A few years had passed, with Erik now being at the age of seven. The manor's library was filled to the brim with books. There was a seating area with comfortable chairs at the center of the room, atop a carpet of green, and a fireplace surrounded by brick and shielded by panes of glass center of the east wall. The only windows shone light down the stretches of shelves from the north, and there, upon the floor, just beneath the sun's rays, sat Erik with books stacked at his feet.
He read each word with darted eyes, from one line to the next beneath, with a turn of the page to the next. He had read eleven books already, each one thick, and in no way, written for children his age. They were void of any illustrations, filled to the brim with words, with many being of unknown definitions. His curiosity and drive to learn were beyond ordinary children.
"Nomay, what does this word mean?" he asked, pointing to the page.
Upon closer look, Nomay would be taken aback, becoming flustered as the tips of her ears turned red. "My, my..." she uttered, darting her eyes away. "Young master, that is... A word you are much too young to hear."
"What about this one?" he pointed to another.
Sheepishly, Nomay peaked to see what he pointed to, though she was still reeling from the first shock, this one she simply did not know. "I am afraid, I do not know, young master. There are many words of High-Common that I simply would not know. Perhaps your father would be inclined to hiring you an instructor to teach you."
With the Chamber family's wealth and connections, it was a simple task finding an instructor, but finding one who was trustworthy, required exactly the kind of influence Lord Vindor possessed. With a letter alone, sent to the Scholar's Guild in Novergracia, his request for a fitting instructor to teach his son, would reach the hands of the higherups, whereas the letters of lower standing houses would be ignored, as the Scholar's Guild had a reputation for being rather prude, when it came to noble houses. They often disregarded nobles, for their lack of knowledge and education, which was seconded to prowess and ability in the magical arts. However, one look at the seal on the letter, and even the master of the Scholar's Guild would consider the request.
"Hm... Send for Godfrey." A deep and calm voice ordered.
Ben Godfrey was a man in his forties, who often had a careless, if not hateful expression and a lack of proper wear. He lacked manners and tact, known to possess an enormous ego and a smart mouth, and yet, he was a scholar by talent that could not be denied, a mind comparable to the greatest.
"You called for me, Guild Master?"
"Indeed, I did" the Guild Master stroked his long, grey beard, lifting his eyes off the work on his desk to look Godfrey in the eyes. "I received a letter today, from Lord Vindor Chamber." he slid the letter forward, the stamped wax of the Chamber household, clearly displayed. "He requests an instructor to teach his four year old son, claiming that the boy is a natural born genius, that, as he so boldly states in writing, any great scholar would jump at the opportunity to claim the to-be fame, of having taught son, as he believes the child will certainly be great in the future, if nurtured accordingly."
Godfrey couldn't help but snark. "Everyone one of these noblemen say that about their child, but they all end up being disappointments in the end. An affair here, a scandal there, surely, with all due respect, Guild Master, you do not expect me to answer this request."
"Lord Vindor Chamber holds an impeccable reputation, and is married to Count Henry Codux's daughter. If Henry Codux were to put in such a request, we would answer it all the same, and to be related to him, I am certain the boy is gifted with intelligence. Now, I know you are bothered by the responsibility of being given this task, but you will, go to Finefield, and you will, teach this young boy to the utmost of your ability. Do you understand?"
Though unhappy with the decision, Godfrey would accept. "Yes, Guild Master. I shall teach the boy."
Within the day, Ben Godfrey would set out to Finefield. He would read over the request's instructions as he rode in the carriage, seeing that he was expected to teach in a many manor of subjects. "Math, Speech, History, Philosophy? No wonder I was given this request, no other scholar would be able to teach such a wide range of subjects."
He arrived that afternoon, and with an annoyed grunt, he pulled at his luggage as he made his way up the stairs to the front door. He lifted the iron ring knocker and let it fall with a hollow thud. Eventually, the door opened, and the butler stood in greeting him. "Welcome, may I inquire as to your identity, good sir?"
"Ben Godfrey, of the Scholar's Guild."
Godfrey wore a rough, dark coat, and a fedora that Nomay took from his as he entered into the library. She followed behind him, placing it on the head of the seat as he sat down, right across from the dark haired boy who was deep into a book.
"Young Master, this is your new instructor, from the Scholar's Guild."
Erik lifted his eyes, glancing at the man who leered back. Shutting his book, he placed it down on the table beside his seat, just as Godfrey introduced himself.
"I am Scholar Godfrey, your new instructor."
"Can you teach me magic?" Erik immediately asked, much to the immediate displeasure of Godfrey.
"Magic?" he clicked his tongue, his face, wrinkled in a scowl. "No, I will not. I am a Scholar, not a magician. We will first begin with simple math. Quickly, maid, bring me some parchment and ink."
"Ah, yes. Right away." Nomay rushed off.
"Now then, let me tell you, child." Godfrey began. "Magic, is nothing without the mind. It is a gift, I shall give it that, but magical gifts, physical prowess, bartering skills, nor pointful precision, can compare to the wealthily intelligent. The man who knows all is the wealthiest, for he knows how to farm, while others beg. Never forget this."
Godfrey was to be Erik's guardian, and he his ward. He instructed him on language and speech, mathematics and history, even philosophy, one that was a shade different from his grandfather's teachings. Godfrey's outlook on the world was far darker and more laid back. His teaching style was not to babysit young Erik, but to explain how things were as though he were as capable a mind as he, which only proved how intelligent Erik was, as the child did not fail to keep up with his guardian's teachings.
Godfrey taught Erik everything that he could, taking upon the child he had once considered to be just another nobleman's child, doted on by blinded parents, and truly considering him to be his ward.
He would impart his own cautious teachings with the voice of a noble slouch, "Be careful of those who smile, child. The world is logical, math and physics make up everything, even the insanity of man, and those who smile, do so for a reason; whether it is enjoyment from watching you suffer, or ignorance."
Erik's days were spent studying with his head buried in books, and a pen, glued to his fingers. He was learning at a tremendous pace, studying day after day under the tutelage of Scholar Godfrey.
By the fall season, he would be taken out to go hunting with his father and brother, learning more about traps and hunting prey. The first night, the men would return with game in the form of a large antlered buck to feast, with the antlers being sawed off to become a trophy. The meat would be cut and stewed, and the pelt would be panned in house by Vindor himself. Erik would watch his father at work, curiously paying attention at his knifework.
His father laughed upon seeing Erik's focused face.
His father took him and his sister into the city the next morning to sell the pelt. The long carriage ride into the city was far from comfortable, making the long ride even longer in comparison to the brief moment they were there. The city of Novergracia, Highland's capital and the city of guilds, as it was called. It of course had the Scholars Guild, but it also had many others: the Knights Guild, Mages Guild, Hunters Guild, the Clergy, Carpenters Guild, and so on.
The city was sprawling with mostly man, but occasionally, one would make out the distant foreigner by their pointed ears or stature. The realm of man was not so inviting to the other races, but those who resembled them more often than not, were allowed into settlements without discrimination.
In the carriage ride back home, they passed through the city square, a large and busy section encircled by temple like buildings on the edges, one of which had a large, robed figure of stone, standing at the entrance and between two stair cases that circled both sides onto the elevation. The statue was well crafted out of a white stone, with the robed figure holding a stave, adorned with a large crystal at its top. The crystal was actually the only part of the statue that was not made from the same material as the rest, even glowing blue.
"Father, what is that?" Erik asked, his face pressed against the window.
"Hm?" Vindor turned his head. "Ah, the Mages Guild. That is the Archmage, Cadius Vermillion. He was a very powerful magic caster from long ago."
"What about that light?"
"Light?"
"Yes, the blue light in the rock."
Vindor looked out the window, his eyes darting with each blink as he looked for the light. "I am afraid I do not see what you do, Erik."
"I don't either." said Noesse.
Erik was uncertain of how to speak any further, unsure of what he saw or why they did not.
Upon their return home, Vindor was gleeful to round up the many estate's workers to show off a new toy he'd purchased in the city. They gathered outside at the entrance of the estate where Vindor revealed a long, wooden barreled weapon. It was the earliest invention of the rifle, still in the early stages of development. It had a long reload time, with terrible accuracy, difficult to hold steady, a short range due to the weak material of the pellet, and was subject to destroying itself. Still, Vindor, after a few minutes of trying to load the weapon, fired it once in excitement before the whole family and staff. He aimed at a plant of wood, pulling the trigger and igniting a loud explosion that seemed to deafen those closest to the firing. Birds in a nearby tree were frightened, but the crowd clapped in excitement.
Vindor laughed as he and a few other men ran to the board to see the damage. They found the pellet had been shattered, leaving two holes relatively close together in the wood. "Fascinating!!"
Some weeks later, they would attempt another hunt, a means to find pleasure in the otherwise dull passing of time.
The stable hand finished securing the straps on the lone estate horse—its packs filled with rope, blankets, and provisions. He stepped over to Nomay just as she finished straightening the collar of Erik's coat. The two exchanged a warm smile and a few quiet words. Erik watched them closely, unable to decipher why they looked at each other that way.
"Come on, Erik." Oliver caught his sleeve and pulled him away before he could stare any longer. "We're leaving."
Vindor stood at the front of the small hunting party, joined by four estate guards in leather and mail. The packhorse was brought forward, led by one of the men. Erik and Oliver fell in beside their father, each flanked by a guard for safety.
They set off from the estate and rode through the open fields, the packhorse trailing behind the men until the forest loomed. After some time, Vindor lifted his hand.
"We camp here."
The guards dismounted first, forming a perimeter while unpacking the horse. They set down the gear—bundles of firewood, blankets, and a small iron pot—before tying the horse to a low branch. Two guards remained with it, standing watch.
Vindor pointed toward the deeper trees. "From here, we go on foot."
He took the lead, two guards following behind. Oliver nudged Erik forward, keeping him between the men for protection.
"Stay close," Oliver murmured.
They found nothing for a long while. The forest was quiet—too quiet—and each snapped twig beneath their boots echoed more loudly than it should have. Vindor raised his hand several times, listening, but no game stirred. Eventually, he exhaled in mild frustration.
"We will scout farther in," he said.
The guards shifted formation, and the group pressed deeper through the undergrowth. After several minutes, a low growl finally broke the stillness.
Ahead, a lone wolf stood in a patch of clearing, its fur bristling, its stance tense but unmoving. It did not advance, nor did it flee.
Vindor narrowed his eyes. "Wolves don't wander alone," he muttered.
Despite the unease that tightened his jaw, he slid the long-barreled rifle off his shoulder and motioned for the boys to stay behind him. One of the guards stepped forward with powder and pellet, helping him reload, as the weapon was still too new and fickle for smooth handling.
Once loaded, Vindor took aim. The wolf held its ground, staring directly at them. The rifle thundered, a burst of smoke clouding the air. When the haze drifted, the wolf lay collapsed in the brush.
"Come," Vindor ordered.
They approached carefully, the guards checking the treeline for movement. As they drew near the carcass, Vindor crouched, studying the wolf's body. Fresh milk clung to its underside.
The realization struck at once.
"It was guarding something."
A soft whimpering came from beyond the ridge of roots behind the clearing. The group moved around the fallen tree, and there, concealed beneath a hollow in the earth, lay a den. Inside, a female wolf lay collapsed, her breaths shallow and fading—torn by some earlier struggle. Against her belly were newborn pups.
Vindor exhaled heavily, lowering the rifle. "So that was why he stood alone. Well, there is no point killing the mother or its pups. We take the corpse back and call it a day." he ordered, thinking for a moment before reaching into the den to the mother's unwelcoming, but faint growl, and taking one of the newborns. "Lets make trail."
Upon their return to the estate, they were welcomed back by Celia and a handful of servants. Celia was less than pleased at the sight of the animal being carried on the horses back, a disappointed look upon her face. "Now, now, dear." Vindor began. "It was a good hunt! Its pelt will make a fine trophy, and also, look I brought back a gift!"
"A gift?"
"Yes. We came across a litter of pups. The eldest two both have dogs, I thought this one might be a good pet for Erik." he showed her the wolf pup in a satchel.
"My lord. It is a wolf, not a dog."
"They are all the same. It is young enough that it can be raised."
"I see. Well, if that is what you have decided, then all right. Come inside and wash up for dinner. We stewed geese."