Dominic walked until the house disappeared behind the trees.
The Crimson Arcanum Academy stood far from the western side of the world in his mind, far from the quiet life he had always known.
It was located in the heart of this kingdom, the kingdom of Aurelion, within its capital city, Cindervale. It was a city that was said to be built atop ancient foundations of ether veins.
It was also rumored that somewhere beneath the capital lay a sealed entrance to a section of the Labyrinth that was so heavily guarded and bound by ancient laws that only those of royal blood were permitted to approach it, let alone enter.
That city was a place where royal bloodlines, power, politics, and knowledge converged.
To reach Cindervale, Dominic could not travel alone. The roads between cities were long and dangerous, plagued mostly by bandits. Commoners without escort rarely survived the journey.
The safest option was to travel with a registered caravan party, wagons protected by hired guards and Arcanists that moved between major cities on fixed schedules.
The journey would take at least three days, assuming nothing went wrong.
By midday, Dominic entered Vellonor Reach once more.
The city looked the same as it always had. Yet Dominic felt different walking through it now.
As he passed the central square, his gaze drifted upward.
The Hall of Veins stood there, tall and imposing. Its stone walls were etched with sigils that glowed beneath the sun. Three months ago, this was where his weakness and his broken Bloodmark had been announced, broadcasted without mercy.
He stopped for a moment and looked at it.
Memories stirred again. He remembered the murmurs, looks of pity, and disdain from noble kids.
Dominic breathed slowly with a bitter smile.
"It doesn't matter anymore right now," he thought.
His Bloodmark was different. Not broken. He was no longer powerless.
The ether inside him moved smoothly. His Signatures power answered his call. He had survived the Labyrinth. He had trained in silence and endured.
He was not weak.
So why should he keep feeling inferior?
A faint smile tugged at his lips as he turned away from the Hall and continued walking.
His destination was near the eastern gate of the city, where merchants and travelers gathered.
There stood a long, two-story building reinforced with timber. A large sign hung above its entrance carved with the image of a wagon wheel crossed by a spear.
The Wayfarer's Ledger.
It was the official booking hall for caravans departing from Vellonor Reach.
Inside, Dominic could see people bustling and boards covered the walls, filled with pinned notices detailing routes, destinations, departure dates, and prices.
Merchants argued quietly with clerks. Travelers stood in line, clutching coin pouches or travel permits.
Dominic waited his turn.
When he reached the counter, a tired-looking clerk glanced at him. "Destination?"
"Cindervale," Dominic said.
The clerk nodded and flipped open a thick ledger. "Next caravan leaves at dawn tomorrow. Five wagons with armed escort. Three-day route if conditions are normal."
"How much?" Dominic asked.
"50 Copper Crowns. Already included food," The clerk named the price.
Dominic's hand tightened around his pouch.
It was a painful amount. Nearly half of what he and his grandfather had saved through months of exhausting work.
But he hesitated for only a moment.
Then he placed the silver colored coins on the counter.
The soft clink they made sounded heavier than it should have in his ears.
"Name?"
"Dominic Galio."
The clerk counted the money, scribbled Dominic's name into the ledger, and slid a small wooden token across the counter. It was carved with a simple symbol marking his assigned wagon.
"Be here before sunrise," the clerk said. "Don't be late."
Dominic nodded and took the token.
As he stepped back outside, he closed his hand around it and drew a steady breath.
A lot of his money was gone just like that. But this was the price of moving forward.
—
Dominic did not go to an inn.
That night, he made his way to the stables near the eastern gate and paid a single Copper Crown to the owner to sleep among the hay.
The smell of straw and animals was in the air but it was warm enough and more importantly, cheap.
He lay down with his pack beneath his head and the wooden token clenched in his hand, staring at the beams above until sleep finally took him.
Before dawn, while the city was still wrapped in darkness, Dominic woke.
He slipped out of the stable quietly and headed for the public bathhouse. The water was cold at that hour, biting against his skin, but it washed away the dust and sweat and sleepiness.
He scrubbed himself clean, tied his hair back, and pulled on his clothes again.
After that, he ate the simple food his grandfather had packed for him like dried meat, bread, and a small wrapped portion of preserved roots. Nothing fancy, but it filled his stomach.
When he was done, Dominic returned to the Wayfarer's Ledger.
The building stood silent in the dim light, its doors still closed. Lanterns flickered along the street.
He was the first one there.
Not long after, heavy footsteps approached from behind.
"Oh. You're also heading to Cindervale?"
Dominic turned to see an older man with a burly build and broad shoulders. His beard was thick and graying and his arms were corded with muscle from years of hard labor or fighting. A sword hung at his side.
"Yes, sir," Dominic replied.
The man looked him over slowly, eyes lingering on Dominic's plain clothes, his light pack, and his overall bearing.
"Hm. I don't know how you managed to enter, but it'll be hard for you, kid."
Dominic knew exactly what the man was seeing. A poor commoner. No crest or fine gear. No visible Bloodmark worth mentioning.
He had expected this. But it still frustrated him.
"It doesn't matter," Dominic said evenly. "Where do I sit?"
The man stared at him for a heartbeat.
Then he burst out laughing.
"Haha! You're tougher than you look, huh?" he said, with clear amusement in his voice. "With that attitude, I think you'll be just fine over there. Haha."
Dominic blinked, surprised. He had been expecting another mockery, not praise.
"Where's your token?" the man asked.
Dominic held it out. The burly man glanced at the symbol, nodded, then pointed toward one of the wagons parked nearby.
"That one. Third wagon from the front."
Dominic nodded and thanked him, then climbed aboard.
The wagon was better than he expected. Wide and sturdy, reinforced with metal bands, with long padded benches lining the sides.
Blankets were folded neatly at the corners, and the space was large enough for people to lie down comfortably during the journey.
He took a seat on the corner and set his pack beside him.
Time passed. This was longer than Dominic had thought.
"What is this?!"
Dominic glanced and saw a boy with colorful and expensive noble clothes enter.
"Arent you the boy who have broken Bloodmark?" said the noble kid. Then his mouth pulled upward into a grin. As if seeing a new toy he could play with.
—