Elric used to be so small.
Too small for the weight of the fur cloak draped over his shoulders, its hem dragging through snow that came up to his knees. The courtyard of the Aldenar stronghold stretched wide and white before him, banners snapping overhead in a wind that never seemed to sleep.
At the center stood his father.
Duke Aldenar didn't raise his voice. He never had to. His presence alone was enough to silence the yard.
"Elric," his father said, and the boy straightened instinctively.
No affection in the tone. No cruelty either. Just expectation.
"Again."
The wooden practice sword felt too big in his hands. His arms shook as he raised it, boots slipping slightly on packed snow. Across from him stood a knight twice his size, patient and watchful, eyes kind in a way that almost made it worse.
Elric lunged.
He missed. Of course he missed. The knight stepped aside easily, tapped Elric's shoulder with the flat of his blade.
"Dead," someone murmured.
