There was no room for objection.
The Capital's Magic Academy was about to begin its annual cycle, a mandatory summons for every noble heir. Sophia would have preferred to keep her son under the protection of the Duchy, far from the scrutiny of the Court. But politics did not allow refuges.
For four months, the heirs had to reside in the Capital. Receive instruction. Present themselves before the Crown. Demonstrate loyalty.
Then they would return.
Because the Douglas Duchy was not just any territory.
It was the kingdom's military pillar, the shield that contained the threats of the forest and the sword that upheld the borders.
But even an iron bastion depended on wheat.
Within its own lands, it was necessary to supervise the harvests that sustained the duchy. Although it enjoyed almost absolute autonomy, that independence had a price: it had to guarantee the food of its armies and its people by itself.
And precisely at that time of year, the task became more dangerous.
With the change of season came the mating and migration period of creatures born in the forest. Monsters that left the depths in search of safe territories to nest… and easy prey to feed their young.
The open fields, filled with defenseless farmers, became the perfect target.
Even in the Douglas Duchy, the harvest was a military campaign.
The real problem, however, was not the academic obligation.
It was fate.
In the Capital, Lusian would inevitably meet his fiancée.
Emily.
The Saint of Light.
The woman destined to pierce his heart.
The memory was not his own… but the images from the computer screen had shown him his future. A devastated hill. Black spears. A sword descending without hesitation.
Erwin breathed slowly.
I have to do something to change that bad future.
Or he would be walking step by step toward the scaffold.
The internal fracture of House Douglas complicated any plan. Duke Laurence openly favored Martha and her son Caleb. Sophia, Duchess by decree and woman of Omega affinity, maintained her position with an elegance that concealed steel.
The Duchy was divided into two factions.
And the Capital would amplify that division.
When the day of departure arrived, Lusian, disoriented, headed toward the main carriage: the ostentatious vehicle reserved for the Duke.
Sophia stopped him with a slight movement of her gloved hand.
—You will travel with me, Lusian.
It was not a suggestion.
Erwin immediately understood the implication.
Laurence would travel with Martha and Caleb.
Sophia would travel with the legitimate heir.
Even in transit, the family moved like two separate kingdoms.
The contingent that set out for the Capital was imposing: five hundred soldiers under the command of Albert and Garet. Monica, Sophia's personal assistant, boarded the carriage with them.
An unnecessary display against bandits.
But not against intrigues.
"An army cannot protect me from a sword blessed by light," Erwin thought.
The carriage he boarded was more discreet, though protected by a complex rune engraved into the chassis. Upon entering, the softness of velvet and the light filtering through enchanted crystals contrasted with the tension building in his chest.
There were no horses.
Beneath the floor, a mana core pulsed like a restrained heart.
—Different technology… —he murmured.
—Applied magic —Sophia corrected calmly, settling across from him—. The Douglas lineage does not spare what guarantees stability.
Stability.
Erwin held her gaze.
Sophia was, without a doubt, one of the most powerful figures in the kingdom. Chosen for her exceptional magical affinity. An affinity that Laurence despised, perhaps because he could not master it.
Did she know something?
Could she perceive the change in her son?
—You have changed, Lusian.
Erwin felt tension crawl down his spine.
—I am still the same, mother.
Sophia tilted her head slightly, observing him as if evaluating a freshly forged piece.
The carriage began to glide along the road with an almost unreal smoothness. The trees receded like orderly shadows.
One week of travel.
Seven days to think.
Erwin did not waste a single one.
The Capital would not be an open battlefield. It would be worse.
There, the heroes were still students.
Emily was not yet the woman who executed without hesitation.
That meant one thing:
The fate was still forming.
It could be altered.
It had to be altered.
He would not face the Saint of Light as an enemy.
He would blend in among the nobles.
Reduce his profile.
Avoid prominence.
Becoming irrelevant was, for now, his best weapon.
But he knew something with absolute clarity:
Fate was not a passive force.
It would react.
When the Capital's walls finally appeared on the horizon, rising like a colossus of white stone, Erwin felt an invisible pressure tightening around his chest.
It was fear.
Recognition.
Of a stage that would cost him his life.