Aurane entered his humble abode, ducking slightly as the tent was built for smaller, average-sized humans. The first thing he saw was his bedroll, a recent purchase, which had brought him fewer backaches compared to his previous bed, just a haystack covered by a blanket. Typically, six to ten men would share a tent aside from nobles, royalties and high ranking officers who were given the luxury of their own. No one wanted to share space with him, so he enjoyed the solitude and privacy of his tent. A simple "pillow," really just cloth stuffed inside, rested atop the bedroll.
Aurane stripped his sword and bow, placing them on the table, while his short sword was left beside the bedroll. He'd used up all his arrows and hadn't bothered to retrieve them, as they had become rusted and dull. He removed his cloak and draped it over the bed to act as a blanket, then picked up a small wooden chair. The chair was old, its parts replaced over time with new wood. When he arrived here a year ago, no one would sell him even a chair, so when he saw a discarded one, he fixed it up himself.
The wood creaked as he sat down. He removed his leather armor and stood, walking toward a pottery jar where water was stored. Looking into it, he saw his reflection.
Aurane had a beautiful, ethereal face with sharp, defined features. His skin was smooth, with a light, almost porcelain-like tone. His high cheekbones and strong jawline gave him a regal, yet rugged charm, reflecting both his elven and human heritage.
His emerald green eyes were piercing and intense, often giving off a sense of mystery and depth. They were slightly elongated, with an almond shape, characteristic of his elven lineage. His gaze was calm, but it held an undeniable intensity, reflecting his battle-hardened nature. Aurane's nose was finely sculpted, with a gentle bridge and slight flare at the nostrils. His lips were moderately full, and while his expression often remained stoic, there was an air of subtle beauty.
His fiery red hair, falling past his shoulders, was often tied back in a loose ponytail. The smooth texture seemed almost to shimmer, adding to the otherworldly aspect of his appearance. As he removed the tie, his hair cascaded down, brushing lightly against his shoulders, revealing his ears.
As a half-elf, one ear was pointed, a clear mark of his elven heritage, while the other was more human-like, rounded and soft. This difference was subtle but unmistakable to those who observed him closely.
The first thought that came to his mind was a memory from his childhood. Shouting, torches flaring up. He remembered crying and trembling, while his adoptive mother and father pleaded outside, urging the attackers to stop and go away.
"I am….. afraid?"
He whispered without thinking, the words slipping out as the memory flooded back, before snapping himself back to the present. He dipped his hands into the pottery jar, splashing his face with water, then grabbed a clean cloth, dipping it into the jar again to wipe away the dirt, bloodstains, and sweat from his body, things he had long since forgotten or no longer cared to remember.
He heard the sound of a horn being blown, signaling the arrival of someone important, likely a high-ranking official or noble. With that thought aside, Aurane let himself dry off as he ate. The bread was hard, likely moldy soon, but it was the only food provided. It tasted bland, but perhaps his taste buds had grown accustomed to it. He had no time to hunt for boar or fish today nor for the past few days. The attacks had been too frequent, and something bigger seemed to be looming. After finishing the bread, tired and weary from the day's events, Aurane walked to his bedroll, grabbed the pillow, and laid his head upon it.
As he lay there, the sounds of celebration filled the air. The camp was merry, with the cheers of soldiers and the songs of victory echoing outside. They did this every time they successfully repelled an attack. Aurane couldn't relate. He wasn't invited to such things and preferred the quiet to himself. His parents had been the only companions he had truly connected with, the only ones he had spoken freely to. He let his thoughts drift, soon falling into an exhausted sleep.
The next morning, the sounds of birds chirping and the usual bustle of camp life surrounded him. People were talking, practicing, praying, or eating. Aurane had already woken but was too lazy to get up. He was about to let himself drift back into a slumber when a presence approached from roughly eight meters away, jolting him awake. He hurriedly dressed, grabbing his sword and short sword.
Then, he felt an unmistakable, precise, and swift sensation of magic cutting through the air above him, as though a blade sliced through the top of his tent. The fabric of the tent collapsed immediately. Aurane's eyes widened in surprise, recognizing that it was magic. A long-range spell, likely from a mage. Mages are usually weak in close combat. He immediately leapt toward the source of the spell, calculating its trajectory. As he closed the distance, about two meters away his eyes widened in surprise. Standing before him were two figures.
The first figure was a knight in full plate armor, his helm off, revealing a battle-hardened face with a sharp gaze. Beside him stood another figure, much younger and smaller in stature. This individual was dressed in elegant noble clothes, though a practical layer of light armor was worn beneath, indicating a readiness for battle despite his youth. The figure was slighter than the knight and appeared less imposing, but there was a quiet confidence in his stance that suggested far more experience than one might expect from someone so young.