Before leaving the infirmary, Valar needed to check out. The instant he realized that, he started dreading the price. Viktor noticed his apparent distress and chuckled.

  “You don’t have to worry about the price Valar. I’m sponsoring you to the academy and that includes any costs associated with that. You can’t very well go to the academy without leaving the infirmary first, can you?”

  Valar was speechless. He had at least an inkling on how much visiting the infirmary cost, even a simple checkup costing a couple of silver coins, and the healing operation had taken the whole day. It could cost tens of silver, maybe even a couple gold…

  Valar and others hadn’t been taught much on currency or prices in the orphanage, as that was usually the foster parents job after adoption. However, despite his clear lack of foster parents, he still knew that a silver was one hundred copper and a gold one hundred silver. Apparently a basic job in the city—anything from a baker to a carpenter—earned sixteen silver per month or just under two gold per year.

  That made going to an infirmary an expensive affair for a normal family, usually costing almost a third of their monthly paycheck. Adventurers and mages earned significantly more, so it wasn’t that major of a cost, but the infirmary was known as a pricy institution by all.

  Valar dreaded asking it, but he still wanted to know how much gold Viktor was actually spending on him. He defaulted to the formal speech pattern drilled into him by the matron, not even noticing his refined language. “How much did the operation cost, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Viktor continued smiling as he pulled out a paper from his coat pocket. He gave it to Valar, the document being a cost breakdown of Valar’s healing.

  “Oh… Can you read? I forgot to ask and just gave the document to you,” Viktor asked sheepishly.

  “I can read, but I’m really slow at it. The orphanage didn’t have any books, so my only experience comes from the lessons the matron gave us,” Valar answered the question distractedly, not noticing Viktor’s aghast expression.

  Valar focused on the paper, his face going paler with each line. 1 gold and 60 silver for just the healer’s time, 44 silver for the usage of the operation room, 16 silver for the recovery and… What?

  Valar stared at the paper's bottom, eyes wide from shock. 9 gold and 32 silver for the prepared spells used to heal the patient. Total price 11 gold and 56 silver.

  “This is over five times a worker’s yearly salary.” Valar muttered in confusion.

  “And still less than a tenth of the cost of getting you to the academy—if you don’t get a scholarship that is,” Viktor said. “I’m willing to invest in you Valar. You have awakened a rare affinity at an incredibly young age. Even that makes you almost worth sponsoring. I’m taking a risk on your other… talent, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

  Valar handed back the paper to Viktor wordlessly, as he really didn’t know what to say. The number on that paper even managed to elicit a small reaction from his soul, and his face twisted into a pained frown. Viktor’s brows scrunched in worry, but he didn’t ask Valar about his apparent distress. The pain passed quickly, however, and both men breathed out in relief.

  “By the way, don’t tell anyone about my rank. I’m kind of undercover, so if anyone asks, answer that you don’t know,” Viktor instructed.

  Valar nodded. He didn’t want to leak other’s secrets—especially when they had helped him. Viktor had been nothing but kind. He wouldn’t reward the man’s kindness with deceit.

  Valar had to admit to himself that he had trusted Viktor too easily... The man had turned out trustworthy, at least to Valar, but the unconditional trust he had given to the mage had been too sudden.

  Can I blame myself though? He’s maybe the first person in years that treats me like an actual human. He’s even getting me to the academy, and that’s something I couldn’t even dream about before meeting him! I do need to be more careful about people though. There are bad people everywhere, and I don’t need them dissecting me in some dungeon… No using fire powers without Viktor’s say so. That way I’ll be safe, and have a chance to learn about my life affinity too.

  The two men reached the end of the corridor, arriving at the front desk of the infirmary. “Good day Angela. Young Valar here would like to check out of the infirmary, and I’m paying his check,” Viktor spoke to the young woman with a polite smile on his face.

  “Of course,” The healer, maybe eighteen or nineteen years of age, turned to Valar. “Good morning Valar, you look a lot better than when you came in.” Angela giggled to herself, blushing afterwards. “I apologize, that was not very nice of me. Long night shift on call,” she explained. “You have been cleared to leave the infirmary after you wake up. I just need your signature here, and Viktor’s here.”

  The healer handed the men papers, Valar needing to confirm that he felt healthy and didn’t have any side effects from the healing process. He signed it with a pen on the desk. His signature was very basic, as one could have expected from a thirteen-year-old boy who could barely even read.

  Viktor signed his document, his signature well thought out and written with his own pen. He pulled out the exact amount of gold and silver from his coat pocket—the same he pulled the document from—and handed them to Angela.

  “Everything seems to check out. Thank you for visiting the East Lyndale Infirmary. We hope that you don't have to come again soon!” Angela said her goodbyes, already back to her paperwork when Viktor and Valar walked out of the infirmary.

  Valar yelled a thanks back from the doorway, the healer waving back lazily, more interested in her mountain of paperwork than the boy leaving through the doors. He was in the past, but her paperwork certainly wasn’t…

  As they stepped out from the infirmary, they emerged into a busy street filled with shops, people and everything else that Valar had never had the chance to look at. While they weren’t at the very heart of the city, the eastern infirmary was by no means at the edge of the city. It was an institution of wealth, and its placement reflected that—even if it wasn’t in the very city center.

  The sun was shining, its rays reflecting off the small pools of water on the street. Apparently last night had been a rainy one. Well this one isn’t, that’s for sure!

  There were some terraces on the side of buildings, people in fine clothes drinking tea and eating pastries—soft laughter and conversation filling the street with the sound of merriment and regular life. Wagons rolled on among the people, carrying around cargo for different enterprises, but their sounds were subdued due to the excellent quality of the street itself. It was smooth, if not overly so, so the wheels of passing wagons didn’t let out the same sounds Valar had gotten used to laying against the orphanage wall. Everything was new and exciting, making it hard to pick one thing to focus on. He wanted to see it all!

  Viktor looked on as Valar’s gaze jumped from building to building, person to person. “I’m guessing they didn’t let you out of the orphanage much, did they?”

  “I’ve left the orphanage once in the ten years I’ve been there, and that was an infirmary visit,” Valar answered distractedly, still looking around the city.

  “Well, you have a lot to discover then! Would you like to get clothes or ice cream first?”

  “What’s ice cream?”

  Viktor froze mid-step, turning his head slowly.

  “There wasn’t any ice cream at the orphanage? Cold sweet treat, creamy consistency with lots of sugar?” He asked his question in seeming disbelief.

  “Never heard of it. Some kids snuck some sweet buns in one time though. They were confiscated and the boys were punished harshly,” Valar explained matter-of-factly.

  “That bitch…”

  Valar and Viktor went clothes shopping first, because Viktor wanted to save the ice cream for after the orphanage. The visit would have apparently ruined his good mood from ice cream. Annoying stuff first, then I can taste this ice cream thing…

  Viktor led him to a shop that was a bit away from the others, but assured Valar that “This one is good”. When they entered the shop, Valar had to agree.

  There were robes, jackets, pants, tunics and everything that a well dressed person would ever want. Even more importantly, every single piece of clothing was of high quality.

  Viktor had told Valar that he would handle the purchases in Lyndale. That would change when they would eventually reach Rhondell and the academy. There, they would set up a bank account for Valar, so he could withdraw money from his allowance when he needed it. Until then, however, it would be Viktor who opened his purse strings when Valar needed something. Not like it will be any different when we reach the capital… He will still pay me an allowance, and I can’t imagine making any other money for a good while. How do people even make money in the first place, really?

  They ended up in the children’s section of the store, any adult clothes way too large for Valar’s frame. He was apparently the size of a 12-year-old, malnutrition having slowed down his physical development by at least one year, but he didn’t particularly care. He was getting actual clothes, after all.

  “We will get you a backpack and a few sets of travel clothes. Those should be used on the caravan and when just wandering the city,” Viktor explained. “I will also buy you a single set of fine clothing, meant for social gatherings and the like. I don’t suspect you will need it before going to the academy, but it’s better to be sure about these things.”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Frankly, even the travel clothes were of way better quality and make than any clothes Valar had ever worn. Leoria was a warm country, so the usual clothes were t-shirts, tunics, straight pants and a few pairs of shorts. They did buy a few long-sleeved shirts, however, as Valar didn’t want everyone to ogle at his arm all the time. They could of course still see the hand, but at least they wouldn’t see the whole burned arm. That was better than nothing.

  Viktor also got Valar underwear, socks and a pair of shoes, everything made of good quality fabrics and leathers. Valar didn’t understand why the man spent so much money on some simple clothes, but Viktor wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  “My personal sponsored student will not walk the streets in some rags. You need to look at least somewhat respectable,” Viktor scoffed. “You are younger than almost any awakened I know of, so people will judge you. We want people to notice that you are a talented young man, and not some poor orphan child.”

  “But I’m a poor orphan child?” Valar asked in confusion.

  “I know that, but others don’t have to. Come on, get dressed up. black baggy pants and a brown shirt would be nice I think.”

  Valar went and dressed up. It didn’t take much time, as the shirt went on easily despite the burns on his arm. Those have healed surprisingly well. I only feel a twinge of pain when moving my wrist, and even that is so small that it doesn’t matter. Lucky me…

  He needed a belt for the pants as he was skinnier than most children, but they fit well once he managed to get them on. Lastly, he put on his shoes, having learned to tie a bow in the orphanage. At least I learned something useful…

  The clothes felt amazing on his skin, the smooth fabrics and leather in stark contrast to the rags he had worn for his whole life. Usually the clothes used in the orphanage had been donations from families—used and abused and often full of holes.

  As Valar walked out of the dressing room, Viktor was throwing his old rags in the garbage, his face twisted in a frown. Valar had had a shirt from the infirmary on as his own had been ripped to shreds by the rat and panther. The shirt given by the infirmary was not meant for extended use, only meant for covering the patient’s privacy, so that was tossed away too. The pants from the orphanage had miraculously survived the beasts’ attacks, full of rips and tears but still usable. Viktor looked at them in disgust and tossed them to the garbage with the rest.

  The man smiled when he noticed Valar, beckoning him to the mirror. He looked at Valar appraisingly, then raised his thumb.

  Valar walked to the mirror slowly, a bit scared of what he was going to see. When he reached the mirror, he stopped in his tracks, just looking at his own reflection. He had not seen it in a long time...

  Valar was a short boy for his age, skinny to the point of his ribs showing through the thin shirt covering his body. His limbs were thin and he had an angular face with amber eyes. He had dark scruffy hair, some of it hanging in front of his eyes. His lips were thin and cheeks somewhat hollow.

  Even with the long-sleeved shirt, Valar had some visible scars on his right arm. The healing procedure had restored full movement to it, but his hand still had severe scarring from the burn. It reminded Valar about what had happened, and how much it hurt.

  Valar cringed as he looked at the scarring running up the arm. It showed clearly where the flame, his flame, had flowed through. The burn marks were way more noticeable than the scarring on his bicep, showing teeth marks from the panther. At least the shirt covered the marks somewhat, but the thin cloth couldn’t fully hide it. That would have required a thicker shirt, but that would have made him way too uncomfortable. Better this way, I guess…

  “At later ranks, you can possibly heal the scars away, but that’s something many years ahead,” Viktor’s voice was soft, careful to not offend the boy looking in the mirror.

  “I think I’ll keep these scars,” Valar answered. “The scars on my arm are a reminder of change, of freedom. The ones on my back I will heal when I can, as I will remember those lessons even if I don’t want to.”

  Valar retreated from the window and smiled at Viktor. The onyx adventurer smiled back. “Good. They show that you’re tough.”

  They didn’t spend a lot of time in the shop after picking out Valar’s clothes. After packing up and paying the proprietor, the two men stepped out back into the hustle and bustle of the city.

  “Ready to visit the guard? I suspect it won’t be a long visit, as we’ll just be informing them of your freedom,” Viktor suggested.

  “Sounds good to me. It’ll be a bit awkward though,” Valar said. “And really, thank you for all this. These clothes seem more expensive than all the clothes I’ve ever had put together… I don’t really see how I can pay this back.”

  The wind mage looked down at Valar, his eyes matching his hair.

  “Valar, you know my rank of advancement. That should make you understand that I’m wealthy,” Viktor said. He took a deep breath and continued.

  “You seem to be confused on why I am helping you so much. In addition to feeling sympathy for your situation, you are an investment. I see that you have potential, but suspect that it will be wasted without the academy. I seek to help this kingdom thrive, and you are a potential asset for it. That means I will help you, and hopefully gain knowledge for myself too.”

  Viktor grinned, his eyes turning back to green. “I’m a greedy man. You’ll figure out in time that every man and woman at my rank is the same.”

  Valar understood now—being a potential asset meant that the man had a motive beyond helping him. It was not pure charity.

  Strangely, that makes me feel better about Viktor. For his whole life, Valar had been a charity case housed by the orphanage. This mage seemed to see him as an investment instead of someone to pity, and it gave him confidence.

  Valar nodded to Viktor, and they continued. Their next stop was the barracks.

  Valar and Viktor walked through the city streets, their goal the eastern barracks of the guards. Walking through the city streets felt different. For the first time in his life, Valar seemed to fit in the population. People mostly ignored them, some throwing glances at Viktor as the man looked quite different than the people around them. Valar’s arm was disregarded completely since it was covered by his shirt, and even though someone could have spotted the scarring if they looked hard enough, no regular citygoer would be that attentive. They had business of their own, after all.

  They left the affluent neighborhood they had resided in and continued deeper into the eastern district of the city.

  The city’s look became more and more standardized as they progressed through the smooth stone street. While most of the houses had been mint green where they had just come from, Valar didn’t see even a single building with a different color scheme after a while of walking. The monochromatism was dreary and boring compared to the more affluent part of the city. The windows of the houses were much more simple, the house more practical than beautiful. It was a district built with the purpose of efficiency, not beauty.

  The terraces of the central district were replaced by inns and taverns, last night’s rowdy partygoers nursing drinks to combat their hangovers. Many were regular workmen while some were adventurers.

  The adventurers were easy to spot out, most carrying armor and weaponry with them. Some were in mage’s robes, valuing space for runes over tight fitting armor, and those were even easier to spot. Viktor glanced over at Valar, noticing him spying on the adventurers around the street.

  “Interested in the adventuring life? Many mages end up spending their life just like that,” Viktor asked. “I enjoyed my days as an adventurer immensely, even if the time was shorter than for most.”

  “Why did you stop living that life then? If you enjoyed it, wouldn’t you still be living that life?” Valar asked in turn.

  “I’m in a different phase of my life,” Viktor chuckled. “I would no longer fit in that environment, and finding challenges adventuring in the common sense would be hard. Don’t get me wrong, there are many beings I would not dare challenge, but why would I fight them in the first place?”

  “Have you killed a dragon?” Valar asked Viktor, his expression curious.

  Viktor started laughing. The laugh started as a small chuckle, slowly evolving to a booming laughter that echoed down the busy street. The mage bent over, trying to catch his breath. Some adventurers and workers looked at Viktor in confusion, giving the pair a wide berth.

  Viktor slowly gathered himself, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. Every time he tried to look at Valar, he burst out in laughter from the boy’s look.

  “What’s so funny?” Valar asked, his confusion rising.

  Viktor burst out laughing once again, apologizing to Valar while still laughing. Eventually he managed to gather himself and answer Valar’s question.

  “Valar, I would never, ever challenge a dragon,” Viktor explained, occasional chuckles still escaping him. “Thank you, truly. That was my first good laugh in months. Fight a dragon he says… No, you said kill, not fight!”

  Viktor laughed some more, at least managing to walk while chuckling. Valar’s gaze was still confused so Viktor explained the issue in two words.

  “Diamond rank.”

  “Oh… That’s that then. No killing dragons,” Valar answered, his skin paler than normal.

  Actual mythical beasts. We are lucky that they don’t seem to want to kill us then… Valar had heard about dragons by word of mouth, some of the other kids remembering stories about them.

  In those stories the hero always beat the evil dragon, rescuing the princess afterwards. That felt significantly less likely now that he had heard more about the beasts in question…

  The men continued strolling to the district, eventually arriving in front of the barracks. The building was imposing, made of stone like the other houses, but much bigger. It was not painted green, the guard preferring the grey color of stone to the mint green of the city.

  There was no door, the guard preferring an iron gate. It made the building seem like a castle, a strange sight in the city. There were two guards visible, one on each side of the gate. They were lightly armored, still retaining full mobility. Both wielded shortswords instead of the baton the guards used on petty criminals like pickpockets or orphanage escapees.

  Viktor walked up to the guards, a polite smile plastered on his face.

  “Good day gentlemen. My young friend over here is most likely still considered missing by your records, and we would like to clear his name,” Viktor took lead in the discussions, Valar not used to having actual conversations with them.

  “Does your young friend here have a name that we can check the records on?” One of the guards asked, a thirty something man with the clear aura of a bronze ranker.

  “His name is Valar. I would also say that your record probably has orders to take him back to the orphanage. That information is outdated.”

  Both of the guards turned their gazes to Valar, their eyes sharp.

  “And why would that information be outdated? We have standing orders to take him back to the orphanage—with force if it’s necessary,” The younger guard, iron rank by his aura, asked. I checked his aura by instinct just now, didn’t I? Neat.

  “I have awakened, so I’m no longer welcome,” Valar answered for himself, his tone flat.

  Both of the guards went silent, staring at Valar intensely. Their eyes glowed white for a brief moment, both of them staying silent for a while afterwards.

  “He really is awakened… Just barely, but yeah,” The younger guard muttered.

  “Life affinity at fucking thirteen?” The older one growled.

  “Language, guardsman Roberts!” A shout echoed from inside the compound. The guardsmens' faces paled considerably, and the younger glared at the older guard in annoyance.

  The guards opened the door promptly, explaining the needed procedure to clear Valar’s name. “Just walk straight after entering and you should find the front desk there. You should be free to go after just a few minutes,” The younger one explained, throwing glances behind his back. “Captain Steelheart will probably make us run laps for foul language.”

  “Let’s go in then. After that, we handle the orphanage,” Viktor led Valar in.

  They walked in, the gate slamming closed behind their backs.

  A large man, a head taller than even Viktor, was waiting patiently inside the compound. He grinned at Valar, the axe on his back almost as tall as the man himself.

  “So, you’re the kid my son and his party saved. My name’s Alistair Steelheart, and I’m a captain of the guard. Nice to meet you, Valar.”