The room was beautifully decorated, carrying the scent of old wood and quiet royalty. Every piece of furniture felt carefully chosen, from the polished wooden walls to the soft curtains that barely moved with the air. Aron's eyes moved slowly across the room, taking in every detail with a distant, almost unfamiliar expression.
"This place… looks good," he muttered softly.
Keiss stood near the door, watching him.
Keiss: "Rest here for today," he said calmly. "There's an infirmary inside the castle. Just go there and tell them Commander Keiss sent you. Get that hand treated… understood?"
Aron nodded.
Aron: "I will."
His hands still looked badly burned—the skin reddish-pink, irritated and fragile.
Keiss glanced at them again, concern briefly flashing across his face.
Keiss: "By the way… can I ask how you ended up like that? It looks like a burn."
His tone softened.
Aron looked at his hands for a moment.
Aron: "I'm a blacksmith," he replied simply. "It's my job. I burn my hands every time."
There was no pride in his voice—only quiet disappointment.
Keiss exhaled.
Keiss: "Well… I've arranged some clothes for you. Take a bath and change into them. This one you're wearing… stinks pretty bad."
He paused, then added,
"And when you're healed, come find me. If you make up your mind… maybe you can stay. Or go back home."
Without waiting for a response, Keiss turned and walked out.
The door closed behind him.
Aron stood alone.
He slowly looked around the room again. His gaze stopped at the bed—a large cotton bed that looked impossibly soft, like it could melt away every ache in his body.
Without wasting time, Aron removed his shirt and headed to bathe.
Warm water ran over his body, washing away dust, sweat, and fatigue. His mind drifted with the flow of water. Thoughts came and went, but he was too tired to hold onto any of them.
After finishing, he wore the new clothes. They felt similar to what he usually wore—simple, comfortable, nothing excessive.
He stepped out and walked toward the bed.
The moment his body touched it, the softness pulled him in.
His muscles relaxed instantly.
His eyes grew heavy.
Strands of his hair fell over his eyes as he slowly drifted into sleep.
-----------
A bright, beautiful morning arrived.
Sunlight streamed gently through the window.
Aron opened his eyes.
For a moment, he forgot where he was.
Then everything returned.
"This must be the infirmary Keiss mentioned," he said quietly as he approached the building later.
He stepped inside.
The air smelled clean, filled with herbs and medicine.
A man stood inside, organizing equipment.
Albert: "Hello," the man said warmly. "My name is Albert. I'm a doctor. May I ask who sent you here?"
Aron: "Commander Keiss," Aron replied. "He told me to come here."
Albert smiled.
Albert: "Ah, yes. He did mention someone would come. Can you show me your hands?"
Aron extended them.
Albert adjusted his glasses and leaned closer. Carefully, he began removing the old bandages. As the burned skin was revealed, his expression turned serious.
Albert: "Thank God… there's no infection," he said. "But these are severe burns."
He glanced at Aron.
"I can tell… you're a blacksmith, aren't you?"
Aron looked slightly surprised.
Aron: "Did Keiss already tell you about me?"
Albert paused for a second, then smiled awkwardly.
Albert: "Well… yes. He mentioned it last night."
He gently placed Aron's hands into a bowl of lukewarm medicated water. The liquid soothed the burning sensation instantly.
Aron exhaled slowly.
Albert worked with care, soaking the wounds, drying them gently, and applying medicine. Then he wrapped them with fresh bandages—not too tight, just enough to protect them.
For the first time, the pain began to fade.
Albert: "You can hold light things for now," he said. "It will take a few days—maybe half a week—but you'll heal properly."
Aron nodded.
Aron: "Thank you… for helping me."
He turned and began walking out.
Albert: "Take care," Albert called out with a kind smile. "We'll meet again soon."
------------
Aron stepped outside.
He stood still for a moment, unsure of what to do next.
The castle grounds were massive.
He noticed a peaceful green garden nearby—but he didn't go there.
Instead, he heard the sound of metal and movement.
Soldiers training.
He turned and walked toward it.
As he approached, two knights walked past him.
One of them bumped into his shoulder.
Knight: "Watch where you're going, kid," the voice came coldly from inside the armor.
Aron didn't respond.
He kept walking.
Ahead, a large group of soldiers trained intensely. Some were doing push-ups—over a hundred of them.
Keiss stood nearby, holding a wooden stick.
Keiss: "One hundred one!" he shouted.
Then he noticed Aron.
He stopped and handed the stick to another soldier.
Keiss: "Ah, Aron," he said with a slight smile. "Your hands look better already."
Aron: "I don't know how to thank you," Aron said honestly. "But… thank you for everything."
Keiss: "It's nothing," Keiss replied. "You'll need a few days to recover anyway. Until then… why not observe the soldiers?"
He gestured forward.
"Come with me."
They walked toward a training arena.
Keiss: "See that giant over there?" he said, pointing. "His name is Oscar. One of the strongest knights we have."
In the center stood a massive man.
Oscar.
His size alone made him look like a fortress.
Oscar: "Ha! Who dares to fight me?" he shouted loudly. "Come! I'll defeat anyone here!"
No one stepped forward.
Then his eyes landed on Aron.
Standing beside Keiss.
A grin spread across his face.
He pointed directly at him.
Oscar: "You! The one with Commander Keiss! I challenge you!"
Aron's face remained blank.
Out of everyone… he chooses me?
What bad luck…
Keiss: "No—!" he tried to stop it.
But Aron had already stepped forward.
One step at a time.
The crowd went silent.
Everyone was shocked.
Oscar was nearly three times the size of a normal man.
A walking tank.
But inside Aron's mind, a different thought formed.
The larger something is… the easier it becomes to find its weak points.
In simple terms… size can be a disadvantage.
Aron stepped into the arena.
He stood calmly.
Relaxed.
His eyes slowly closed.
Then opened.
Focused.
Locked straight ahead.
Oscar laughed loudly.
Oscar: "Good! Let's see what you can do, kid!"
The crowd watched closely.
Keiss stood still, observing.
Aron's hands were still injured. He could barely grip properly.
Yet…
He refused to take a sword.
In that moment, Keiss no longer saw him as just a boy.
Not even as a normal human.
But as something else entirely.
A presence.
Something far greater than it appeared.