Chương 15: The Rider’s Warning

Destroying the boulder had been satisfying. Explaining why it had disappeared would be considerably less so. Sieghart stood inside the scorched depression and examined the fragments scattered around him. Some were as large as his head, while others had been reduced to gravel. A few pieces had flown far enough to land near the fence. Perhaps he could repair it. Earth Magic allowed him to manipulate soil, sand, and stone.

If he gathered the fragments and pressed them together, he might be able to reconstruct something resembling the original boulder. It didn't need to be perfect. His grandparents probably hadn't memorized its precise shape. As long as a large gray object occupied the same location, they might overlook minor differences. Sieghart raised both hands. Yellow-brown mana gathered around the scattered stone. The smaller fragments trembled before lifting from the grass and sliding toward the crater.

Larger pieces proved more difficult. Sieghart could move them, but he couldn't lift several at once. He dragged each chunk across the soil, leaving shallow trails behind it, and arranged them near the center of the crater. Within half an hour, he had created a pile. It didn't resemble a boulder. It looked more like someone had dumped several cartloads of broken stone in the field. Sieghart focused harder. He tried forcing two fragments together.

Earth Magic pressed them against each other, but the cracks remained visible. The surfaces no longer matched because the explosions had pulverized the edges. He tried filling the gaps with gravel. That made the pile uglier. Next, Sieghart attempted to create stone. He imagined mana condensing into earth the same way Water Creation produced water. He focused on weight, stability, and the texture of solid rock. Nothing appeared. That was strange. Water Creation converted mana into physical water.

Flame produced fire without fuel. If those elements could be created, why couldn't he produce earth? Perhaps he lacked the correct spell. Sand Control manipulated existing material but didn't create anything. Breeze also controlled the air already surrounding him. Flame and Water Creation were the only basic spells that generated their elements directly. Sieghart tried again. Mana stirred, but no stone formed.

"Worth a try." He changed tactics and attempted to fuse the fragments. Heat could melt certain types of stone, but his fireballs had already demonstrated that explosive heat tended to make rocks less cooperative. His ordinary Flame wasn't hot enough to liquefy the material, and even if it were, melting the fragments would create an obvious dark mass rather than the original boulder. Earth Magic couldn't repair what had been destroyed. At least, not at its current level.

Sieghart spent another hour arranging the fragments before accepting that the project was hopeless. The pile remained too small because much of the boulder had broken into dust. He couldn't create the missing material. He couldn't reconnect the shattered pieces. He could only move the remains. That was another limitation worth remembering. Destruction was easy. Restoration demanded far more control, knowledge, and possibly an entirely different spell. Sieghart finally dispersed the pile.

He pushed the larger fragments toward the edge of the property, where they blended with other stones near the fence. The gravel went into the crater, and loose soil covered everything. A patch of newly disturbed ground remained where the boulder had stood. It wasn't perfect. Still, it looked less suspicious than a pile of rubble. Sieghart returned to the farmhouse while rehearsing possible explanations. Lightning was unlikely. Natural erosion didn't cause boulders to vanish overnight.

A giant bird might have carried it away, but any creature capable of lifting that much stone would leave other evidence. Fortunately, Sieghart's grandparents soon had more important things to worry about. They never noticed the missing boulder. The next morning began normally. Sieghart sat at the dining table with Elara and Edric. Breakfast consisted of fresh bread, eggs, cheese, and sliced fruit. Sieghart had a book open beside his plate despite his grandmother's repeated instructions not to read while eating.

He was studying a section about the kingdom's borders. The irony became apparent a few minutes later. Hooves struck the road outside. They approached rapidly, without the gradual slowing of a merchant's wagon. A horse stopped near the entrance, and someone jumped from its back. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Three heavy knocks struck the front door. Everyone at the table became still.

Farmers and merchants rarely arrived this early without warning. The workers used the side entrance, and anyone from town usually called out before approaching. Edric pushed back his chair.

"Stay here." He crossed the hall and opened the door. A mounted messenger stood outside. He wore a dark leather coat over light armor, and mud covered his boots and trousers. A short sword hung from his belt, while a rolled banner was secured behind his saddle. The horse breathed heavily. It had been ridden hard. Edric studied the man.

"What is it?"

"The border is under attack," the rider said. The words carried through the open door. Elara's hand tightened around her cup. Sieghart stopped pretending to read. The messenger continued without entering.

"Lord Emberhart has mobilized the border forces and is engaging the invaders. The main roads are being watched, but some monsters may slip through the defensive lines." Edric's expression hardened.

"How far from the first wall?"

"I wasn't given details. The order is for every village and isolated property to take precautions. Keep workers near shelter, secure livestock, and prepare to defend yourselves."

"What kind of monsters?"

"I have twelve more farms to warn before noon." The rider stepped back toward his horse.

"Expect further instructions if the situation worsens." He mounted before Edric could respond.

"Wait." The messenger was already turning his horse.

"House Emberhart holds the line," he said.

"Just be ready in case something gets past them." He kicked the animal into motion and left without waiting for an answer. Within seconds, he was racing down the road, carrying the same warning toward the next farm. Edric remained at the doorway. The sound of hooves faded.

"The border," Elara said quietly. Edric closed the door.

"Yes." Sieghart looked toward his book. The kingdom's border lay north of the farm, though the exact distance wasn't clear from the simple map. Several fortified walls, watchtowers, and military settlements protected the region from the wilderness beyond. House Emberhart controlled much of that defensive territory. Sieghart hadn't known the family's precise responsibilities.

His books described them as an old warrior house, but historical records tended to exaggerate noble achievements while quietly ignoring their failures. Now the situation made more sense. His father possessed a noble rank, but he wasn't simply a wealthy lord who managed land from an office. He served as a commander responsible for the border's defense. The red-and-black armor wasn't ceremonial. Lord Alaric was fighting the invaders personally. Sieghart tried to determine how that made him feel. Concerned, perhaps.

He didn't want his father to die. Being abandoned had hurt, but it wasn't enough to make Sieghart wish death upon him. Alaric was also standing between the territory and an invading force, which meant his survival benefited everyone on the farm. Beyond that, Sieghart felt very little. The man was almost a stranger. Blood didn't automatically create affection. Edric left the dining room without another word. Sieghart listened to his footsteps climbing the stairs.

A door opened on the second floor, followed by the sound of a chest being dragged across wooden boards. Several minutes later, Edric returned. He carried a bow. It was taller than Sieghart and shaped from dark wood with red markings carved along both limbs. The string possessed a faint metallic shine, while a polished crimson stone had been set above the grip. Mana pulsed through the weapon. The carved markings glowed red in response to Edric's touch.

A quiver hung across his back, filled with arrows bearing black metal heads. Edric had also replaced his ordinary coat with a thick leather vest reinforced by small metal plates. Sieghart stared. He had never seen his grandfather carry a weapon. Edric used axes and knives around the farm, but those were tools. The bow was different. Its grip showed years of use, and the weapon settled naturally into his hand. His grandfather had combat training. Probably a great deal of it.

That was reassuring, because the farm lacked soldiers. The workers were strong and accustomed to physical labor, but none had demonstrated serious fighting abilities. If monsters reached the property, Edric might be the only adult capable of stopping them. Sieghart glanced at Elara. His grandmother knew several elemental spells, but ordinary magic took too long to cast under pressure. She might support Edric from a distance, though she lacked the mana for prolonged combat. Then there was Sieghart.

No one knew that he could launch fireballs one hundred meters in two seconds or create enough of them to erase a boulder. He preferred to keep it that way. If monsters appeared, secrecy would become a lower priority than survival. Edric noticed Sieghart staring at the bow.

"It is only a precaution," he said. The red markings continued glowing beneath his fingers.

"Are monsters coming here?" Sieghart asked.

"Probably not. House Emberhart has guarded this territory for more than a hundred years. The invaders have never taken this land." That was nice. Inspiring, even. Sieghart wasn't particularly interested in the proud history of the family that had given up on him before his first birthday. He cared more about the present threat.

"What are the invaders?" The room became quiet. Edric looked at Elara. Elara returned the look. Neither answered immediately. That hesitation told Sieghart more than any reassuring speech could have. Whatever was attacking the border, his grandparents didn't believe a four-year-old should know about it.