The Griffin's wings beat with steady rhythm as we soared through the sky, each powerful stroke carrying us farther from everything I'd known for the past month. The sensation of flight was still strange, still slightly unsettling, the gentle sway of the carriage beneath the creature's body a constant reminder that only air separated me from a fall that would end in very certain death.
But the view was worth the anxiety.
I pressed closer to the crystal window, watching the world transform beneath us as we traveled. The Einsworth estate had long since vanished beyond the horizon, swallowed by distance and the curvature of the earth itself. What spread below now was a patchwork landscape that revealed the kingdom's geography in ways maps could never properly convey.
Farmland dominated the immediate terrain, vast rectangular fields in varying shades of green and gold depending on what crops grew there. The fields were separated by thin lines that I realized were roads and property boundaries, creating a geometric pattern that spoke to careful cultivation and planning. Small villages dotted the landscape like clusters of toy blocks, smoke rising from chimneys to mark human habitation.
Rivers cut through the farmland in sinuous curves, their surfaces reflecting sunlight like ribbons of silver. I could see where settlements had grown along these waterways, taking advantage of transportation and irrigation. Bridges crossed at strategic points, connecting roads that would otherwise be interrupted by the water.
Beyond the agricultural regions, forests appeared. Not the cultivated, managed woodlands near the estate, but true wilderness that stretched for miles. Dark green canopies that concealed whatever lurked beneath, broken occasionally by clearings or rocky outcroppings that jutted through the vegetation. The Saber Garden had been only one such forest among many scattered across the kingdom.
Mountains rose in the distance to the north, their peaks white with snow that never melted even in summer. The range formed a natural barrier between kingdoms, passes through them carefully guarded and controlled. I'd read about those mountains in the Einsworth library, about the beasts that inhabited the high altitudes and the traders who risked the crossing for profit.
Cities appeared as we continued eastward, larger settlements that sprawled across the landscape with stone walls and organized districts. From this height, I could see the planning that went into urban centers, the way roads radiated outward like spokes on a wheel, the way residential areas clustered near commercial districts, the way defensive structures positioned themselves to control approaches.
The Griffin maintained its steady pace, covering distance that would have taken days by horse in mere hours. The handler had been right about the six-hour estimate. The sun climbed steadily toward its zenith as we flew, marking the passage of time through simple geometry.
As we traveled, I began noticing other traffic in the sky.
Griffin-drawn carriages like mine appeared occasionally, their distinctive silhouettes visible against clouds or blue sky. Each one carried the heraldic colors and crests of noble houses, marking their passengers as aristocracy traveling to the same destination. I saw crimson and gold, emerald and silver, black and white in various combinations. The great families of the five kingdoms, all converging on a single point.
But there were other vehicles as well, larger and more utilitarian. Carriages drawn not by single Griffins but by teams of winged horses, their bodies pure white or black or spotted, their wings beating in synchronized patterns. These carriages were bigger, boxier, designed to carry multiple passengers rather than single nobles. The craftsmanship was still excellent but lacked the ornate decoration of aristocratic vehicles.
Lower nobility and wealthy commoners, I realized. Those who could afford sky travel but not the prestige of Griffin transport. The academy accepted students from all social classes provided they could pass the entrance examination or had sufficient backing.
I settled back from the window and let my mind organize what I knew about the political landscape I was flying into.
The Kingdom of Aldoria, my home, was one of five human kingdoms that formed a formal alliance spanning the continent. Within Aldoria itself, power was concentrated in four ducal houses, each controlling significant military forces and territory.
The Einsworth family was one of those four pillars, known for producing warriors and specializing in speed-based combat. Our reputation was built on the Flash God Technique and the legendary saber that I now carried at my hip.
The Ravencroft family, second pillar, specialized in defensive warfare and siege tactics. Their warriors were renowned for endurance and the ability to hold positions that others would abandon. Duke Ravencroft himself was said to be a Grandmaster who could withstand attacks that would obliterate lesser fighters.
The Blackwood family, third pillar, focused on reconnaissance and ranged combat. Their scouts and archers were considered the best in the kingdom, capable of gathering intelligence and striking from distances that made conventional retaliation impossible. Their heir was a girl approximately my age, known for exceptional archery talent.
The Silverstone family, fourth pillar, produced battle mages who could rain destruction from afar. They were the most magically focused of the four houses, their techniques emphasizing elemental manipulation and large-scale attacks. Their heir was a boy who'd awakened a rare lightning affinity two years ago and had been making waves at the academy since.
Below the ducal houses were countless lesser noble families. Counts, viscounts, barons, and knights who held smaller territories and served larger houses. Many of them would have children at the academy as well, forming political blocs and alliances based on their family connections.
And beyond Aldoria's internal politics were the other four kingdoms of the alliance.
The Kingdom of Brevia to the east, merchant kingdom, rich in resources and trade connections. Their royal family was known for political cunning rather than martial prowess, but they produced talented administrators and strategists who understood logistics and economics at levels others couldn't match.
The Kingdom of Castern on the western coast, magically advanced, home to the Tower of Arcane Studies. Their students would arrive with spell knowledge and theoretical understanding that purely martial fighters couldn't match. They'd be dangerous in different ways than warriors, requiring different tactics to counter.
The Kingdom of Draven in the south, agricultural powerhouse, but their knights were renowned for earth magic and endurance. They produced warriors who fought like forces of nature, impossible to move once they'd claimed ground.
The Kingdom of Elenor in the central highlands, smallest by territory but serving as diplomatic heart of the alliance. They specialized in producing mediators, negotiators, and administrators who kept the alliance functional despite inevitable tensions between larger powers.
Each kingdom sent its heirs to the Continental Academy. And at the top of each kingdom's hierarchy sat imperial families whose bloodlines were considered blessed or exceptional in ways that transcended normal noble privileges.
I'd researched those imperial families carefully during my time in the Einsworth library, knowing I'd need to recognize and navigate around them.
Aldoria's imperial family had twin daughters, both sixteen like me, both attending the academy. Princess Seraphina and Princess Celestia. Identical in appearance according to descriptions, but supposedly quite different in temperament. Seraphina was martial, aggressive, competitive. Celestia was intellectual, measured, diplomatic. Both were considered prodigies with rare talents that had manifested early.
The Kingdom of Castern also had twin heirs, but these were boy and girl rather than identical sisters. Prince Alec and Princess Ava. Alec specialized in lightning magic and was considered one of the most talented combat mages of his generation. Ava focused on theoretical magic and enchantment, reportedly capable of creating artifacts that rivaled master craftsmen despite her age.
The other kingdoms had single heirs or multiple children who weren't twins, but all of them would be present at the academy. All of them would be watching each other, forming alliances, making enemies, playing political games that extended beyond simple student competition.
And I would be walking into that environment as Kaine Einsworth. The disappointing eldest son. The one who'd spent years in self-destruction before suddenly showing competence. The one whose younger brother, the actual hero candidate, had mysteriously disappeared in the Saber Garden.
My reputation would precede me. Some would know the old Kaine and expect continued failure. Others would have heard about my recent transformation and be curious or skeptical. A few might even know about my success in the final test against Jack, though that information probably hadn't spread beyond the estate yet.
The question was how to handle that reputation. Should I try to correct it? Prove immediately that I'd changed? Or should I lean into it?
The answer came easily when I considered what had worked at the estate. I'd played into Kaine's arrogant, dismissive personality when confronting the knights who'd questioned me about Abel. That intimidation had worked because they'd expected it, because it fit their understanding of who I was supposed to be.
The old Kaine had been arrogant and dismissive before his descent into self-destruction. That personality was part of his history, part of what people would expect if he'd recovered and started training again.
So I'd embrace it. I'd be the arrogant Einsworth heir who'd gotten his act together and now carried himself with the confidence of someone who thought himself superior. Let them think I was simply reverting to my pre-decline personality. Let them judge based on that surface reading.
It would make them underestimate me. They'd see arrogance and assume incompetence hiding beneath it, assume I was overcompensating for weakness. They wouldn't expect actual capability backing up the attitude until I demonstrated it in ways they couldn't deny.
And maintaining that personality would be easier than trying to craft something new. Kaine's memories gave me the template. I just had to inhabit it without letting the mask slip.
The arrogant noble. The one who looked down on others not out of genuine superiority but out of defensive pride. The one who'd rather die than show weakness or ask for help.
I could play that role. Had been playing variations of it already.
My thoughts were interrupted by a change in the Griffin's flight pattern. The steady cruising had shifted to a gradual descent, wings adjusting angle to bleed altitude while maintaining forward speed.
I pressed back to the window and looked ahead.
There, rising above the landscape in defiance of natural law, was the Continental Academy.
The academy wasn't built on normal ground. It sat on a floating island, a massive chunk of earth and stone suspended several hundred feet above the terrain below through magic I couldn't begin to comprehend. The island itself was perhaps two miles across, easily five times the size of the entire Einsworth estate, with edges that dropped straight down to nothing.
Buildings covered the floating island's surface in organized clusters. I could see what appeared to be dormitories arranged in neat rows, their architecture uniform and efficient. Training grounds sprawled across multiple areas, some covered, some open to the sky. An enormous central structure dominated the island's heart, a building that combined castle and fortress and academy into something that defied simple classification. Towers rose at regular intervals around the island's perimeter, likely defensive structures or observation posts.
But what drew my eye most was the spire.
A single tower rose from the central building, climbing hundreds of feet into the air, narrowing as it ascended until it terminated in a crystalline point that caught sunlight and scattered it in rainbow patterns. The spire was visible from miles away, a beacon marking the academy's location for anyone who looked up.
The entire floating island was held in place by visible magic. Massive crystals embedded in the underside of the landmass glowed with power, creating a network of energy that must have required incredible resources to maintain. Smaller crystals dotted the island's edges, probably stabilization points or defensive enchantments.
Other Griffin carriages were converging on the academy from different directions, their paths controlled by some system I couldn't see. The larger carriages drawn by winged horses approached from a different vector, all traffic being directed toward a specific area on the island's southern edge.
The landing zone, I realized. Large enough to accommodate dozens of vehicles simultaneously, organized with the precision of military logistics.
Our Griffin began its final approach, descending toward an open platform marked with sigils that probably indicated where we should land. Other Griffins were already touching down or taking off, the space constantly cycling through arrivals and departures.
I could see students disembarking from other carriages, their formal clothes marking them as nobility. Most appeared to be around my age, sixteen or seventeen, though I spotted a few who looked older. Second and third-year students, probably returning from break.
The carriage swayed more noticeably as we descended, the Griffin adjusting for crosswinds and the turbulence created by other flying creatures. My stomach lurched slightly, but I forced myself to breathe steadily and maintain composure.
With a final adjustment and a powerful beat of its wings to arrest downward momentum, the Griffin touched down on the platform. The landing was surprisingly gentle, barely a jolt, the creature's talons finding purchase on stone enchanted to withstand such impacts.
The handler appeared at the carriage door moments later, opening it and offering his hand to help me disembark. I took it out of courtesy rather than need, stepping down onto the platform and feeling solid ground beneath my boots for the first time in six hours.
"Welcome to the Continental Academy, Young Master Kaine," the handler said formally. "The registration building is straight ahead, the one with the blue banner. You'll need to present your recommendation letter and register for the entrance examination before sunset today."
"Thank you," I replied, reaching into my coat to confirm the sealed envelope was still there. It was, the wax seal intact.
The handler bowed and returned to his Griffin, preparing for the return journey. I stood on the platform and took a moment to properly observe my surroundings.
The landing zone was organized chaos. Griffins and winged horses arrived and departed in controlled patterns, directed by officials wearing academy colors. Students gathered in small groups, some greeting friends they recognized, others standing alone like me and taking in the environment. Servants and attendants moved luggage and equipment, their movements efficient and practiced.
I could feel attention shifting toward me occasionally, eyes tracking my formal clothes and the Einsworth crest worked into the fabric. Recognition flickered across some faces, though whether they recognized me specifically or just my family affiliation was unclear.
I needed to move. Standing here gathering attention would only create problems. Better to get registered, find out about the examination, and establish myself properly.
But before I took that first step toward the registration building, I let myself have one more moment of internal assessment.
I was Kaine Einsworth. Eldest son of Duke Eamon. Heir to one of Aldoria's four pillars. Wielder of the legendary family saber. Someone who'd killed beasts of higher rank and struck a Master in combat.
But I was also the disappointing son. The one with the reputation for failure. The one whose brother had been a hero candidate while I'd been a disgrace.
The academy students would know that reputation. Would judge me based on it. Would test me to see if the transformation was real or temporary.
So I'd show them. Not through desperate attempts to prove myself or through trying to befriend everyone. Through the same arrogant confidence that had served Kaine before his decline. Through carrying myself like someone who had no doubt of his own capability and didn't particularly care what others thought.
I'd be the Einsworth heir. Proud, dismissive, confident to the point of arrogance. I'd look down on those I thought beneath me. I'd show minimal respect even to those who theoretically outranked me. I'd make them think I was all attitude with uncertain backing.
And then, when it mattered, when they challenged me or tried to put me in what they thought was my place, I'd demonstrate exactly why confidence wasn't always empty posturing.
Let them think I was reverting to old patterns. Let them think the month of training had just restored my previous personality without adding real capability. Let them underestimate what I'd become.
The Einsworth Monster, they'd called me at the estate. Jack had said it with pride, the staff with uncertainty.
Here, I'd earn that title again. But they wouldn't know it was coming until it was too late to adjust their assumptions.
I adjusted my coat, confirming the saber sat properly at my hip. Checked the spatial ring on my finger, confirming I could feel the connection. Touched the recommendation letter one more time.
Then I started walking toward the registration building, my posture straight and my expression carrying exactly the right mixture of confidence and dismissive arrogance that Kaine Einsworth would have shown.
The Continental Academy awaited.
And I was ready to show them what a month of brutal training could produce when applied to someone who refused to waste his second chance.
Three years. Hundreds of noble heirs. Political games and combat trials and challenges I couldn't yet imagine.
They expected failure.
I'd give them something else entirely.
My first step onto academy ground felt significant, like crossing a threshold that couldn't be uncrossed. The floating island beneath my feet, held aloft by magic I didn't understand. The students around me, each one representing a family with their own history and expectations. The spire rising ahead, marking the heart of an institution that had shaped the alliance for generations.
This was where I would prove that Kaine Einsworth was more than his reputation suggested. Where I'd demonstrate that the disappointing son had become something worthy of the legendary blade at his hip.
The registration building drew closer with each step, its blue banner snapping in the wind that swept across the floating island.
And I walked toward it with the confidence of someone who had nothing left to lose and everything to prove.