The fact was, the boy didn't know how to read at all--as such, extra lessons were needed--more money that shouldn't exist was spent for the sleazy instructor to teach the boy what should be the bare minimum teachings of the nation.
As the days passed, a glimmer returned to his eyes as the stimulation of learning did its work, but rarely did his sister ever watch over him as the man instructed him. In fact, she never stood in the same room as the highborn mage.
It was a fact he brushed off, but still, it somewhat bothered him.
"Karsten...that's your name?"
Avdima asked as he sounded out the symbols dyed in ink across the parchment.
"Yes; very good, Avdima."
Though the praise came from the man's dry lips, the ginger-bearded mage was distracted by something else; leaning back in the fragile wooden chair as his sleazy, blue eyes watched the door to the sister of Avdima's room.
I should have realized it sooner. I'd like to think I was a smart kid; able to pick up on things. But I didn't. My own selfish desire that I masked as something selfless was paid with a price I would never accept.
It was only by his continuous and accelerated growth that Avdima chose to overlook the daunting signs around him. Not long after learning how to read and write did he begin his lessons in magic--it was obvious that he was a natural or even something beyond that.
"Masterful! Are you sure you aren't a bastard? Such talent...it really is something only fit for one of noble birth."
As backhanded as it was, Avdima happily accepted the compliment as the ginger-haired teacher applauded his usage of dark magic, having obliterated a chunk of wood into bits of sawdust.
Part of me thought that after seeing how good I was, Karsten would ostracize me out of envy or simple, blind arrogance in his own blood. When he seemed genuinely happy to see my growth, my fears subsided.
I was an idiot for thinking such benevolence existed in this kingdom.
Months passed as soon did years; after the two years that Avdima learned under the guidance of Karsten, the mage of noble birth did the unthinkable--he brought the boy into the heart of the capital, a wonderland of dreams and opportunities he never thought he'd see.
As good of news as it was, there was only one thing he could think about as he rode in that pristine carriage through the streets like a revered prince.
She looked sad, he thought.
Though she shared in his excitement for this opportunity, Avdima could see it in the eyes of his sister before leaving--they were full of a deep-seated pain. Even so, he chose not to squander the path set before him.
"Where are we going?"
"Hoh, what fun is it to relinquish the joy of surprise?"
Karsten played with his exaggerated mustache, twirling one end of its ginger essence between his fingers as he sat across from the boy in the velvet carriage.
It was on that day I realized why Karsten had been so kind to me since discovering my talent. Bringing me into that somber keep, filled with figures clad in garments just as dreary. As they walked past me, I noticed a recurring element in their eyes--sharp, yet relaxed, as if experiencing death and returning on numerous occasions.
I didn't realize that day it was those marble floors of a sable sea of ivory stars that I'd be looking at for years to come.
"Voyager Keep!"
Presenting the identity of the large, mostly empty lobby of the enigmatic domain which the boy was brought to, Karsten spread one arm out as if pointing out its lavish features.
Still, Avdima was taken in by the scale and cleanliness of the building, looking around in awe before his eyes met with a single figure that stood separate from him and his instructor--a man dressed in layers of black, similar to that of a bishop that had been dyed by the darkness of death.
Between his bald head and dark eyes with little emotion to them, Avdima was hesitant to approach the man, but had to.
"Gorlana!"
"This is the boy?"
Though Karsten approached the bald man in a friendly demeanor, the figure clad in black with his hands formally tucked behind his back shut such friendliness down with his quick, unconcerned response.
"...Yeah, this is him--Avdima."
As soon as Karsten confirmed this for the mysterious man, Gorlana knelt down in front of the boy without moving his hands from his back, his wide, deathly eyes staring into the boy's own.
"...Nice to meet you--"
Avdima's attempt at manners was thwarted by the indifferent actions of Gorlana, who unveiled his hands, using his fingers to part the boy's eyelids, inspecting every cell of his white sclera.
"Mm. Yes. This boy certainly does possess it; such rich, bountiful magical energy. A fine specimen. To think one was born in the slums. As per the agreement, here is your pay."
Retrieving a sack filled to the brim with the chime of rich silver and gold within its hold, Gorlana handed to the mage the package without turning his gaze to him.
"Ah, yes, thank you!"
"There is more where that came from if he truly matches your words."
I was too confused by the situation to even piece it together at the time, but I guess my instincts were good enough--somehow, my respect for the man I called Teacher diminished instantly without putting it together in my head.
In truth, I later learned this wasn't an all too rare occurrence—children with talent being sold to the Argonauts to become trained dogs for the kingdom—or should I say, killers. Though, most ended in failure and death quickly.
It was during this time a decade ago that the Outlanders were making moves; rumors spread and voices talked—Mastorn became restless with fear and anxiety. It was no different for the King.
They wanted powerful, famous Argonauts who could act as beacons of light for Mastorn and the sunset of life for others.
"Come, boy, there is much to do."
Avdima had little say as Gorlana guides him away with a hand against his back, bringing him past the black, pearly door that sat at the end of the hall.
Looking back once more at his teacher with puzzled, worried eyes—the man was gawking at the coin he had accrued, not a single ounce of worry in that avarice-born grin on his lips.
I was clueless as to what was going on; giving in to whatever was asked of me simply because I was just a boy from the slums—I couldn't toss whatever opportunity this was—not for my sister.
Brought into an ivory room, the floor was slick with a layer of water.
"Strip."
The deep, commanding voice wasn't from the bald-headed man but a burly, scar-covered giant of a human who followed them at Gorlana's command.
All Avdima could presume about the man was that he was an Argonaut—which meant his orders were absolute.
Without any resistance, the scroungy boy removed his hole-filled, beige tunic along with his patched-together trousers.
"All of it."
He was hesitant, but there was no arguing with that mountain of a man. The young Avdima followed the orders, seating himself as the large man dumped a bucket of lukewarm water on the boy's body.
ραпdα nᴏνɐ| сom It wasn't a pleasant experience, discomfort aside; the burly man took it upon himself to thoroughly, and rigorously wash the body of the boy.
"Filthy. If you're to walk among us, you have to wash away the slums from your body."
The gruff voice of the man spoke out as he ran the cloth against the boy's back as if trying to scrape his skin off.
"…Right…"
After that uncomfortable experience, he was given a change of clothes—a jet-black uniform in the form of a long-sleeved, padded tunic and heavy, but warm trousers along with proper boots.
"Comfortable, I assume?"
"…Yeah. Thanks."
Avdima replied to Gorlana as patted the soft fabric, looking up at the enigmatic man as they now stood in what seemed to be the man's office.
"Despite the perplexing situation before you, you haven't asked a single question. That is exactly what we're looking for. Karsten, foolish as he may be, was right about you."
"…"
"If you're as magically inclined as he told us, then you'll become an Argonaut in no time. King Held will be ecstatic…"
Gorlana smiled with deep dimples in his cheeks as he sat down at his desk, watching Avdima with wicked eyes as they sat in the somber office.
"Still no questions?"
The man seemed almost disappointed now, for a reason unknown to the quiet boy who simply shook his head.
"I see. Bulsteighn, show him to his quarters. Come dawn, your testing will begin."
With those words, Avdima was sent off into the bowels of the unknown once more.
"Alright, kid, let's go."
Although I was easy-going as they said, I could hardly sleep that night. Despite how soft and plump that mattress was compared to the blanket that was my bed at home, it was uncomfortable. The quiet hum that filled the emptiness and darkness of the room—it rang against my ears like the buzzing wings of a fly.
Still, I was content.
All I kept telling myself is it was for my sister.
With the dawn of the next day came the enigmatic tests prepared for the slum-born boy; taking part in a vast, metallic chamber that carried the subtlest of sounds into an echo. Looking around, he could see there were many symbols and designs engraved into the silver material, emanating from itself a slight mystical aura.
It was clear to be some sort of chamber of magecraft, but it was soaked in enigma. Though, he stood alone on the flat arena, looking up to see elevated far and safely above him were men who wore the same immaculately somber robes similar to Gorlana--all watching him with eyes as bleak as a day of grey clouds.
"Avdima, inheritor of no family name or fortunes, do you accept the trial of the Argonauts?"
The way it was worded from Gorlana, who stood amongst the somber, dull-faced men up above, it didn't sound merely like a test to examine his abilities.
"...I do."
Answering with confidence, the boy with eyes even more detached than theirs replied back.
"Then may Jason bless you. Let the trial begin."
Slowly, Gorlana raised his hand as his appearance was nothing more than a shadow to the eyes of Avdima in the chamber filled with the embrace of darkness. With a snap of the bald man's fingers, the sound of chains being pulled as well as a heavy, dormant object being raised filled the arena with a rumble.
Spinning around to find the origin of this abundantly loud sound, the boy's eyes met with a colossal door that was slowly being parted from its rest against the ground, its dense, solid form releasing a fit of dust in its wake.
Stomps fell upon the metal beyond that heart-thumping door, then a low, unrecognizable growl released from the veil of the slowly raising door. Even though the monstrosity sat unknown behind that gate fit for a castle, its breaths traveled far enough to brush against the boy's legs as he raised his guard in anticipation.
Is this what they meant by a test…? Avdima thought.
Before the gate reinforced by multiple layers of steel could be fully raised, massive hands reached out from beneath, gripping the form of the barrier as the monstrous grip belonging to the scabbed, hairy fingers caved in the metal.
"Graah!"
With an ear-busting roar, the beast threw the door into its hold, opening the entrance that sealed it away as its form was revealed to the eyes of the young, inexperienced mage.
As it stood there, huffing and puffing visibly steamy breaths from its maw that inhabited a massive underbite, the beast rested its weight on its two oversized hands that were covered in the same abundant, dark-brown locks of fur.
Fangs that resembled the tusks of a mammoth protruded from its underbite, the fuzzy beast looked at the young boy despite its eyes being covered by a veil of its own fur as saliva dripped heavily onto the ground below.
Even in the sparse light that danced amongst the shadows, the contents of the beast's lair could be seen: chewed bones, strings of flesh constricted and intertwined. Some of these human remains laid present on the creature's thick fur, lathering it in the garments of death.
It's huge...am I only as tall as its knees? Hard to tell with the way it's hunched over like that, Avdima thought.
Without any warning, the giant, shaggy beast began to charge directly at the boy, using its fists like legs as it slammed them down with each step--sending disrupting tremors through the metallic flooring as Avdima held his balance by some miracle.
"Erebus: Dark Embrace."
Extending his hand up towards the form of the towering creature, Avdima released ropes of intertwined darkness that spread out like a net around the hefty width of the gorilla-like monster. As the laced bindings of sable, magic mass tightened around the salivating beast into a full-hold, Avdima planted his feet down and gritted his teeth, swinging his arm back as the massive entity was flung into one of the far walls; the resulting quake retrieving an audible array of gasps from the spectators.
It was an odd thing; he wasn't nervous or afraid in the least. A stable, all-encompassing array of calmness embraced him like the embrace of a mother—all worries washed away.
"Impossible…"
"This boy was born of peasant blood?!"
"Astounding!"
The spectating councilmen of the Argonauts spoke their words of awe at the rich, boundless well of mana that was felt from Avdima.
Across the body of the flung beast, lacerations and burns were left where the darkness embraced its flesh, leaving spots of its thick, curly fur empty in patches.
I was twelve years old. A beast known as a "Gurunda-Maja"; a beast that has ate countless who've tried the trial of the Argonauts.
I wasn't the first kid to do it or the youngest, but it was rare enough that the display of power was irrefutable enough that my low-birth and slum origins didn't stop me from being inducted as an Argonaut that very day.
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