The afternoon sun was high when Ardyn left the main hall.
The heat was piercing, but that wasn't what stopped people from staring.
Ardyn's shadow stretched across the sandy ground, and the dark sword in his hand made the shadow look like an additional body detached from him.
Ardyn's every step brought a small change in the air, not a physical change, but a change in atmosphere that slowly crept through the Vale settlement.
Talia Crestveil, a cloth weaver who was drying white thread, stopped her movements.
The thread hanging from his hand drifted in the wind, but his eyes were glued to the sword Ardyn was carrying. There was tension on his face, as if he was dealing with something unusual.
Across the street, Rowen Blackbarrel, a young blacksmith, stood in front of his small workshop.
His hand was still holding the hammer, but his attention was clearly not on the metal he was shaping.
He stared at the sword for a long moment, furrowing his brows, not out of fear, but because the shape of the blade defied his smithy's logic.
Ardyn could see how Rowen's eyes followed the lines of the sword with his mind working hard.
Furthermore, Jendrik Valehart, the outer training guard, immediately grabbed the hilt of his spear when he saw Ardyn passing by.
It was not an aggressive act, but a reflex habit of someone who was taught to assess threats more quickly than to think long and hard.
Ardyn walked past them without stopping. He felt what that gaze meant. Rumors had started to spread, even before the conversation in the hall had finished.
He knows that rumors always win over the truth, and people tend to believe in what makes them feel safe.
But Ardyn didn't care whether they were scared or confused. That reaction doesn't change the goal.
Soft footsteps sounded behind him. Seraphine followed, keeping a few steps away so that Ardyn wouldn't feel like he was being followed.
But Ardyn already knew where she was from the sound of her thin sandals slapping the road.
"Ardyn," called Seraphine in a low voice. "What are you going to do now?"
"Walk," Ardyn answered without turning around.
Seraphine quickened her steps to be level. "Not everyone can walk alone."
Ardyn looked straight ahead. "I'm not alone. The world is watching. That's enough."
Seraphine fell silent for a few steps. He wanted to argue, but couldn't find the right words.
He felt that Ardyn did not refuse help, but preferred not to rely on anyone other than himself.
There was a different calm about Ardyn today, not empty calm, but a calm filled with determination that was slowly forming.
The wind moved through the wooden roofs, producing a sound resembling a soft snort.
Two shadows walk side by side, lengthening and then shortening as the clouds move to cover the sun.
Seraphine looked at her own reflection, then at Ardyn's shadow carrying the dark sword.
He didn't understand it completely, but he knew something had begun to shift within his cousin.
But the calm was broken when they arrived at the intersection between the training area and the residence.
Darion Vale was standing there with Kelvin Duskhold and Tristan Emberfall.
The street was usually busy, but today it was strangely quiet, as if the world had purposely emptied it for this confrontation.
Darion looked at Ardyn from head to toe, then his gaze fell on the dark sword. A faint smile appeared on his face, but there was no humor behind it.
"Ardyn Vale," said Darion. "I heard that the elder's decision had fallen. You were declared unfit. But you walk around as if something has changed."
Ardyn stopped, but his body remained relaxed. "If looking at you makes me stop, then I really haven't changed."
Kelvin stifled a laugh, Tristan gritted his teeth, and Darion narrowed his eyes.
He stared at the dark sword for a moment longer, his face showing a mixed reaction of disgust and curiosity.
"That rust sword," Darion said. "You think that will give you a future?"
Ardyn shifted the sword a little so that it was more comfortable in his hand. "No. The future does not come from inanimate objects."
"Then why did you bring him?" Darion asked sarcastically.
"Because even inanimate objects have a direction. Much more so than people who live only from family inheritance."
Tristan almost stepped forward, but Kelvin held his shoulder.
Darion sounded like he was choking on his own breath, not because he was angry, but because he didn't expect Ardyn to reply so cheekily.
Several seconds passed without sound. Seraphine froze, afraid that one of them would attack.
Darion finally took a small step back, not out of fear of Ardyn, but of ignorance regarding the sword. "You're not a threat. But you make people uncomfortable."
"I'm not trying to be comfortable," answered Ardyn.
Darion turned around with a sour face, and his two followers followed wordlessly. Even though there was no fighting, the lingering air carried a clearer scent of hostility than before.
Ardyn continued his journey to his house on the southern edge of the settlement. The small house was separate from the other Vale family buildings.
The wooden walls were dark, and the yard was full of weeds. The house was unkempt, but it was the most honest place Ardyn had.
He entered and leaned his sword against the wall near the door. Daylight penetrated through the cracks in the walls, reflecting the slowly dancing dust.
The room was simple: a small table, a thin bookshelf, and a bed that had not been re-strawed for a long time.
Seraphine stood by the door and stared at the empty room. "Your house is always quiet."
Ardyn sat on a wooden chair. "Silence helps thinking."
"Aren't you afraid of living alone?" Seraphine asked.
"Fear doesn't stop anything. So it's useless."
Seraphine didn't answer. He just stared at Ardyn for a few seconds, as if trying to read what was behind his words.
But Ardyn had already turned his attention to the sword. Not with a sense of ownership, but with the awareness that he chose the burden himself.
Meanwhile, underground in the main hall, Elder Sylen bent over the stone table of the clan archives.
An oil candle illuminated the old scroll he opened carefully. Dust fell from the edge of the scroll as he stretched it out completely. The writing on it was worn, but still legible.
"The events after the Twilight War," muttered Sylen quietly. "A weapon without a name. Does not follow the flow of meridians. Not bound by power. Depends on the intention of the bearer."
Sylen rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. "Arcanist Lorian Halewind… you actually wrote this."
He read the main paragraph again. A nameless black sword that emits no energy.
Didn't refuse. Don't choose a carrier based on strength. Just following the user's wishes. An anomaly that shouldn't exist in a world that depends on meridian currents.
"If this is true," Sylen whispered, "Gaius must not ignore it."
He rolled up the document again and got up from the stone chair.
Additional candles are lit so that other notes are not left behind. But his mind was already moving forward. He had to meet Gaius tonight.
At the same time, Ardyn came out of his house, carrying the sword towards the empty public training arena.
The evening breeze began to fall, bringing cold air and a damp scent from the small forest outside the settlement.
A half moon hung in the sky, giving a faint glow to the ground arena that was usually busy during the day.
Ardyn stood in the middle of the arena and raised the dark sword. The swing slowly glided through the air, cutting through the silence without a clanging sound. No energy comes out.
No light. But Ardyn felt the air parting a little around the blade, like the world was giving a little space for the movement.
He whispered to himself. "The world didn't open doors for me. But that doesn't mean there are no doors."
On the other side of the settlement, Sylen knocked on the door of the Gaius residence with an ancient note in hand, her breathing slightly rushed.
Two different directions moving on the same night, towards a point that slowly begins to merge.
The nameless sword hangs in Ardyn's hand, while Sylen holds the answer to the past.
No one knows what changes will come, but the small world of Vale is slowly starting to adjust.
Ardyn's steps and Sylen's knocks echoed together in the silent night.