Aerys Aurelyon was no naive child. Fifteen years of intrigue, assassination attempts, and small victories had sharpened his mind. He knew better than anyone the value of a weapon—and the necessity of keeping it hidden to survive.
I must keep the Fragment hidden, he thought.
He did not yet understand that the magical knowledge of the era would detect nothing unusual in him; yet the thought that Master Baelus—the court doctor tied to House Nimerius—might comprehend what had happened made him uneasy. Master Baelus often served the Dukes, and Aerys feared the doctor might uncover the ancient murmurs echoing in his mind.
"I hope he doesn't notice…" he whispered.
Master Baelus, however, was no fool in politics. He merely observed the change: where once a frail, untrained boy had stood, there was now a youth whose Essence flowed with startling vigor. The physician assumed a benefactor—perhaps even the Emperor himself—had acted in secret. He prepared a restorative potion to replenish Aerys' energy and departed with an intrigued smile.
Ighoras, his steadfast guard, returned to the boy as Master Baelus left. Aerys, still damp with the sweat the Fragment had expelled from his body, offered a grateful nod.
"—Ighoras."
"—Prince."
"—Thank you… for coming so quickly."
Ighoras was curt and firm:
"First, you must wash. The layers must be cleansed."
The stench clung stubbornly. Servants were dispatched to prepare a bath. In the scalding water, Aerys felt both his fragility and a new awakening within him.
Does the world truly intend to change my fate? he wondered. Born to a servant, Lady Selenia, he had long been bound by limits: survive, avoid being killed. But now, something else was stirring.
He called gently to the Fragment in his mind. The voice answered, still gentle, almost paternal.
"Yes, Master?" it whispered.
"You said you healed me. How far can you go?" Aerys asked, his voice hoarse with fear and curiosity.
"I can heal both external and internal wounds quickly," the Fragment replied. "Massive losses require time. Full restoration demands the patience."
Aerys felt a new confidence. Hesitating, he decided to test it. He picked up a small dagger and cut his palm lightly.
"—Ouch!" he exclaimed.
"Healing… on the hand", the voice murmured.
The pain vanished, the cut closing as though it had never existed. Aerys stared in awe.
It's… real, he thought.
He clenched his fists, envisioning a future where he could use this gift to rise above the legitimate heirs and avenge past slights.
Meanwhile, in the courtyard of House Nimeryus estate, a rival prince vented his anger on subordinates. Prince Niklaus—the third-ranked heir—fumed at a masked man kneeling before him.
"This is laughable! You send five men to kill one boy, and this is the result?" Niklaus roared.
The masked man stammered, unable to calm the prince's fury. He explained that all assassins had perished except one, who had been impaled by a dagger.
"That boy should have been defenseless. Who protected him?" Niklaus growled.
"Report says… an unknown warrior… or some supernatural force," the man replied, his voice trembling.
Niklaus straightened, his eyes gleaming with a rivalry masquerading as vengeance. He realized that no one had been allowed to claim the throne without interference.
"If he thinks the Academy will protect him, he's wrong. No guards are allowed inside. If I must do the work myself, I will."
"Prince Niklaus…" the man stuttered nervously.
"I will take risks. When the heirs convene, he will find no refuge."
Back at his small manor, Aerys emerged slowly from the bath, muscles revitalized and mind alert. The Fragment murmured softly:
"Our bond deepens, but the road is harsh. Learn quickly".
He clenched his fists one last time, aware that the secret he bore—the Fragment, the purified Essence, the awakened Nexus—must remain hidden for now. The Academy approached: both his sanctuary and battlefield. The heirs, like Niklaus, awaited their chance. Aerys had just begun his own.