The northern winter had settled in fully, turning everything white and cold.
Arden stood in the training yard, watching the soldiers run drills.
They'd improved significantly. More disciplined. More dangerous.
Still not enough.
Never enough. Not with what's coming.
"Arden!" Brick called, approaching with his usual heavy footsteps. "You've received correspondence. Multiple letters."
"From?"
" House Valekrest. And... House Varen."
Arden took the letters, breaking the seals one by one.
First Letter - Duke Vareth Valekrest
Arden,
Your achievements continue to exceed expectations. The King has personally commended your work in the north—the dwarven alliance alone would be worthy of recognition, but your contributions to monster combat theory and your performance against the berserker clans have made House Valekrest a topic of considerable discussion at court.
The Imperial Academy has also released their mid-year rankings. I note with satisfaction that your legacy continues even in your absence—you would have ranked first had you remained enrolled.
However, I feel I should mention that a certain commoner, Kael Thorne, has taken first place. Undefeated in forty-seven consecutive matches. The instructors are calling him the greatest talent in a generation.
You and he are being compared frequently in common discourse. Some call you rivals. Others debate who would win in direct combat. I find such speculation beneath our house, but I thought you should be aware.
Continue your work in the north. You are proving the Valekrest name means excellence in all arenas—military, diplomatic, and intellectual.
Your father,Duke Vareth Valekrest
Arden read the letter once.
Father's actually proud. That's... new.
And Kael Thorne taking first place. Right on schedule.
The protagonist doing protagonist things. Plot progressing smoothly.
He felt no competitive fire, no burning desire to prove himself better.
Just... satisfaction that things were going according to plan.
Kael's at the Academy being a hero. I'm in the north preparing for apocalypse. Both doing what we're supposed to.
People comparing us? Let them. Doesn't change what needs to be done.
Second Letter - Imperial Academy Rankings
Imperial Academy - Mid-Year Combat Rankings (First Year):
1. Kael Thorne - 47 Wins, 0 Losses, 0 Draws
2. Adrian Castellan - 45 Wins, 2 Losses
3. Elena Brightshield - 43 Wins, 4 Losses
4-9: [Various nobles]
10. Lyanna Varen - 38 Wins, 9 Losses
Arden set the letter down.
Third Letter - House Varen
Lord Arden Valekrest,
My name is Lyanna Varen. You may know me as the younger sister of Elara Varen, who serves in your retinue.
I am writing to propose a business arrangement. My newly established Varen Trade Consortium seeks to expand into northern territories, specifically Frostholm and surrounding regions.
I understand you have recently secured an alliance with the dwarven holds and are in the process of establishing significant infrastructure. This presents unique opportunities for mutually beneficial trade.
I can provide:- Weapons and armor from central forges- Luxury goods for noble morale- Food supplies to supplement northern stores- Alchemical materials and healing supplies
In exchange, I seek:- Dwarven-forged goods (premium prices offered)- Access to northern trade routes- Partnership in future ventures
I await your response.
Respectfully,Lyanna VarenFounder, Varen Trade Consortium
Arden nodded approvingly.
Smart. Like Elara, but focused on economics instead of combat.
And she's right—economic power is real power.
"Garret," Arden called. "Bring me parchment. I'm accepting Lyanna Varen's proposal."
-------
The tavern was packed with workers, soldiers, and common folk.
All talking about the same two names.
"Did you hear? Thorne won again! Forty-seven in a row!"
"Undefeated! A commoner showing all those nobles what real skill looks like!"
"But have you heard about Valekrest? The one in the north?"
"The young lord? What about him?"
An older veteran leaned forward, his voice carrying authority.
"At thirteen years old, that boy fought berserker clans. You know berserkers? The ones that take whole companies to bring down?"
"I've heard the stories..."
"He led rangers and knights against them. Personally killed their chieftain in single combat." The veteran took a long drink. "Then he established an alliance with the dwarves—something no one's done in sixty years. Then he wrote theories on monster combat that the Academy is now teaching as standard curriculum."
Silence around the table.
"He's... he's thirteen?"
"Thirteen. Completed both ranger and knight training. Fights on the front lines. Commands respect from warriors twice his age."
"That's... that's insane."
"So you see why people are comparing them? Kael Thorne—the undefeated arena champion. Arden Valekrest—the northern prodigy who fights real wars."
A younger man shook his head.
"But which one's stronger?"
"Wrong question," another veteran interjected. "Thorne's the better duelist, probably. But Valekrest? He's thirteen and he's already commanding armies, forging alliances, changing how we fight monsters. That's different kind of strength."
"So who'd win in a fight?"
"Who cares? Point is, we've got two monsters in the same generation. One's a commoner proving birth doesn't matter. The other's a noble proving that some bloodlines earn their reputation." The veteran raised his mug. "Either way, we're lucky to have them. Because with monster attacks increasing, we're going to need every damn hero we can get."
"To Kael Thorne!"
"To Arden Valekrest!"
"To both of them keeping us alive!"
Mugs crashed together, beer flowing freely.
At another table, a group of merchants talked in lower voices.
"The Valekrest boy is the real story, in my opinion."
"Oh?"
"Think about it. Thorne's impressive, yes. Best duelist in a generation in my opinion. But Valekrest? He's building something. Infrastructure. Alliances. Economic foundations."
"He's also only thirteen."
"Exactly. At thirteen, he's thinking like a ruler. Like someone who understands that wars aren't won by individual champions—they're won by logistics, supply lines, and strategic partnerships."
"You think he's more dangerous than Thorne?"
"I think he's more important. Thorne can kill a hundred men. Valekrest can build an army of a thousand and ensure they're fed, armed, and properly deployed." The merchant leaned back. "One's a weapon. The other's a force multiplier."
"So you'd bet on Valekrest?"
"I'd bet on them working together. That's what smart people do—recognize complementary strengths."
------
The crowd was deafening.
"THORNE! THORNE! THORNE!"
Kael Thorne stood in the center of the arena, spear in hand, facing a third-year champion.
Wild brown hair tied in a ponytail. Handsome, mature features. Eyes that held both kindness and absolute confidence.
The match lasted twenty seconds.
Kael's spear moved like flowing snake—one feint, one pivot, one precise strike that disarmed his opponent completely.
"Yield," Kael said kindly, spear tip hovering near his opponent's throat.
"I... I yield."
The crowd exploded into cheers.
Kael helped his opponent up with that genuine, warm smile that made half the Academy fall in love with him.
"Good match. Your guard was solid."
The third-year looked dazed. "I didn't even see the final move..."
"Just practice. Nothing special." Kael scratched his head sheepishly. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."
'Nothing special' he says after destroying a third-year in twenty seconds, the opponent thought in disbelief.
In the stands, Adrian Castellan sat rigid, jaw clenched.
"Second place. Again."
His attendant tried to console him. "Lord Adrian, you're the youngest with sword resonance in—"
"I don't care about 'youngest.' I care about 'best.'"
"But Lord Adrian—"
"And now people are comparing him to that Valekrest in the north. Saying they're rivals. Saying they're both monsters of the same generation." Adrian's voice was tight with frustration. "I'm right here. Second place. And nobody even mentions my name in the same breath."
His attendant wisely stayed silent.
Adrian stood abruptly. "Double training sessions. I will not be forgotten."
Lyanna Varen sat in her private box, barely watching the match.
She was more interested in the financial reports spread across her lap.
"Lady Lyanna, Kael Thorne just won again—"
"I saw. Forty-seven victories. Impressive." She didn't look up from her numbers. "Irrelevant to my goals."
"Everyone's talking about him and Arden Valekrest. Saying they're rivals—"
"They're not rivals. They're operating in completely different spheres." Lyanna circled a profit margin. "Thorne's an arena champion. Valekrest is building an economic and military power base in the north. One is entertainment. The other is strategy."
"Which one do you think is stronger?"
"Wrong question. Ask instead: which one controls more resources?" She finally looked up, her calculating eyes studying the arena. "Thorne can defeat any single opponent. Valekrest secured a dwarven alliance that will produce superior weapons for decades. Which has more long-term impact?"
Her assistant nodded in understanding.
"Though I'll admit," Lyanna continued, returning to her work, "having both in the same generation is... interesting. If they ever work together, they'd be formidable."
She pulled out the letter she'd prepared for Arden.
Time to secure those northern trade routes.
-----
Elena Brightshield watched Kael with open admiration.
"He's amazing. So strong. So kind."
Her friend nudged her. "So completely oblivious to your very obvious crush?"
Elena blushed furiously. "I-I don't have a crush! I just admire his technique!"
"Sure. That's why you watch every single match."
Below, Kael was being mobbed by admirers—mostly female, but several males too—all trying to get his attention.
He smiled at each one with genuine warmth, completely missing every romantic overture.
"Kael, I made you lunch—"
"Oh, thanks! You're so thoughtful! I'm always hungry after fights!"
That was a confession attempt, Elena thought, watching the girl's crushed expression. How is he this dense?
--------
Arden set down the letters, feeling nothing particular about any of it.
Kael's dominating the Academy. Plot progressing as written.
People comparing us. Calling us rivals. Doesn't matter.
We're not rivals. We're not even playing the same game.
Elara entered without knocking—she'd gotten comfortable doing that after months of working together.
"The dwarves sent word. Forge construction ahead of schedule."
"Good."
"And we received a letter from my sister. She wants to establish trade routes."
"I'm approving it. Her proposal makes sense."
Elara studied him. "The Academy sent their rankings. You're being compared to Kael Thorne."
"I know. Read the letters."
"And?"
"And nothing." Arden's voice was matter-of-fact. "He's first place in arena combat. I'm building infrastructure in the north. Both are necessary. Both are on schedule."
"You really don't care about the comparison?"
"Why would I? We're preparing for different roles." Arden looked out at the frozen landscape. "Kael will be the champion. The symbol. The hero who inspires people. I'll be the foundation. The logistics. The boring strategist who makes sure heroes have supplies and support."
"That's very pragmatic."
"That's reality. Heroes matter. But so does infrastructure." He turned back to her. "Tell your sister I accept her proposal. Schedule a meeting for spring."
Elara nodded, but didn't leave.
"The common people are talking about you two. Saying you're monsters of the same generation."
"Let them talk. Morale is good when people believe in heroes. Doesn't matter if they believe in me or Kael, as long as they believe."
"You're very cold about this."
"I'm practical. There's a difference." Arden returned to his planning. "Now, about the Mana Heart Knight expansion..."
He looked at the calendar after Elara left.
The plot's progressing smoothly. Kael's becoming the hero. I'm building the foundation.
No need for rivalry. No need for competition.
Just two people doing what they need to do.
Though I wonder if he knows yet. About what he really is. The Seventh Shard of Brilliant Light.
Probably not. He's too busy being obliviously heroic.
Arden allowed himself a small smile.
That's fine. He'll figure it out when he needs to.
Meanwhile, I have three years to make the north unbreakable.
Better get to work.