Looking at the frenzied crowd singing an unfamiliar patriotic song directed at the class, Logan felt a chill run down his spine and instinctively wanted to hide his face from the overwhelming attention.
Sensing the class's discomfort, the younger princess quickly took her sister's hand and led the students out of the audience chamber—before the crowd had even finished their song.
As the class exited the grand throne room, they stepped into a garden unlike any they had ever seen.
The air was rich with the sweet, intoxicating fragrance of magical plants and blossoms, each more vibrant and alluring than the last. The greenery swayed gently in the breeze, petals dusted with golden pollen.
The students could hardly believe their eyes. Towering plants with sprawling vines twisted in elaborate patterns. Some flowers emitted soft, harmonious hums, their tones blending into a melody that seemed to beckon the students forward.
As they moved deeper into the garden, the scents grew stronger and more inviting with every step.
It was as though the flowers were calling to them—not with voices, but with an unspoken language filled with sounds almost as if someone was whistling a sad tone that reminded them of longing.
The students felt an odd pull, an almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch the delicate petals of the moving flowers, to breathe in their sweet aroma.
Logan, like the others, was drawn in by the garden's strange enchantment. One flower in particular caught his attention: it looked like a rose, deep crimson in color. Its scent was too enticing to ignore.
As he reached for the petals, a vine bristling with thorns coiled suddenly around his finger and left a small cut.
Before he could pull away, he noticed his blood behaving strangely—it seemed to pulse, drawn into the flower.
The rose's vine recoiled at once, retreating as the allure around it vanished, allowing Logan to quietly rejoin the group.
Unbeknownst to him, a faint, ring-shaped mark began to form around his finger where the vine had cut him, almost like a tattoo drawn in blood.
After leaving the enchanted garden, the class was gathered into a line of carriages pulled by extraordinary creatures. These were no ordinary horses. Some were drawn by large, vibrant birds with colorful feathers; others by imposing azure-scaled lizards that walked upright, almost like a dinosaur.
At the front of the procession, the most luxurious carriage was hitched to four majestic Pegasus.
Their powerful bodies were covered in snowy coats, and their wings sparkled with silver feathers. Each one had elegantly braided hair, wearing a caparison with the kingdom's emblem of what looked like a golden gryphon.
Placed at the rear of the procession, Logan had time to marvel at each beast. The sight of these mythical creatures—so unlike anything from their world—left him and his classmates speechless and in awe.
As the line grew shorter, Logan—captivated by the magic surrounding him—barely had time to consider his current predicament.
Being last, it turned out, may have been the worst possible decision. A formally dressed butler approached and guided him forward to the front of the line, tasked with assigning each adolescent to a carriage.
"I'm terribly sorry, young hero," the older man said with a respectful bow, "but it seems the other carriages are full. You'll have to ride with the princess. We didn't prepare enough carts for everyone. My sincerest apologies."
Logan opened his mouth to protest but couldn't find the words.
Before he could process the situation, Ms. Claire noticed him from across the path, where she had been speaking with the two royals.
"It seems you're the odd one out," she said coolly. "But there's no problem. We'll be in the largest carriage, so you may as well enjoy it."
Her tone was stern and devoid of warmth, her discomfort palpable.
With arms tightly crossed and her posture rigid, it was obvious she felt uneasy in her formal but somewhat revealing attire that made Logan silently gulp.
After a brief glance his way, she turned back to the older princess, resuming her attempt to gather information.
The elder royal, in contrast, carried herself with practiced elegance, directing the parade preparations with the precision of someone accustomed to being in command.
With nothing else to do, while waiting for the princess to complete her final tasks, Logan somewhat forced himself to turn his attention to the carriage he was about to board.
It was unlike any of the others—crafted from gleaming silver and lined with gold filigree, the carriage radiated grandeur worthy of royalty.
What truly caught his eye, though, was the absence of wheels. In their place were circular, jewel-encrusted discs that hovered just above the ground, faintly humming with energy.
They appeared to function like magnetic lifts, keeping the entire vehicle aloft.
It was a design none of the other carriages possessed, and Logan quickly realized this must be a privilege reserved exclusively for the royal family.
If that wasn't enough, the four majestic Pegasus harnessed to the front—each one a vision of beauty with white coats and powerful wings—hinted that the carriage didn't just glide... it could fly.
"It seems I've finished. I believe we're ready to begin," said the older princess, Vianell, her voice smooth and composed. Her hair flowed like fine golden silk as she stepped toward the carriage, guided by her personal knight—her longtime bodyguard, who had rarely left her side.
The knight's appearance was striking, entirely tinged in hues of blue. She wore light armor that gleamed like polished sapphire, a fitting match to her cool-toned features: flowing blue hair, piercing blue eyes, and skin so pale it held a faint bluish hue.
The contrast was as elegant as it was unusual, at least on Earth she would be rare since most of her features were blue.
Once Vianell was seated, the knight turned to assist the younger princess, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her role in the event.
With radiant energy, the girl practically skipped forward and jumped into the carriage without hesitation, taking her place with an infectious smile.
Ms. Claire, who had been quietly simmering at being ignored for so long, finally acted on her own. With a dramatic but graceful motion, she extended her arm toward Logan, a sly, teasing smile curling on her lips.
"How about you prove you're a gentleman and help me up?"
"Ah, uhm, sure?" Logan replied, caught off guard by her sudden shift in demeanor. He quickly stood from where he had been studying the carriage's levitating structure, brushing dust he might have picked up from his pants as he approached to assist her.
The royal carriage had two raised steps, and Ms. Claire's form-fitting dress made it difficult to board without help.
With Logan's steady hand, she climbed aboard, the silk of her gown catching briefly on the golden trim of the carriage.
Part of the reason Logan had kept his gaze fixed elsewhere was the sheer pressure of being surrounded by what felt like three and a half goddesses.
The elegance of their formal gowns and the almost divine air they exuded made even looking at them a challenge. Any teenage boy in his place would've understood the struggle.
Fortunately, the ride soon began.
The carriage lifted smoothly and rolled forward, exiting the castle grounds. Ms. Claire, perhaps realizing there was no point in continuing her line of questioning, settled into her seat and turned to watch the passing scenery in silence.
From his corner, Logan stole a glance at Vianell.
She looked relieved that the interrogation had ended—but beneath her composed expression was a flicker of unease.
Logan guessed she wasn't supposed to discuss the summoning with the class in such detail—not without her father present.
That, at least, made sense to him.
Logan chose to push aside his unease for now.
There would be time to worry later.
For the moment, he focused on taking in the wonders of this new world.
Despite the lingering anxiety in the back of his mind, the medieval setting beyond the castle walls sparked a growing sense of fascination.
As their carriage glided forward, it passed through the final set of gates—tall, wooden, and reinforced with iron—and crossed a grand stone bridge arching over a wide moat.
On the other side lay a small clearing where nature thrived untouched.
Logan caught sight of fantastical wildlife: rabbits with sharp, spiraled horns and deer whose antlers shimmered like carved jewels.
Just beyond the clearing, the landscape opened into vast wheatfields stretching toward the horizon.
At the heart of it all stood a sizable town, protected by towering outer walls of stone.
The sight of the busy streets and the golden fields blending into the countryside stirred something inside him—curiosity, awe, and a quiet longing to explore.
As the carriage rolled closer to the town's gates, vibrant banners came into view, strung above the road and flapping in the wind.
Their brilliant colors bore messages of welcome, each one more elaborate than the last.
Crowds lined both sides of the road, eager to lay eyes on the heroes they had summoned.
The cheers that rose up rivaled those from the castle's audience hall, swelling with pure excitement.
Most of the crowd, Logan noticed, consisted of women, children, and elderly men. A few boys his age stood among them, eyes wide with admiration.
The people's clothing was simple, humble—yet the joy on their faces was undeniable.
As the procession moved deeper into the town, the narrow streets grew more packed.
Grand buildings began to rise above the rooftops, marking important guilds and institutions. At the heart of the city stood the guild quarter, and leading the welcome was the Mage's Guild.
With a dramatic flourish, the mages launched a cascade of magical fireworks into the sky.
The brilliant colors exploded above the town in dazzling shapes—dragons, phoenixes, and their version of fireworks that seemed more like shooting stars—drawing gasps and applause from the townsfolk.
For Logan, it was a reminder that this world, however strange, held wonders unlike anything he'd ever known.
As the procession moved on, they passed several blacksmith shops.
Logan watched as old, burly men briefly paused their hammering to glance at the commotion before returning to their glowing anvils with rhythmic strikes.
The nearby marketplace buzzed with activity.
Stalls overflowed with goods both ordinary and exotic: baskets of vibrant fruits and vegetables, hanging cuts of meat, bundles of spices, and even cages containing small mythical beasts.
Among the crowd were merchants shouting out deals, shoppers haggling prices, and the sounds of hooves, chatter, and distant music blending into a perfect symphony of medieval life.
It was a scene straight out of a storybook—vivid, chaotic, and alive.
As their carriage rolled through the bustling streets, members of the crowd occasionally tossed gifts toward the students in celebration.
Logan was startled when a young woman lobbed a fruit into his lap—an odd, star-shaped apple with glistening red skin.
Before he could even react, the small princess leaned forward from her seat beside him, biting into her own.
"It's safe," she said with a cheerful smile. "Try it!"
Taking her cue, Logan sank his teeth into the strange fruit.
The taste hit him instantly—unlike anything he'd ever eaten. It had the citrus tang of an orange but carried the rich sweetness and texture of a ripe apple.
It was oddly addictive, a flavor that defied description and made him want more.
Their journey continued through the lively streets, parading past curious onlookers and waving citizens. Eventually, the procession looped back toward the castle.
Logan leaned back in his seat, still overwhelmed by everything he'd seen, heard, and smelled.
The cheering crowd, the brilliant colors, the magical sights—it was almost too much to take in. And yet, amid the wonder, he couldn't ignore certain troubling details.
The streets were predominantly filled with women, children, and the elderly.
Few adult men were visible. Worse, he had spotted slave markets tucked between buildings—open, unhidden.
He looked toward the other students trailing in the carriages behind him.
They seemed oblivious to the implications, laughing and chatting excitedly, too caught up in the fantasy to notice the cracks beneath it.
Then something unexpected happened.
As if sensing his unease, the young princess beside him gently reached out and took his hand. Her fingers were small and warm, her grasp sincere.
Logan looked down at her in surprise.
She met his gaze with a soft, bittersweet smile—one that didn't belong to someone so young.
"Hero," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, "I hope you can help us. These people and I really… really need your help. Please, Hero Logan… help me and my family."
Her words hung in the air like a plea. Her eyes shimmered with a mix of hope and hidden sorrow as if she already knew how heavy the title of "Hero" truly was.