Wood cracked against wood in a steady rhythm as Vel and Celia circled each other in their usual practice spot. Sweat trickled down Vel's neck while he tracked Celia's movements, analyzing her stance for openings.
Celia lunged forward, her practice sword a blur. Vel ducked under the strike, but before he could counter, cold wood pressed against his ribs. Celia stood over him, a triumphant grin on her face.
"You're too fast for me, Celia. I can barely process what happened." Vel rubbed his side where her sword had touched.
"You are good at analytics, Vel, and even strategy that puts me in a pickle sometimes," Celia lowered her sword, wiping her brow. "But instinct is not your strong point and in real fight, it decides life and death."
They sat in silence, catching their breath. The same thought seemed to cross both their minds - their current practice routine had hit its limit. They needed something more, someone experienced to guide them. Perhaps one of the adventurers could teach them proper techniques. Without fresh perspective, they'd keep repeating the same patterns, unable to grow beyond their current abilities.
Vel traced another pattern in the dirt, his mind racing through possibilities. The adventurers who passed through Elnor had real combat experience - their movements carried weight and purpose that practice alone couldn't teach. If only...
"Maybe we could ask the adventurers passing through to teach us?" Vel voiced his thought.
Celia let out a small laugh. "They wouldn't waste time on kids like us. Most of them are busy with quests or missions."
"Yeah…," Vel nodded. His mind had already reached the same conclusion, but he wanted to hear her perspective. Sometimes talking things through revealed angles he hadn't considered.
The wind rustled through nearby trees as Vel fell silent. A deeper debate warred within him. He'd been carefully maintaining his image as a normal child, enjoying the simple rhythms of daily life. But he possessed something that could change everything - his magic.
The thought of revealing his abilities made his stomach knot. It would complicate things, draw attention he'd been avoiding. Yet the future marched forward regardless of his wishes. The Academy loomed ahead, where hiding his talents would become impossible.
Vel gripped his practice sword tighter. "Celia, I have something to tell you..."
Vel hesitated before setting down his practice sword, watching Celia's face.
"Celia, do you remember the ossuary incident?"
She frowned. "Of course I do. You scared everyone half to death." Her scolding tone was softened by concern.
Vel shifted uneasily, heart pounding. "Something happened after that. While I was unconscious that week."
"What do you mean? You've seemed fine since then."
He stepped back and raised his hand toward a tree. Energy hummed through him like electricity seeking release. His voice took on an otherworldly resonance as he spoke:
"Zetahn Feryis Crystallum."
The words echoed strangely, vibrating the air. A shimmering ice lance materialized and shot into the tree trunk with a crack. Frost spread from the impact in delicate patterns that sparkled in the sun.
Celia stumbled backward, her practice sword hanging loose. She stared at the ice, speechless.
"What... what was that?" she finally managed, eyes darting between him and the frozen spear. "Vel, how did you do that?!"
He lowered his hand, pulse racing as he met her shocked gaze. "It's... magic," he said simply, still barely believing it himself despite days of secret practice.
Celia's shock transformed into curiosity as she circled the frozen tree trunk. "Are you... are you magic-born?"
Vel tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
"Only those with sorcerer bloodlines can use magic at such a young age, before attunement," she explained, running her fingers over the crystalline patterns. "At least that's what I heard from Clara-neesan."
Vel considered his response carefully. The truth about his abilities would raise too many questions. "I think something happened in the ossuary," he said, keeping his voice measured. "Maybe I gained attunement there. It would explain why I can suddenly use magic."
Celia nodded, accepting his explanation without challenge. Magic wasn't her area of expertise, after all.
"But wait, there's more," Vel said, raising his hand again. "Aquas Oscillum!"
A sphere of water materialized and splashed against the frozen trunk, washing away some of the frost. He'd crafted this spell by studying and combining aspects from [Slow Heal] and [Ice Lance] magic circles.
"Remember our last sparring match with Kein?" Vel's voice softened. "I almost used this spell then, but I hesitated."
Celia's eyes widened as she watched the water trickle down. "You could have won that match!"
"Maybe," Vel admitted. "I just didn't think it would be fair."
Vel fidgeted with his practice sword, mind racing through possibilities. "I've been thinking... what if I combine magic with swordplay? Create a new fighting style. It could help me improve, and you'd get experience fighting against something unique."
Celia's eyes lit up with recognition. "Clara-neesan mentioned something similar once - swordmages. They use both magic and weapons, though their spells aren't as powerful as pure mages. Jack of all trades, master of none, she called them."
Something about that description nagged at Vel. In his memories as Giri, swordmages weren't exactly a class - more like players combining different skills for versatility. The proper term was battlemage, since it wasn't limited to swords. But why did that work for players and not for people here? Had something changed in this world?
"Maybe I should just focus on being a mage instead," Vel mused aloud, watching Celia's reaction. "Though that wouldn't really be sparring anymore. What do you think?"
Celia tapped her wooden sword against her leg, considering. "It's your choice, but..."
"Do you know why they can't excel at both?" Vel interrupted, genuinely curious about her perspective. The disconnect between his game knowledge and this reality's limitations bothered him. Either something fundamental had changed, or there was a reason people chose to specialize that he hadn't considered.
Celia shrugged, her practice sword swaying idly. "I never really thought about it. Clara-neesan just said that's how it is."
Vel's mind raced through the possibilities. In theory, mastering both magic and swordplay should make someone twice as formidable. Unless there was some kind of limitation preventing NPCs from reaching their full potential in both areas.
He recalled his experiences as a game developer. Player characters often had higher power ceilings than NPCs, able to break through normal limitations. Some builds only became viable in the late game, after unlocking specific talents or skill combinations that created powerful synergies.
His earlier spellcasting brought another thought. From a tactical perspective, why would someone with powerful ranged magic want to close distance for sword combat? And if you were able to close distance with techniques like Thunderclap, what advantage would casting spells provide?
"Maybe it's about efficiency," Vel muttered, more to himself than Celia. "If you're good at fighting from far away, getting close just puts you at risk. And if you're already up close..."
He trailed off, remembering how the ice lance spell had drained his energy. Each casting required focus and mana - resources that could be better spent on pure martial techniques in close combat.
"What was that?" Celia asked, leaning closer.
Vel's mind raced as he pieced together the puzzle. He'd seen Von practicing in the courtyard—fluid movements that seemed to draw energy from the air itself. Those weren't just simple sword techniques; they consumed mana, just like his spells did.
"I think I understand now," he said, catching Celia's attention. "It's about resources. Both magic and sword arts use mana."
He gestured with his practice sword, mimicking Von's movements. "When Father uses sword arts, he's not just swinging a blade. He's channeling power through specific motions, like how I use words to shape spells."
Celia's eyes widened with interest. "So that's why you can't master both? Because they drain the same energy?"
"Exactly!" Vel nodded eagerly. "Think about it—spells need incantations. You have to speak the words clearly, precisely. But sword arts..." He demonstrated a quick slash. "They flow from your body's movement. In the heat of battle, which would be faster? Speaking a spell or letting your body react?"
He watched understanding dawn on Celia's face as she processed his words. A sudden idea struck him, and he couldn't help but grin.
"Hey, Celia-chan," he said, excitement coloring his voice. "What if we asked my father to teach you sword arts? Since we're looking for ways to improve anyway?"
Celia's eyebrows shot up. "Your father? Would he really...?"
"Why not? He's already teaching me the basics, and you're way better with a sword than I am."
Celia's expression shifted, a familiar shadow crossing her face. "Clara-neesan knew so many sword arts..." Her voice trailed off, the memory of her missing sister still raw. But determination quickly replaced the sadness in her eyes. "Learning sword arts would be amazing."
She paused, brow furrowing. "But wait, what about attunement? If sword arts use mana like magic, wouldn't I need to be attuned first?"
The question caught Vel off guard. It made perfect sense - if both systems drew from the same well of power, then Celia would need the right affinity to unlock those abilities. Just like how Landre's light attunement had opened the path to her healing magic.
Vel tapped his practice sword against his leg, mind racing through what he knew about the magic system. "That's... actually a really good question."
He straightened up, shouldering his wooden blade. "Father would know better than anyone. He's probably at his guard post now."
"Are you sure we should bother him while he's working?" Celia asked, but her eager tone betrayed her interest.
"He always says questions about combat are never a bother." Vel gestured toward the guard station. "Besides, I want to know the answer too."
"You what?"
Von's voice carried the low rumble of suppressed incredulity. His hand hovered near the hilt of his blade, an unconscious gesture that betrayed his thoughts.
Vel straightened his posture, meeting his father's intense gaze. "I'm asking if you can teach Celia-chan sword arts." He spoke quickly, sensing the weight of Von's reaction. "We've been trying to improve, but... it feels like we've hit a wall. I thought maybe—"
Von raised a hand, cutting him off. His eyes flicked briefly to Celia, who stood just behind Vel with her practice sword resting across her shoulder. Her expression was a mixture of curiosity and unease under Von's scrutinizing stare.
Von exhaled slowly through his nose, leaning forward and clasping his hands together atop the table. "Vel," he began carefully, "do you have any idea what you're asking? Sword arts aren't some basic drills or sparring techniques. They go beyond just swinging a blade."
Vel swallowed but didn't waver. "I know that," he replied earnestly. "But isn't that exactly why we need to learn them? We want to get better—stronger."
Von's gaze shifted again to Celia, who stood a little straighter under the attention. He studied her carefully before speaking again.
"Celia-chan," he said, his tone measured but firm, "do you understand what sword arts are capable of?"
Celia blinked at the question but nodded hesitantly. "Not really... but I know they're powerful."
Von shook his head slightly and tapped a finger against the table for emphasis. "A single Wind Cutter," he said slowly, as though testing their understanding with each word, "can slice through solid stone—or worse—if wielded recklessly."
The room seemed to grow quieter as those words hung in the air. Celia's grip on her practice sword tightened slightly.
Von leaned back again and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes returned to Vel, narrowing slightly as if searching for any hint of doubt in his son's resolve.
"This isn't something you can take lightly," he warned, his voice carrying an edge now. "If I were to teach her—even just the basics—I'd need to be sure she understands how dangerous this is."
Vel nodded quickly, determination gleaming in his eyes despite the weight of Von's words.
Von studied him for another moment before shifting his focus back to Celia once more.
Von's expression remained steady as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Besides," he said, his voice calm but deliberate, "it's not guaranteed that she will be able to learn it. How should I put it..." He paused, tapping a finger against the edge of the table thoughtfully before continuing. "There are two techniques that I know—Air Cutter and Whirlwind. Do you see the connection?"
Vel tilted his head slightly, processing the names. Wind Cutter and Whirlwind. Both techniques had a distinct element tying them together—air.
Von nodded as if reading Vel's thoughts. "What I know relates to air element" His tone shifted subtly, almost apologetic as he added, "If you were to show me the exact movements for something like Fire Slash or Thunderclap, I still couldn't use them."
Vel blinked, absorbing the explanation. His mind raced as pieces began falling into place. So Von is attuned to Air? That realization clarified so much about his father's techniques and style—fluid yet cutting precision that mirrored wind itself. It also introduced a new variable.
Vel glanced at Celia out of the corner of his eye. If Von's sword arts were intrinsically tied to Air magic through his affinity... then Celia's success would depend on her own attunement.
It clicked in Vel's mind like a puzzle piece snapping into place: It means Celia's affinity might be different.
Vel stepped closer to Celia, close enough that she took a small step back, her cheeks flushing pink at the sudden proximity. He focused his attention above her head, willing the status window to appear.
"What are you—" Celia started, but Vel barely heard her as he concentrated on the floating text that materialized:
Celia Freznoria
HP: 45/45
MP: Unknown
Vel's eyes narrowed as he tried to access more detailed information about her status, particularly her affinity chart. Instead, an error message appeared before him:
Unable to view details status, require [Appraisal]
Vel's jaw clenched in frustration. He almost cursed out loud at whoever designed this system—at himself, really, though he couldn't explain that to anyone here. The debugging item he'd used to save Landre had given him temporary access to detailed status information, but now he was locked out of seeing Celia's affinities.
He stepped back, trying to mask his irritation as confusion instead. This limitation complicated things.
Celia flushed crimson and leaned away, gripping her practice sword tighter. "W-what's gotten into you, Vel?!" she stammered, her voice higher than usual.
Vel blinked, surprised by her reaction. He raised his hands in a placating gesture. "It's nothing," he said quickly, trying to sound casual. "I thought maybe... I could find some clues by looking at you."
Her brows furrowed, disbelief flashing on her face. She stared at him as if he'd sprouted another head. "Clues?" she repeated slowly, suspicion and embarrassment mingling in her voice. "What kind of clues?!"
Vel scratched his neck, avoiding her gaze. "You know... about attunement and stuff," he muttered, realizing how ridiculous it sounded.
Celia crossed her arms, her blush lingering as she huffed. "Well, staring isn't going to magically tell you anything," she snapped, her tone flustered rather than venomous.
Before he could respond, Von reappeared, his imposing figure casting a shadow over them. His sharp eyes flicked between them, settling on Vel with an unreadable expression.
"What exactly are you two doing?" Von asked evenly, though there was a hint of exasperation under the surface.
Vel straightened reflexively under his father's gaze. "Uh... just talking about sword arts," he explained hurriedly. He glanced briefly at Celia before continuing, "And whether or not we're still going to try learning them."
Von arched a brow at the statement but didn't immediately respond. Instead, he looked to Celia again, his intense scrutiny making her shift uncomfortably on her feet.
Finally, Von sighed deeply and folded his arms across his chest. "So," he said slowly, his tone carrying weight as though testing their resolve once more, "you're both still set on this idea? Learning sword arts—even knowing what it entails?"
Vel met his father's gaze head-on this time and nodded firmly. Celia hesitated for only a moment before doing the same beside him.
Von's lips pressed into a thin line as he regarded them silently for several long seconds.
The open field extended beyond Elnor's walls, a cool wind brushing Vel's face as he followed Von. Celia lagged behind, gripping her practice sword tightly, her bravado dimmed by Von's earlier words.
Von suddenly stopped and turned to them, his expression stern yet calm. He scanned the horizon before focusing on the two children and motioned for them to come closer.
"Out here," Von began, his voice low but firm, "no one can spy on us. No guards, no curious eyes. What I'm about to teach you isn't just dangerous—it's something that could get me questioned if people saw me teaching kids like you."
Vel exchanged a glance with Celia, who swallowed hard but nodded in understanding. The seriousness in Von's tone left no room for doubt.
Von unsheathed his blade slowly, its edge catching the light as he held it out before him. "Learning sword arts is easy," he said plainly, his eyes locking onto Vel's. "Achieving them? That's another story."
Vel furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"
Von planted his feet firmly into the ground and raised his sword in a practiced stance. His movements were deliberate, precise—a master showing his craft.
"You can see the movement," Von explained, shifting one foot back slightly and adjusting his grip on the hilt with both hands. "You can copy it." He tilted his head toward Vel and Celia. "And just like that, you'll think you know it."
He paused, letting the words hang in the air before continuing. "But if you're not attuned to the right element—if your mana doesn't resonate with it—nothing will happen."
Celia blinked at that revelation while Vel frowned thoughtfully, gripping his practice sword tighter.
"Once you know the movement," Von continued, his tone growing heavier with emphasis, "you need to practice it relentlessly—days in and days out—until it finally happens."
Without further preamble, Von demonstrated. His legs balanced evenly on both sides as he grounded himself. His hands gripped the sword firmly yet fluidly as he stepped one foot back in a smooth motion.
Then came the slash.
One swift arc cut through the air with precision followed immediately by another—a mirrored strike that carved invisible crescents into the space before him.
"Air Cutter!"
The shout echoed through the open field as twin crescent-shaped energy waves erupted from Von's blade. They sailed forward with startling speed before slashing cleanly through a tree branch in their path.
Vel and Celia stood frozen for a moment as leaves fluttered to the ground from above—the branch severed effortlessly by Von's technique.
Von lowered his blade and turned to face them once more. His eyes bore into theirs as if daring them to take this lightly.
"This is what you're asking for," he said quietly but firmly.
Vel's breath caught at the aftermath of Von's display—leaves strewn around the split branch. He gripped his practice sword tighter, its wooden surface anchoring him against what he'd seen.
Von sheathed his blade and faced them. "This," he said, motioning to the branch, "is just the start. Practice hones sword arts. Better form means stronger mana connection and deadlier attacks."
Vel's pulse quickened at his father's words. He glanced at Celia, who gaped at Von, her practice sword limp.
"But there's a catch," Von said, moving closer. He rapped Vel's wooden sword. "The weapon counts." His voice was stern but gentle. "Wood can't channel mana well—it's not conductive."
Celia frowned at her practice weapon. "So... even if I learn it," she whispered, "I'll need a better sword to make it strong?"
Von nodded. "Right. Quality steel or magical blades amplify power." He looked at Vel, who straightened. "But you can start here."
Vel nodded, determination rising despite their limits. He shifted his stance to copy Von's earlier pose.
Von moved behind him, adjusting his position with a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"Watch closely," Von said, guiding Vel through each step—foot placement, shoulder angle—then leading him in a slow slash.
"Feel it," Von urged as Vel swung in an arc like his father's.
No energy wave appeared, but Vel sensed... something.
Vel followed Von's movements precisely, his wooden sword cutting through empty air. No energy waves appeared, but something tingled in his arms—a ghost of potential.
"Father," he asked, lowering his practice sword, "do we have to shout the name every time?"
Von's lips quirked up. "No, but it helps for several reasons." He shifted his stance, demonstrating another clean slash. "First, for beginners, saying the name makes it easier to materialize the technique. Once you've truly mastered it, you can perform it silently."
He paused, adjusting Vel's grip. "Second, it's strategic. If I'm using Air Cutter from behind allies, they need to know it's coming." A small grin crossed his face. "And third—it sounds cool."
Vel couldn't help but smile at that last part. He readied himself again, feet planted firmly in the grass. Beside him, Celia mirrored his stance.
Together, they swung their practice swords in perfect arcs.
"Air Cutter!" Their voices rang out in unison.
A notification flashed in Vel's vision:
Air Cutter - Unlocked
An exclamation mark appeared in his Skill Panel, now featuring a new category for Sword Arts. When he focused on the icon, he noticed it differed from his spells. Instead of showing incantations, it displayed an empty progress bar below—visual proof of Von's words about needing constant practice.
Vel's mind raced as understanding clicked. In his old game, skills unlocked based on class level and assigned points. But here, mastery required genuine learning and practice. And what techniques you could learn depended entirely on your attunement.
Vel watched as Celia performed the exact same movements he had, her practice sword cutting through the air with precision. But unlike his attempt, where he'd felt that subtle tingle of potential, Celia's swing produced nothing—not even a stirring breeze.
Von nodded as if expecting this outcome. "This is why practice is important for swordplay," he explained, his voice carrying years of experience. "It's what puts many people off. Only the patient and dedicated can become true swordsmen." He crossed his arms, looking between them both. "And I'll tell you now—none of them are kids. If you truly want to master and discover your sword technique, wait a few more years. That should be about time to find out about your alignment."
The mention of future sparked something in Vel's memory—something important he hadn't shared with his father yet. He straightened his posture, gripping his practice sword tighter.
"Dad," he began, his voice clear despite his nervousness, "me and Celia will go to the Academy when we're old enough."
The words hit Von like a physical force. Vel watched various emotions flash across his father's face—surprise, pride, concern, and something deeper he couldn't quite read.
But then Von's expression shifted, a teasing glint appearing in his eyes. "Oh? You're saying you're planning to move out on your old man with a girl already?"
Heat rushed to Vel's cheeks at the implication. He glanced sideways at Celia, who had turned a brilliant shade of red, her practice sword nearly slipping from her grasp.
"T-that's not—" Vel stammered, while Celia became suddenly fascinated with adjusting her grip on her wooden blade.
Von's hearty laugh echoed through the field as he clapped a hand on Vel's shoulder, causing him to stagger.
"Alright, alright," he chuckled, ruffling Vel's hair. "Don't turn crimson like a beet, boy. I'm just messing with you."
Vel groaned, swatting his father's hand away, willing the heat from his face. He glanced at Celia, who avoided his gaze, gripping her practice sword tightly.
Von straightened and sheathed his blade. "Enough for today," he said, his tone shifting to calm authority. "Keep practicing. Don't rush—remember patience."
He adjusted his sword belt and glanced toward Elnor's walls. "I've got guard duty soon. You two head back before it gets late."
Vel nodded, grateful for the reprieve. "Got it, Dad."
Celia finally spoke, quieter than usual. "Thank you for teaching us... even if I didn't manage anything today."
Von turned to her with a small smile. "You'll get there," he said, then smirked. "Just don't let Vel slack off."
As Von walked toward Elnor's gates, Vel and Celia stood in awkward silence. The wind rustled the grass around them.
Vel glanced at Celia, finding her already looking back. They froze for a moment before quickly looking away.
"Uh... so..." Vel began, scratching his neck.
"Yeah," Celia cut in, shifting her weight. Her cheeks still faintly pink as she gestured toward Elnor. "We should—uh—head back... like your dad said."
Vel nodded too quickly, clutching his practice sword tighter as they walked side by side in silence. Though they spoke little, an unspoken determination to improve hung between them, along with a hint of lingering embarrassment they would never admit.
The morning sun filtered through the window as Vel savored each spoonful of his porridge. These shared breakfasts had become rare since Landre's consecration, her duties at the church claiming more and more of her time. But today felt different - all four of them together at the table, just like before.
"Pass the honey, please," Landre's voice carried a newfound melodic quality.
Vel handed over the jar, studying his sister's refined movements. Her gestures had changed since the consecration, each motion deliberate and graceful. Even the way she stirred honey into her porridge seemed to carry an air of ceremony.
"Remember when you tried to sneak into my consecration?" Landre's eyes sparkled with amusement. "The guards said they found you halfway up the cathedral wall."
Vel's cheeks flushed. "I just wanted to see what happened in there."
"And miss all the fun of hearing about it afterward?" Mari chuckled. "Though you did make us proud that day, Landre. Facing those trials all on your own."
Curiosity got the better of Vel. "What keeps you so busy at the church these days?"
"There's much to learn," Landre explained, her posture straightening. "Rituals, ceremonies, and even magic."
Vel perked up at the mention of magic. "What kind of magic?"
"Basic spells for now - mostly blessings and Light-based magic. The priests say I'm not ready for anything more advanced yet."
Vel fought back a knowing smile, mentally calculating the mana requirements she'd need. Part of him yearned to ask her to teach him these spells, but something held him back. After everything Landre had accomplished to earn her magic, it didn't feel right to simply ask for it.
Instead, he focused on his porridge, treasuring this rare moment of family togetherness.
Landre's gaze drifted to the side, her fingers tracing the edge of her teacup. The faint smile she'd worn moments ago faltered, replaced by something quieter, heavier.
"When I truly step into the role," she began softly, her voice carrying a fragile undertone that made Vel's chest tighten, "I might get... more busy. Maybe even called to other places—places like Lona."
The words hung in the air like a weight, pressing down on the warmth of the morning. Vel watched as Landre's hands clasped tightly together on the table. She wasn't looking at him, or anyone, really. Her eyes were fixed on some distant point that seemed far beyond the room they all sat in.
Von shifted in his seat, arms uncrossing as he leaned forward slightly. His gruff tone softened just enough to cut through Landre's lingering sadness.
"If that happens," he said evenly, "it's because you've earned it. And it won't mean you're leaving us behind."
Mari moved closer to Landre, placing a comforting hand over hers. The lines of worry etched into Mari's face eased as she smiled gently.
"We'll always be proud of you," Mari added quietly. "No matter where you go or how far."
A knot formed in Vel's throat as he watched his parents console Landre. Their words held love but also resignation—an understanding of the inevitability of the moment. It reminded him of Hanna, his sister from before, glowing with happiness on her wedding day while Giri smiled through the bittersweet ache of her absence.
Vel shifted uncomfortably in his chair and forced himself to speak through the memories clouding his thoughts.
"Lan-neechan," he started hesitantly, drawing her attention back to him. He tried for a grin, though it felt shaky at best. "Even if you're in Lona—or anywhere else—you're still my sister."
Landre blinked at him for a moment before her lips curved into a faint smile again. It didn't quite reach her eyes this time, but it was enough for Vel to feel like maybe—just maybe—he'd helped even a little.
The morning's tender moment shifted as Von cleared his throat, his eyes fixing on Vel with sudden intensity.
"Speaking of Lona, are you serious about going to the Academy, Vel?"
Vel met his father's gaze and nodded firmly. The question didn't surprise him - he'd been expecting even.
"Do you understand what that entails?" Von's voice carried the weight of experience. "You'll need lodging, work for daily expenses, and most importantly - tuition fees. That's what separates nobles from commoners, why most end up as guards or farmers instead of political figures or knights."
Vel's shoulders tensed. He knew the challenges ahead - had run the calculations countless times in his head. But solutions remained frustratingly out of reach. His silence spoke volumes.
Mari's spoon clattered against her bowl. "The Academy? When did you decide this?"
"I... I've been thinking about it for a while," Vel admitted, watching surprise bloom across both his mother's and sister's faces.
Landre set down her tea, her expression thoughtful. "Come to think of it, if I'm called to Lona in the future, at least I won't be alone there." A warm smile spread across her face. "I'd look forward to that."
"But the costs..." Mari began.
"I just have a feeling," Landre interrupted gently, "if it's Vel, he'll be fine if he puts his mind to it." Her eyes met Vel's, filled with unwavering trust. "He always finds a way."
Vel noticed Von's expression darken as their father leaned back, arms crossed, lost in thought. Vel's mind spun, trying to reconcile the Academy with Landre's earlier words about leaving.
Landre's focus drifted, her chin resting on her hand. Her golden braid caught the light, but she appeared distant and more tired than usual, hiding it well from their parents.
Mari cleared empty bowls and refilled cups from the clay pitcher, her precise but slow movements hinting at an unseen burden. Her smile didn't reach her eyes.
Finally, Von broke the silence with a low chuckle, shaking his head as if to dismiss an invisible weight. "Well," he said, leaning forward, "for some reason, people've been lookin' at me differently lately."
Vel raised an eyebrow, curious about what Von meant.
"Even my peers," Von continued, rubbing at his chin with one hand. "Ever since Landre got consecrated... seems like everyone in Elnor knows about it now."
Mari paused mid-motion near the stove and turned toward him with mild surprise.
Von smirked faintly and added with a touch of humor, "Even Lady Halen heard about it." He tapped a finger against the table for emphasis. "Guess bein' 'Father of Landre, Saint of Light,' has a nice ring to it after all."
Landre's cheeks flushed faintly at that remark as she cast Von a sheepish glance. Mari let out an unexpected laugh—a genuine one this time—as she shook her head fondly.
Vel couldn't help but grin slightly despite himself. He leaned back in his chair, feeling some of the tension in the room begin to dissipate under Von's joking tone.
"The farmers talk too," Mari said, amused. "I think they're more interested in gossiping about us than planting their crops lately."
Von shrugged but didn't argue.
Von tapped the table with a finger, his brow furrowed as though trying to piece together a puzzle only he could see.
"It could definitely help us moving forward," he said slowly, his voice measured. "Havin' weight in your words... people respect that. Respect her." He nodded toward Landre without looking up, still deep in thought.
Landre fidgeted with her braid, her cheeks pink from the indirect praise. She opened her mouth to respond but closed it again, unsure what to say.
Vel leaned back slightly, letting the moment settle around him. He watched his family—Mari wiping her hands on her apron as she returned to the table, Von's quiet contemplation, and Landre's delicate balance of embarrassment and pride. It all felt so... peaceful. Normal, even.
"This is nice," Vel murmured, a hint of wistfulness in his tone.
Mari glanced at him curiously, while Landre tilted her head. Von looked up briefly but remained silent.
With a small smile, Vel added, "The family together... just talking."
Landre nodded softly in agreement, and Mari gently patted his hand, her touch warm.
Von grunted acknowledgment before returning to his thoughts, but for a moment, Vel sensed a flicker of understanding in his father's gruff demeanor.
His gaze fell to his hands on the table, a strange ache rising within him as he recalled how much he'd missed moments like this—back when he was Giri. The simple joy of sharing meals and conversation, free from deadlines or corporate politics.
He exhaled slowly, trying not to dwell on those memories, focusing instead on the room's warmth—the sound of Mari's soft hums, Von's mutterings, and Landre's quiet presence.
Yeah... he would miss this one day too.
Von's boots clicked against the polished stone floor, each step echoing through the manor's corridor. The weight of his decision pressed heavier with each passing moment.
A shaft of morning light pierced through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the marble tiles. Von adjusted his collar, unused to wearing his formal attire instead of his usual guard uniform.
"This way," the personal guard motioned toward the courtyard pavilion. "Lady Halen will see you shortly."
Von stood under the ornate pavilion, the familiar urge to stand watch tingling in his muscles, though he was not on guard duty. He instinctively reached for a sword that wasn't there.
Before him sprawled a meticulously beautiful courtyard. Sunlight danced over colorful flower beds, their petals swaying in the breeze. Paved stone paths wound like ribbons between the manor buildings, all perfectly maintained.
At the far end, maids hung linens to dry, their movements precise. Others hurried along the paths with woven baskets and delicate tea sets, tending to their routines.
Von's throat felt dry. In all his combat experience, facing monsters and protecting others, he had never felt this kind of anxiety. The question he needed to ask had robbed him of sleep for days, turning in his mind like a restless beast.
His fingers drummed against his thigh as he waited, observing the orderly flow of manor life around him.
Von's gaze stayed fixed on the path to the manor, anticipation gnawing at him. The sun rose higher, illuminating Lady Halen's estate. Just as he thought of his family, a figure emerged from the main building.
Lady Halen glided through the door, her dark dress flowing like a shadow. Her silver hair framed her face, spilling down her shoulders, while a transparent veil obscured her features, adding to her mystique.
She walked slowly toward him, each step deliberate and graceful. Behind her trailed a female attendant, moving with practiced precision. Von straightened, forcing himself to focus.
As Halen approached, she gestured for him to sit, her smooth movement underscored by an authority that reminded him of her position in Elnor.
The attendant set a delicate tea set on the stone table before retreating. The clink of porcelain broke the silence as Von lowered himself into a seat.
"I appreciate you meeting me." He shifted slightly in his chair, trying to mask his unease.
Halen poured tea into two fine cups, steam curling upward in ephemeral shapes. She offered one to him, and he accepted it with both hands, reveling in its warmth.
"I understand your family has faced many challenges lately," she said gently. Her gaze was steady beneath the veil.
Von sipped the rich, aromatic tea, its bittersweetness grounding him momentarily. "It has been difficult," he admitted, recalling Mari's worried eyes and Landre's new burdens.
"What prompts this visit?" Halen observed Von's reluctance to begin speaking
Von's thumb traced the rim of his teacup. The floral pattern blurred under his calloused fingertip. "My son..." The words stuck like sap in his throat. "Vel. He's...shown interest in the Academy."
Halen's cup paused halfway to her lips. Steam curled around the edge of her veil. "The Lona Academy?"
"He's determined." Von set his cup down harder than intended, liquid sloshing near the brim. "Even after everything that's happened. The boy practices sword forms with sticks when he thinks we're not looking."
A swallow flitted past the pavilion, wings breaking the heavy silence. Halen's attendant appeared to refill their cups before Von could decline.
"You realize what you're asking." Her voice carried new weight. "The entrance exams alone require mastery that dismiss most of its candidates. Then there's the matter of..."
"Scholarship." Von's jaw tightened. "I served under Commander Yulric during the border wars. Earned my share of commendations."
"Commendations don't pay tuition." Halen's veil shifted as she leaned forward. "Even with a lord's recommendation, the fees would beggar most commoner houses. Your family barely..." She caught herself, teacup clinking against its saucer. "Why not apprentice him to Elnor's guards? I could arrange—"
"He needs more." Von's fist clenched on his knee. "The way he moves...the things he sees. That boy's got a spark I haven't seen since..." His throat worked.
Halen's silence stretched long enough that Von heard the distant clatter of kitchen pots. When she spoke again, her words fell like stones in a still pond. "You'd bind your son to the Academy's service? Their graduates don't return to provincial towns, Von."
Von's teacup trembled in his grip, sending ripples across the amber surface. Across the table, Halen's attendant froze mid-pour, droplets hanging suspended from the spout.
"He warned us about the Wulfang attack when grown men dismissed him as a frightened child." Von's voice roughened like bark under a whetstone. "Stood against that madman Trinon to save his sister without hesitation. Spends every day drilling sword forms in the kids square."
The swallow returned, landing on the pavilion's carved railing. Halen's veil tilted slightly as Von leaned forward, the chair groaning beneath him.
Halen's silver hair caught the sunlight as she turned to him, her intense gaze undimmed by the veil. "And if the Academy forges him into something you no longer recognize?"
Von met Halen's gaze, his resolve unshaken by her words. He noticed the concern on her face but felt a deeper understanding of his son—a fire burning bright within Vel.
"He's more than just a child," Von stated, voice steady. "Vel has a gift. I know it."
Halen regarded him thoughtfully, her veil shifting slightly with the breeze.
"And you believe that spark will survive the Academy's trials?" she questioned.
"I trust him." Von leaned forward, tension betraying his desire to convince her. "He fights not for glory, but for family." Thoughts of Vel's relentless training echoed the lessons of courage he had imparted.
Halen's expression softened slightly.
"You speak with certainty, yet..." She hesitated, choosing her words carefully.
Von pressed on, determination surging. "I'm here because I believe in his potential. I'm asking you to support him with a scholarship."
Silence thickened between them, filled only by distant sounds from the manor grounds.
Halen finally replied, her voice calm yet firm. "Scholarships are not given lightly."
Von nodded sharply, desperation creeping into his tone. "I would do anything in return—whatever it takes to secure his future there."
She raised an eyebrow, skepticism lacing her features as she studied him closely.
"But I need this to remain between us," he added quickly, urgency spilling forth. "I don't want Vel knowing I've put myself in debt because of him."
A flicker of surprise crossed Halen's face as she considered his words.
Von took a deep breath and continued with fervor. "He's already burdened with so much—his sister's situation and our family's struggles—he doesn't need to carry my debts as well." The idea tightened like a noose around his heart.
Halen's expression shifted; she weighed his plea against her own principles and responsibilities.
"You understand this is not simply charity," she cautioned.
"I do," Von insisted, feeling time slipping away from them like grains of sand. "But if we don't act now... If we don't give him this chance..."
Halen curled her fingers around the delicate teacup, her gaze drifting to the courtyard where blooming petals caught the light, momentarily infusing her thoughts with beauty.
Von's heart thundered as silence stretched between them like a taut bowstring, the distant clock ticking away, each second pulling him closer to an uncertain fate.
Finally, she turned her attention back to him, her expression unreadable beneath the veil. "You misunderstand my hesitation."
Von leaned forward, desperation rising within him. "Then tell me what it is."
"I do not think you have anything to offer in return for a scholarship," she replied evenly. "However..." She paused, allowing a contemplative silence to fill the space.
Von's brow furrowed, anticipation mingling with frustration. He held his breath as Halen continued.
"I know about Landre's consecration," Halen said slowly, her voice firm yet laced with a hint of intrigue. "If Vel were to achieve greatness at the Academy—if he were to prove himself—a dual legacy from Elnor would indeed be advantageous."
The realization struck Von like a bolt of lightning. He felt a glimmer of hope rise within him.
"Having two figures from Elnor could elevate my standing among the political factions," Halen continued, her tone now sharper. "That would be beneficial for both of us."
"What are you suggesting?" Von asked cautiously.
Halen straightened, fixing him with a steady gaze. "I will support Vel's scholarship on two condition: you and your family must swear loyalty to Elnor should tension ever arise."
Von opened his mouth but closed it again as he processed her words. Loyalty came at a price—an oath binding them to this town that had sheltered them after Oakhaven's fall.
She raised an eyebrow, watching him carefully as if gauging his reaction.
"Additionally," she pressed on, "Vel must pass a test to demonstrate he deserves this opportunity and is not wasting anyone's time—especially yours."
A flicker of doubt crossed Von's mind; was Vel truly ready for such trials? Yet he felt an undeniable surge of pride thinking about his son's determination.
"Are you willing to accept these terms?" Halen's voice was firm, but there was also an underlying current of challenge in her words.
Von considered Halen's terms carefully, the implications swirling in his mind like leaves in a storm. The stakes had risen beyond his intentions. Loyalty to Elnor—his family's new home—felt manageable, but binding them to a political allegiance was daunting.
"A test," he muttered, envisioning Vel facing an evaluation of his worthiness. The thought stirred both pride and apprehension. Could his son withstand such pressure?
He glanced at Halen, whose poised demeanor radiated confidence, unfazed by the gravity of the situation. If she believed in Vel's potential, perhaps he should too.
Taking a deep breath, Von nodded slowly, resolve settling within him. "I accept your terms."
Halen's lips curved slightly, acknowledging his decision. "Very well." She lifted her teacup, savoring the moment as if relishing victory.
"I will arrange the test soon," she continued steadily. "It will assess Vel's skills, character, and determination."
Her words resonated deeply. Von recalled the battles fought and sacrifices made for those he loved; now it was time for Vel to carve his own path.
"Thank you," he said sincerely, feeling gratitude despite their differing positions.
Halen inclined her head, acknowledging his thanks before adding, "Prepare him well; my support depends on what I see."
A firm nod followed as Von considered how best to guide Vel through this next chapter. With every challenge faced thus far, their bond had only strengthened—this would be no different.
As they sat together under the pavilion's shade, sunlight dappling across their surroundings, Von felt an ember of hope ignite within him for what lay ahead for Vel and their family in Elnor.