Chapter 6
[Embercrown13th (13/8), Year 1356 of the Arcane Calendar]
| 10:00 AM |
-
-
[ Lunthaler manor, heritage block ]
Hmmm...
Cornelius, why am I here again? Talk, you jerk!
I walked in all confidence, but now I'm lost; I have no plan at all.
I could sense Calix's stare burned into my back from across the room, heavy, watching every move, probably guessing what I'd pick.
I moved deeper into the mess of relics, sneaking out of his sight behind tall shelves.
The room felt like a creepy old warehouse, thick with the smell of dusty books and cold metal.
To the left, racks of weapons and armor glinted faintly under flickering lanterns, swords sharp, chest plates from long-gone ages.
To the right, aisles stretched like the ones you can find in a shop, stuffed with crates, boxes, and trunks overflowing with yellowed scrolls, tattered clothes, and paintings wrapped in spiderwebs, their frames dark with age.
As I wandered through the aisles, one thing snagged my eyes, pulling me away from the stacks of books I wanted to take. They were probably packed with knowledge that could save my ass in this world, but nothing is easy; the weird language they were written in was enough to rot my brain.
My eyes caught a glass case, a slim rapier inside, its silver blade glowing like it was calling my name. I felt it in my chest, a pull. This is it, right, Cornelius? My cheat weapon, the one you meant? I asked inwardly, waiting for him to answer.
The murmurs came back,
... ar... shhh... you... kzz... serio-...
What? Say it again, I snapped in my head, knowing by now he could hear my thoughts.
Kzz... are you... kzzz... retarded?...
I stopped cold, jaw tight. Did I hear that? Kzz... you... shh... mage... kzzz... idiot.
It hit me like a revelation. Right, Kyzen's a mage, not a knight.
My blood pounded, veins popping. "Bitch!", the word slipping out loud.
Cough, cough. Okay, Mage, fine. But what if my Veyl runs out? What if an assassin gets close? I need a weapon! I argued in my head, mad as hell.
Kzz... tired... shhh... stop... kzz... enough... kzzz... take it.
His words stabbed my brain, my body shaking, ready to collapse. It seemed like hearing him caused some sort of strain.
I stumbled through the aisle, searching for the box. There, on a shelf between a cracked mask and a pile of torn cloaks, a small wooden box, carved with a simple yet creepy symbol.
A crescent moon, but inside it, an eye with swirling lashes, staring out like it saw my soul. The more I looked, the colder I got, like it was pulling me into a dark pit, whispering things I wasn't ready to hear.
Blink Blink Blink Blink Blink Blink Blink
Thud. The box slammed to the ground, my hair standing up like needles.
Blink.
This time it was me who blinked.
Sweat dripped down my face, but the air felt cold, so cold it burned, enough to make me subconsciously question why my sweat didn't freeze. My throat tightened, a shaky gulp as I tried to calm down.
One, two, three, One, two, three. I counted breaths, grabbing the box, its wood too smooth, almost alive under my fingers.
Haha, I laughed, the sound weak, bouncing off the walls. Just my mind messing with me, right? Too tired, like Cornelius said. No way that box winked at me.
Click. The lock popped open, easy but heavy, like opening a coffin. I lifted the lid, heart racing, and stared inside. "Really? These? Not that rapier?" My voice broke, shocked. Maybe I grabbed the wrong box.
Kzzz... it's them... sh...
Both my knees slammed the floor with a sharp thump; the hand not clutching the box saved my face from getting smashed into the stone.
Blood gushed from my nose, splattering the cold floor, my head spinning like a wild top. "Stop, enough!" I gasped, fingers tightening around the box. "I'll take it, just shut up!"
I looked to my right and grabbed some old cloth, using it to wipe the blood that was still dripping from the nose.
I walked over to Calix, clutching the strange wooden box, its crescent-and-eye symbol seeming to pulse faintly under the dim light of the heritage block.
I flipped open the lid to cover the artifact.
A pair of gloves, their leather dull
. His face twisted with a flicker of surprise, a hint of understanding, and a deep crease of confusion as he stared at what I held. "I see," he said, his voice low, almost cautious. "I didn't know we still had these types of gloves tucked away in here."
Being a mage, I'd picked these, hoping they'd suit me. Please let this be right, I thought, my stomach knotting. I had no clue what these gloves even did. Cornelius's sharp nudge—calling me a mage, not a knight—rang in my head, so these had to boost my magic somehow. But they just looked... plain? Like something you'd find in a dusty thrift shop, not a vault of ancient relics.
The air felt thick, heavy with the musty reek of old paper and metal, as if the room itself was watching, judging my choice.
Calix's eyes narrowed, studying me like he could see through my skull. "Yes, those will cut your casting time," he said, his tone steady but edged with warning.
"But I recommend you train hard to speed up your spells without them. In a battle, anything can happen—relying on artifacts alone is a fool's gamble". A spark of clarity hit me. So that's what these do. My mind raced, piecing it together. From Kyzen's memories, I knew artifacts like these were rare, made with knowledge from magic older than the manor itself.
Calix leaned closer. "Not many of these exist anymore, Kyzen. Be careful showing them in the open. Thieves would kill for less." The words hung heavily, like the cold air clinging to the stone walls, where every sword and dusty painting seemed to whisper of forgotten betrayals.
-
-
-
"Stay healthy, Father, Mother," I said, standing by the silver-decorated cart, its ornate carvings catching the sunlight like shards of ice.
I'll write to you whenever I can.
Diana's eyes softened, but worry etched her face as she stepped closer. "Stay safe on the journey, Kyzen. Don't eat random food; you might upset your stomach. And be wary of robbers and bandits. Keep your eyes sharp, always." Her words trembled, each one heavy with a mother's fear, as if she saw shadows lurking in every corner of the road ahead.
Calix placed a steady hand on her shoulder, his touch calming her like the warmth of a hearth. "Our trained knights and a mage are going with him, Diana. Don't worry—he'll be safe."
His black eyes met mine, steady as stone yet softened with trust. With a slight tilt of his head, he added, "Do you have your wallet? If you need money, withdraw from your passbook. And write me a letter—I'll add funds to your account if needed."
His voice lowered, carrying a quiet gravity. "And keep those gloves safe, son."
A small, demanding voice piped up from below, sharp as a bell.
"Brother!" Lisa's pout puffed her cheeks like a dumpling, her red hair bouncing as she stomped her foot. "I'll write you letters, but you'd better reply fast, or I'll tell Lena!"
I knelt to her level, a grin creeping up as I pinched her chubby cheeks, tugging them gently until she swatted my hands, annoyed. "If you snitch to Lena," I teased, letting a sly smirk curl my lips, "I'll tell her you learned to climb trees with me because you couldn't wait for her. Wonder how she'd feel about that?"
I leaned in, mimicking Lena's dramatic flair. "Oh, Lisa, how could you betray me like that?"
Lisa let out a nervous giggle, scratching her cheek, her eyes darting away. She's got Lena's spark, alright, I thought, catching the same wild energy Diana carried in her youth.
To my left, Luca stood quiet, his red hair messy, his narrow eyes fixed on the ground. I could feel his sadness, heavy as the.
I reached out, ruffling his hair to snap him out of it. "Take care of Lisa, okay?"
He gave a single nod, his voice barely a whisper. "Okay."
I straightened, turning to the cart where Anna waited inside, her apron crisp despite the long day.
Charles was on a horse with other 4 other knights and a mage, going with me, it was going to be a 5-day journey to a neighboring land, a demesne.
Neigh...
I leaned out the window, waving my hand as the coachman cracked the reins. Fixing my posture to comfort myself against the seat, I thought about the journey. To reach the academy, I would have to cross nine counties.
Counts typically govern a county, a large administrative region granted by the royal family. Within the county, they hold personal lands, often called the demesne, which are for their own income and resources. These lands were not sub-granted to barons or other vassals but were worked by peasants, serfs, or hired labor.
But some counties used these lands and turned them into bustling towns, growing them into major cities over time. I was headed to one such demesne, Valco, a thriving hub carved from ambition and steam. From there, I'd board a locomotive, steaming straight to Zyvaris kingdom, where Celestara Academy was located and Zack's family lived.
Haa, just thinking about the trip made my bones ache with exhaustion. The thought of those loud engines and the long ride ahead felt heavy.
Why didn't I get here when cars and Uber were invented?
-
-
-
The journey through various towns and villages proved engaging, each stop revealing more of this world's setting. At a town, an innkeeper regaled us with tales of wrestling a dire wolf, a claim I doubted but indulged over plates of succulent roasted boar, the finest meal of the whole trip by far. In another town, at a bustling market, a merchant attempted to sell me a "genuine phoenix feather" at a scammer-approved price. Realizing I'd forgotten an umbrella—a necessity given Zyvaris' unpredictable rains—I approached a nearby vendor. He offered a sleek, folding umbrella with a polished brass frame that clicked softly when opened.
After some haggling, I gave him 2 Shill; the umbrella itself was worth 20 Pence. The umbrella would be worth about £10 back home. Tucking the change into my leather wallet alongside the 15 Sterling and 15 Shill notes Father had provided for my semester at Celestara Academy.
The currency, as I remembered, is crafted from Earvine, a Solmordis plant that sheds fibrous leaves naturally after each season. These leaves are processed into durable, lightweight paper notes, widely accepted across Aserath, Zyvaris, and Solmordis due to their alignment with druidic and elven principles of using only naturally fallen materials and not damaging nature as much as possible.
For significant expenses, such as my studies, the Lunthaler family maintains accounts with the Grand Unified Bank, a prestigious institution with branches in major cities like Bristol. Managed by merchant guilds and overseen by the kingdoms' treasuries, the bank employs Veyl-ledgers—enchanted records that glow faintly with magical script to prevent fraud. As the baron's son, I can request additional funds via signed notes or bank chits, ensuring I have ample resources for books, travel, and necessities during the semester.
The currency system is uniform across the three kingdoms:
1 Sterling equals 20 Shills, and 1 Shill equals 12 Pence.
-
-
-
[ Valco city, Location-Unknown]
After the long 4 fucking days of clack clack clack clack, the relentless rhythm of the carriage wheels, my pounding against the uneven road, my mind had already gone mad by the incessant clack clack clack repeating in my head.
The carriage finally stopped in front of a large castle, its towering spires and intricate stonework gleaming faintly under the silver moonlight—a grand architecture that Buckingham Palace seemed pale and modest in comparison. It was already dark outside, the air cool and crisp.
Stepping down from the carriage, my boots crunched against the gravel, and I was greeted by a group of servants from the castle. Some, I vaguely recall from Kyzen's memory. As I reached to offer a gesture of acknowledgment, a flicker of instinct told me to hold back, my hand pausing mid-air. One servant, clad in a crisp livery of deep burgundy, took the initiative and spoke, his voice smooth yet formal, carrying the weight of practiced courtesy:
"Mr. Lunthaler, I hope you had a pleasant journey. You must be exhausted. Before we show you to your room, please follow us. Our lord has been waiting for your arrival."
I nodded, my neck stiff from hours of travel, casting a glance behind me. The servants were unloading the luggage. My eyes focused on Charles as I signaled to the luggage. Understanding my intent to look after them, he gave a simple nod.
Walking through the castle's cavernous halls, our footsteps echoed off the polished marble floors, the sound swallowed by the vastness of vaulted ceilings adorned with gilded frescoes. Tapestries depicting ancient battles swayed faintly as we passed, their rich colors muted in the dim glow of sconces. We stopped before a grand, tall, and sturdy door, its dark oak surface carved with intricate vines and heraldic beasts, exuding an aura of unyielding strength. The man beside me, his voice low and expectant, said, "You may enter anytime." He says anytime, but I can tell he wants me to go in now.
As I stepped toward the towering double doors, two knights stationed in front, their armor gleaming with a faint metallic sheen, pushed each door inward.
Creak...
---
Embercrown 12th, Year 1356.
Damn these stupid carts. What do you do once you're in a damn cart? It's boring as fuck. I can't do shit. It was so boring that I found amusement in a kid who tripped on the ground and fell headfirst onto the ground. I know I'm not a great guy, but Evie is worse. She would openly start laughing at him for sure, pointing fingers at him too, I bet it.
I just remember, I guess, that the old man is going to test my resilience against his presence again. That old guy should just die already. I mean, he's 74 years old. I'm already pissing myself thinking about the spiritual release he's going to make me go through. It's somewhat like the aura the main characters have. It depends on how strong and developed one's spirit sphere is.
---