Silver Eyes. We promised to never speak of what truly happened that day, so people tried to fill the holes with their own theories.”
“Uncle, it’s fine if you can’t tell me everything. I know I’m being pushy here, but I just want to understand at least a little what really occurred. Because I know it’s a difficult topic for my father too.”
With reluctance, Sigmund sighed. “It wasn’t a glorious victory as everyone believes. We simply survived… He was too strong, toyed with us all along. We only defeated him because he didn’t take us seriously. So it doesn’t surprise me if your father doesn’t talk about it as a victory. I don’t think it was either.” Sigmund’s expression was heart-wrenching and Morgan couldn’t begin to understand the reason.
He didn’t ask more questions about it. Actually, after that, Morgan didn’t ask his uncle about his past ever again.
Back to the present, it had been a perfect day for Morgan.
They ate roast duck with potatoes, his favourite dish, for breakfast. The weather was nice so he went to train his sword skills.
He felt with great energy, hitting the target-dummy harder and faster than before. Feeling unstoppable, as if nothing could go wrong for him.
Then a maid, Mary, approached him. “Young Morgan, Lord Basthed requires you in his study.”
What could it be? Morgan blinked with curiosity.
“Did he mention why…?”
“Sorry, but he didn’t. It seemed important, though.”
“Ah. I see,” he muttered. “Thanks, Mary.” The woman bowed and continued on her way.
Not wanting to make his uncle wait for him, he put his equipment away and rushed to meet with him.
There were two places where Sigmund spent enough time to call them his studies.
The first was the only room on the fourth and last floor of the castle. There, he took care of all his duties as Lord of Onder.
However, there was also the Light Tower; a building made of white marble situated beside the castle and considered Onder’s most impressive piece of architecture. According to Sigmund, it was for practising his magic. His workshop, as he called it. So for the safety of his family and everyone else, only Sigmund was allowed inside. All Bertrand’s attempts to break in had proved fruitless.
So, knowing it could only be the first one, Morgan walked up the stairs to the fourth floor and knocked on the only door.
“Come in,” answered Sigmund.
When Morgan stepped inside, he noticed Sigmund wasn’t the only person waiting for him, Seras was also in the room.
“Uncle. Aunt.” He gave them a nod. They stared at him, looking uncomfortable. “What is it?”
“A letter arrived for you, Morgan.” The man extended it to him. A red-letter.
It looked familiar.
As Morgan grabbed it, he noticed a similar-looking letter over his uncle’s desk, already opened.
In that instant, Morgan instinctively understood the situation. With trembling hands, he took out the message and read it.
‘To Morgan,
the time arrived for you to return home and take your place beside your brother.
To the moment you receive this letter, we should be at only two days of travel from Onder.
We’ll stay until the new year. Then you shall return to Rover along with us, so you can put your sword back to where it always belonged.
From your father, Lord Elvran Selbair.’
A sense of vertigo invaded Morgan as panic slowly overwhelmed him.
After years of happiness and calm, living with his relatives, that letter made him remember something important he had forgotten: Some people had no power over their lives.
