The sun rose lazily over the village, casting soft golden light across the moss-lined rooftops and cobbled paths. The tranquility was deceptive—beneath the calm surface, Kael's world was shifting.
Two days had passed since the letter from Aldervale Royal Academy arrived. The quiet countryside of Durnholme had never seemed so small, so distant from what lay ahead. Kael stood in the yard, adjusting the straps of his travel pack as Dren inspected the condition of his boots.
"You'll need to get these resoled when you get to the city," Dren grunted. "Capital streets chew through soles like they're paper."
Kael gave a nod, distracted. He looked out toward the forest line, beyond the hills—toward the future he couldn't yet imagine. Behind him, the house door creaked open.
Lira stepped out, a parcel in her hands wrapped in faded blue cloth. "I packed you some dried meat, honeyed nuts, and those herb cakes you like. Also, two extra pairs of socks. Don't laugh. Cold feet ruin a day faster than anything."
Kael smiled and took the bundle, tucking it carefully into his pack. "Thanks, Mom."
She reached out and brushed his hair back, as if still unsure he was truly leaving.
"I can write every week," he offered.
"Every week," she echoed. Her voice trembled.
Dren stepped aside, giving them space. "We'll be fine," he added quietly. "Just keep your head straight and stay out of politics. Nobles love twisting words like vines around necks."
Kael nodded. "I'll remember."
The sound of hooves on stone reached their ears then. A light, swift rhythm. Moments later, a modest carriage rolled into view, its sides marked with the Virelle family crest—a silver phoenix against a midnight backdrop. Seated beside the driver was Elira, her cloak fluttering behind her, a warm smile on her face as she spotted Kael.
Kael turned to his parents one last time.
"I'll make you proud."
"You already have," Lira whispered.
Dren pulled him into a brief, firm hug. "Go show those snobs what a backwoods kid can do."
Kael grinned and jogged toward the carriage. Elira leaned down, offering her hand as he climbed aboard.
"You didn't tell me you were a noble," Kael said as he settled into the seat.
"I didn't think it mattered," Elira replied. "And I didn't want you to look at me differently."
"I don't," Kael said, after a beat. "Still should've told me, though."
She smirked. "Fair enough."
The carriage rumbled forward, pulling them away from the only home Kael had known. He watched the village disappear behind them, feeling the weight of both sorrow and anticipation in his chest.
The first leg of their journey took them through dense woodlands and winding trails. The driver, a quiet man named Orrin, kept a steady pace. Elira and Kael sat side by side, occasionally glancing out the windows or stealing quiet looks at each other.
"How did your father react?" Kael asked during one of the quiet stretches.
Elira leaned back, her expression distant. "He was surprised I wanted to sponsor someone. But when I told him what we went through… he understood."
Kael looked down at his hands. "Thanks. For everything."
"You earned it," she replied softly. "You didn't just fight beside me, Kael. You saved my life more than once. This is nothing in return."
Silence settled again. Outside, the scenery shifted from wild woods to more cultivated roads—markers of approaching civilization.
Three days later, the carriage reached the outskirts of the capital.
Kael leaned forward, eyes wide.
The Royal Capital of Aerendale sprawled across the valley below, its white stone buildings catching the morning sun like polished bone. Towering spires and arches rose in the distance, bridges spanning across canals and elevated walkways. The banners of dozens of noble houses fluttered above high walls.
Aldervale Royal Academy sat nestled near the western ridge, separated by its own walls and wards. From here, Kael could see the gleaming marble towers, the great courtyard at its heart, and the arched gate of black iron engraved with ancient runes.
"Welcome to Aerendale," Elira said, her voice soft.
Kael stared, unable to summon words.
The carriage wove through the city, drawing curious looks as it passed. Orrin guided them toward the academy's outer courtyard, where students and staff moved in a stream of motion—robes, tunics, sparring gear, tomes, and blades all mingled in a blur of color and purpose.
They were met at the gates by a steward in silver-trimmed robes.
"Lady Elira Virelle," he greeted with a bow, then turned to Kael. "And you must be our sponsored student. Welcome to Aldervale."
Kael nodded slowly, trying to absorb it all.
"You'll be given quarters in the western dormitories. Your gear and supplies have been arranged. Orientation begins tomorrow at dawn."
"Thank you," Kael managed.
The steward gestured for attendants to take their luggage. As Kael stepped forward, Elira remained at his side.
"You ready?" she asked.
Kael took one last look at the gates, the banners, the sprawling world beyond.
"No," he said with a grin. "But let's go anyway."