Five years had passed since the night Kael'Thar found the abandoned child in the depths of Eldryn.
Five years since Queen Lythariel lost her son beneath the moonlit sky.
Five years since fate quietly altered the course of the world.
Morning sunlight filtered through the small windows of a modest stone house located on the outskirts of Valdren. The city was already awake. Merchants shouted in the streets, blacksmiths hammered iron upon glowing anvils, and carts filled with goods rolled through the market square.
Inside the house, however, silence reigned.
A boy sat alone beside the fireplace.
His silver hair reflected the morning light, while his mismatched eyes moved carefully across the pages of a thick book resting on his lap. One eye was a brilliant blue, clear as a summer sky. The other possessed a deep violet hue that seemed to hide countless thoughts behind it.
Lucien.
At only five years old, he was already considered strange by nearly everyone who knew him.
Most children his age chased one another through the streets.
Most children laughed loudly, cried easily, and lost interest after a few minutes of concentration.
Lucien was not like most children.
He rarely spoke without purpose.
Rarely acted without thinking.
And whenever he asked a question, it usually left adults wondering whether they were speaking to a child at all.
A page turned.
Then another.
Across the room, Kael'Thar sat in an old wooden chair near the window. A massive book rested in his hands, its cover marked by symbols forgotten by modern civilizations.
Without looking away from the text, he spoke.
"You've read that page three times."
Lucien blinked.
Then glanced down.
"...Four times."
A faint smile appeared on Kael'Thar's face.
"Then why haven't you turned it?"
Lucien remained silent for several moments.
"I don't understand something."
"Which part?"
"The king."
Kael'Thar finally looked up from his book.
"The king?"
Lucien nodded.
The book he was reading was a historical account of an ancient human kingdom.
"He conquered three neighboring nations."
"Yes."
"He already had more land than he could govern."
"Correct."
"He already had more wealth than he could spend."
"Also correct."
Lucien frowned.
"Then why did he continue?"
The question lingered in the room.
Kael'Thar studied the boy quietly.
It was a simple question.
Yet not one most people ever bothered asking.
After all, ambition was often accepted without explanation.
"Power," Kael'Thar finally answered.
Lucien tilted his head.
"But he already had power."
"People rarely stop wanting something simply because they possess it."
The boy lowered his gaze toward the book.
His fingers lightly touched the illustration of the ancient king.
"That sounds exhausting."
For a brief moment, Kael'Thar laughed.
A genuine laugh.
A rare thing.
"It is."
Lucien nodded as though he had reached an important conclusion.
Then he closed the book.
The sound echoed softly through the room.
Kael'Thar immediately noticed.
Normally, Lucien continued reading after asking a question.
Today he did not.
"Something else troubles you."
It wasn't a question.
Lucien looked toward the window.
Outside, children played in the street.
Some chased a wooden ball.
Others pretended to be knights fighting imaginary monsters.
For a few moments, he simply watched.
Then he asked:
"Master..."
"Hm?"
"Why do people obey kings?"
Kael'Thar raised an eyebrow.
"That is a dangerous question."
Lucien looked back at him.
"I still want the answer."
The Lord of Demons closed his book.
For some reason, conversations with Lucien often felt less like teaching and more like navigating hidden traps.
"Some obey because they respect them."
Lucien nodded.
"Others?"
"Fear."
"Others?"
"Wealth."
"Others?"
"Tradition."
Lucien thought about it.
Then asked:
"And if someone doesn't respect the king, doesn't fear him, doesn't need his wealth, and doesn't care about tradition?"
Silence.
Kael'Thar leaned back in his chair.
"What do you think would happen?"
Lucien's gaze drifted toward the distant horizon visible through the window.
"I think such a person would be difficult to control."
For a moment, neither spoke.
A strange expression crossed Kael'Thar's face.
Not surprise.
Not amusement.
Something else.
Something thoughtful.
"Perhaps."
The conversation ended there.
At least on the surface.
But Kael'Thar knew better.
Whenever Lucien asked a question, the answer rarely marked the end of his thoughts.
It merely became the beginning.
Later that afternoon, the two walked through the streets of Valdren.
The city was alive with activity.
Merchants advertised exotic goods.
Travelers shared stories from distant villages.
Blacksmiths displayed freshly forged weapons.
Children ran through the marketplace while their exhausted parents attempted to keep up.
Lucien observed everything.
Not casually.
Not like a child.
He studied.
Watched.
Compared.
Learned.
It was one of the things Kael'Thar found most unusual about him.
Lucien rarely looked at what people said.
He looked at what they did.
Near a fruit stand, a merchant loudly praised the quality of his apples.
Meanwhile, Lucien noticed him quietly placing damaged fruit beneath healthier ones.
Near a tavern, two men laughed and embraced like old friends.
Yet their smiles vanished the moment they turned away from one another.
Near the city gate, a guard accepted a small pouch from a merchant before suddenly deciding not to inspect his cart.
Lucien saw everything.
He said nothing.
Until they reached the market square.
There, sitting beside a stone wall, was a young boy.
Thin.
Dirty.
Hungry.
The child couldn't have been older than seven.
His eyes remained fixed upon a bakery window.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hoping.
The baker eventually noticed him.
"Go away."
The boy lowered his head.
"Please..."
"I said leave."
The baker waved him off.
Several people watched.
None intervened.
The boy eventually walked away.
Slowly.
Quietly.
As though he were accustomed to disappointment.
Lucien stopped walking.
Kael'Thar took several more steps before noticing.
He turned.
Lucien was still staring at the alley where the boy had disappeared.
"What is it?"
"He was hungry."
"Yes."
"The baker had enough food."
"Yes."
Lucien remained silent.
Then asked:
"Why didn't he help?"
Kael'Thar already knew where this conversation was heading.
"The bread belonged to him."
The answer seemed unsatisfactory.
Lucien's eyes narrowed slightly.
"If someone has more than they need..."
His gaze remained fixed upon the bakery.
"...and another person has less than they need..."
A pause.
"...why is that acceptable?"
The sounds of the marketplace seemed distant.
For a brief moment, Kael'Thar found himself without an immediate answer.
Not because the question was difficult.
But because it revealed something about the boy asking it.
Lucien wasn't questioning ownership.
Or economics.
Or law.
He was questioning fairness.
And fairness was a far more complicated subject.
"Because the world is not fair."
Lucien looked at him.
The answer was simple.
Brutal.
True.
The boy thought about it for a long time.
Then continued walking.
But Kael'Thar noticed something.
Lucien glanced back toward the alley one final time.
And in his eyes there was neither anger nor sadness.
Only thought.
As though he had discovered another puzzle.
Another flaw in the world he was trying to understand.
That night, after dinner, Kael'Thar found Lucien sitting beside the fireplace once more.
A different book rested in his lap.
The flames danced across the pages.
Outside, darkness slowly consumed the city.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Kael'Thar asked:
"What are you reading?"
"A history book."
"I can see that."
Lucien looked up.
The faintest hint of amusement appeared in his eyes.
Kael'Thar almost regretted teaching him sarcasm.
"Then what have you learned?"
The boy thought carefully.
Several seconds passed.
Then he closed the book.
"Everyone wants to control something."
The answer surprised even Kael'Thar.
"Explain."
Lucien looked toward the fire.
"The kings want to control kingdoms."
"The nobles want to control people."
"The merchants want to control wealth."
"The criminals want to control fear."
His gaze slowly rose.
"And most people want to control each other."
The room became quiet.
The flames crackled softly.
Kael'Thar studied him.
"Then what do you think about that?"
Lucien looked down at his hands.
For a brief moment, he appeared uncertain.
Then he answered honestly.
"I don't think I would like it."
A faint smile touched Kael'Thar's face.
Neither of them knew it yet.
But years later, that simple thought would become the foundation of everything Lucien believed.
The desire to walk his own path.
The refusal to let others decide his future.
The dream of a freedom he could not yet fully understand.
And somewhere deep within the heart of the boy known as Lucien, the first seed of that dream had quietly begun to grow.
End of Chapter 1