The morning sun, a painter's golden wash, spilled across the dew-kissed cobblestones of the Valdren estate, illuminating the intricate patterns etched into the ancient stones. The lazy chirping of unseen birds drifted from the leafy canopy atop the high stone walls, a peaceful counterpoint to the hurried footsteps of servants moving with practiced briskness. Their hushed voices and the creak of wooden crates filled the courtyard as they loaded supplies into a sturdy carriage, its dark wood panels gleaming with faint, silver runes.
Kael stood by the steps of the mansion, adjusting the belt of his new clothes. The unfamiliar fabric, though softer than his roughspun tunic, still felt like a costume.
Cedric emerged from the doorway, two meat pies in hand, chewing on one. "Here," he mumbled, crumbs flying, "breakfast of champions."
Kael caught it, blinking. "You always eat like that?"
Cedric grinned. "Only when I'm trying to impress someone."
Kael rolled his eyes but bit into the pie anyway. Surprisingly delightful — the crust flaked at his touch, releasing a warm, savory aroma that hinted at rich meat and herbs. "Not bad."
"Of course it's not bad," Cedric said, hopping up onto the carriage step. "Our cook's a goddess."
Erick approached, already dressed in a crisp red coat. "Cedric, you remember your instructions?"
Cedric nodded. "Escort Kael to Highridge. Don't lose him. Don't let him burn anything down."
Erick's gaze softened with a rare flicker of emotion. "Close enough." He turned to Kael. "Keep your head down, son. Highridge may not be as strict as Drakenshire, but it's still Vandor. And Vandor's people don't exactly take kindly to weakness."
Kael nodded. "I'll be fine."
Cedric snorted. "He says, knowing he lost to one of Dad's guards in two moves."
"I slipped."
"Sure you did."
"And i beat five of them back."
"Yeah yeah whatever loser."
With a creak and the rumble of wheels, the carriage set off through the outer gates, flanked by two mounted guards. Kael watched as the estate receded into the distance, the towering walls shrinking behind them.
Kael leaned against the cushioned carriage wall, gazing out through the small window. Fields stretched endlessly, dotted with trees and distant farmhouses. Birds swooped lazily overhead, their songs weaving into the rhythm of the wheels turning over stone.
Cedric, as usual, was far more energetic.
"You know," he said, tapping his fingers on the windowsill, "Highridge is a lot more colorful than Drakenshire. Don't get me wrong, our city has its charms, but Highridge feels more... alive. Like it actually enjoys being a city."
Kael blinked slowly. "So it throws parties?"
Cedric laughed. "Exactly! Less swords clashing, more music and performers. Still a warrior town, sure, but with flair."
Kael hummed. "Sounds exhausting."
"You're only saying that because you're still half-asleep."
Kael smirked faintly. In truth, nervous anticipation churned quietly in his chest. This was his first time outside of Drakenshire since the attack. The prospect of seeing a new city stirred something strange inside him.
The Archive's missions had kept his body moving and his mind sharp. His training with Erick and the guards had hardened his foundation. But now came the next step.
He glanced across at Cedric, who had grown uncharacteristically quiet.
"Something on your mind?"
Cedric shrugged. "Just thinking. About the Academy. The test. You're almost there. Really close."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "That's not the kind of thing you say with that expression."
Cedric grinned sheepishly. "Fine. I've never really seen anyone improve as fast as you did. Makes me wonder if the Academy is filled with people like you, what kind of monsters we're going to meet."
Kael's gaze drifted out the window. "Monsters, huh? Depends on your definition."
The road unfurled before them like a dusty ribbon between towering pines. Mountains clawed at the horizon. Occasionally, they passed traders in caravans, wagons groaning with goods.
Cedric stretched and leaned back, arms behind his head. "So. Nervous?"
Kael shrugged. "A bit. It's a lot to take in."
"You'll be fine. Just don't trip during the test."
Kael smirked. "Says the guy who lost to a training dummy."
Cedric held a hand to his chest. "Hey that was an accident. Who told you about that!"
"Hahahaha."
...
As the scenery shifted, rugged hills rolled into view, patched with thick grass and scrub. Small watchtowers dotted the horizon.
They stopped at a checkpoint to rest the horses. Kael stepped out, stretching. A breeze swept through, carrying a hint of spice and smoke — the scent of civilization.
By midday, the peaks of Highridge's outer walls came into view. Unlike Drakenshire's grim fortifications, Highridge's walls shimmered with faded gold paint. Banners flew from parapets in crimson, azure, and green — the colors of the local clans. The gates were wide open.
Kael's eyes widened as the carriage rolled through.
Highridge was indeed alive.
Street performers spun ribbons of fire and wind. Children darted with wooden swords. Market stalls overflowed with goods. The buildings were etched with carvings and murals. Laughter echoed. Flutes played. Merchants barked. Somewhere, a rooster crowed—twice.
Cedric leaned over. "Told you it had personality."
Kael, for once, didn't hide his intrigue. "It's definitely different."
"That's Highridge for you."
Flags snapped from rooftops. Enchanted lanterns danced above stalls. Performers twirled through crowded squares. Exotic instruments played. It was chaos. It was vibrant.
Kael stared, his breath catching at the sheer energy of it all.
Cedric whistled. "Nice right?"
Kael nodded slowly. "Yeah… it's incredible."
And somewhere, within that celebration, fate turned another page.