Chapter-6

  The station was crowded. Families gathered around departing students, some offering tight embraces, others standing at a distance, their farewells quiet but heavy. The air buzzed with conversation, last-minute hugs and hurried words exchanged. Ren’s parents stand near him, their expressions a mix of pride and worry. His mother, hands fidgeting, reaches up to adjust the collar of his traveling cloak, a habit from when he was younger.

  “You’ll write, won’t you?” she asks, her voice light but strained.

  His father, standing beside her, places a steadying hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be fine, Mara.” Then, looking at Ren, he adds, “Don’t let anyone push you around. And don’t forget what we taught you about trade—connections are everything.”

  Leo’s parents are nearby, a stark contrast. His father stands stiff, arms crossed, offering only a firm nod. His mother, while more expressive, keeps her words measured. “This is your chance,” she tells him. “Make something of it.”

  When the final boarding call echoes through the station, the moment tightens. Ren’s mother, unable to help herself, slips a small protective charm into his palm—nothing magical, just an old superstition. “Just in case.”

  As the train doors close, Ren and Leo exchange a look. No turning back now.

  _________________________________________________________________________

  The interior of the train was spacious, with compartments divided between different classes. The Academy students had their own reserved sections, though even here, a clear divide remained. Nobles claimed the front compartments, while commoners were left with the rear.

  Ren and Leo found an empty booth near the back. The seats were cushioned, though not luxurious, and the large windows offered a clear view of the landscape as the train pulled away from the station.

  Not long after settling in, the compartment door slid open.

  A boy, about their age, stepped inside. He had unruly brown hair, sharp eyes that flicked between them warily, and a travel-worn satchel slung over his shoulder.

  “You two headed to the Academy?” he asked.

  Leo leaned back. “That obvious?”

  The boy snorted, tossing his bag onto the seat. “Not many people in this section wear academy badges.” He tapped the small insignia on his own collar—an official mark designating students bound for the Royal Academy. “Name’s Aric.”

  “Ren.”

  “Leo.”

  Aric settled in, glancing toward the noble compartments. “Let me guess—you two weren’t exactly ‘expected’ picks either.”

  Ren raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t chosen for your connections?”

  Aric scoffed. “I’m the son of a blacksmith. Guessing you two don’t come from noble lines either.”

  Leo smirked. “What gave it away?”

  Before Aric could respond, voices from the hallway interrupted them.

  “Well, well. Looks like the Academy’s standards have fallen even further.”

  The door slid open again, this time revealing a group of noble students. Their leader, a blond-haired boy dressed in fine traveling robes, leaned against the doorway with a smirk.

  Davian Vale.

  Ren recognized him immediately. His family was well-known—minor nobility, but wealthy enough to throw their weight around. He had barely scraped through the agility trial, yet here he was, standing in the train meant for Academy students.

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  Davian’s eyes flicked between the three commoners. “Didn’t realize the Academy was accepting charity cases now.”

  Leo’s fingers twitched, but he forced a grin. “And here I thought we’d have to wait until classes started for the entertainment.”

  Davian’s smirk didn’t waver. “You should watch that mouth, Thorne. The Academy isn’t like your little backwater towns. There, people know their place.”

  Aric crossed his arms. “That so? And where’s your place, exactly? Barely passed the trials, didn’t you?”

  Davian’s eyes darkened. “Careful.” He stepped forward. “I wonder how long commoners like you will last when things get serious. Maybe you should save yourselves the embarrassment and quit now.”

  Ren remained silent, watching. Davian wasn’t just posturing—he wanted a reaction. And judging by the way Leo’s hands clenched, he was close to getting one.

  The air shifted. One of the nobles behind Davian traced a sigil in the air—quick, precise. Mana flared, forming a faintly glowing mark. A low-tier force sigil, meant to shove rather than injure.

  Ren’s eyes flicked to the sigil, analyzing the strokes and formation. Imperfect. Rushed. Too much mana leaking from the edges.

  Not a serious attack. A test.

  Leo noticed it too. The moment the sigil activated, he sidestepped, letting the forceful push hit the back of the seat instead. Aric moved as well, reacting a second later, eyes narrowing.

  “Oh, you’re actually paying attention,” Davian mused. “Maybe you’re not as hopeless as I thought.”

  Ren finally spoke. “Your form is sloppy.”

  Davian’s gaze snapped to him. “What?”

  “The sigil,” Ren said evenly. “Too much mana output. Poorly controlled. You wasted energy on the outer lines.” He tilted his head slightly. “Did your tutor not correct that?”

  Silence.

  Then, one of Davian’s companions scowled. “You little—”

  Before things can escalate further, the compartment door slams open. A stern academy chaperone glares at them all. “Any magical misconduct before arrival will be noted on your records.”

  Davian’s lips pressed into a thin line. His hands clenched at his sides, but after a long moment, he exhaled sharply. Without another word, he turned and stepped past the chaperone, back into the nobles’ assigned coach. His lackeys hesitated but eventually trailed after him, throwing lingering glares before the door slid shut.

  The tension remained heavy in the air.

  “Well,” Leo muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “That was something.”

  Aric leaned back with a quiet chuckle. “Looks like you got under his skin.”

  Ren didn’t respond immediately. His thoughts were elsewhere—on the sigil he had seen, on the implications of a noble family allowing such a flawed technique to pass unnoticed. But as he turned his gaze back toward the window, something else caught his attention.

  The tension remained, but as the train continued forward, the scenery beyond the window shifted. The well-tended fields and scattered villages gave way to rougher terrain—rolling hills dotted with jagged stone, where remnants of ancient battles still lingered.

  Leo frowned at the scene. “Looks like a graveyard.”

  “It is,” Ren replied. His gaze lingered on a collapsed fort near the horizon, its walls shattered, left to crumble as a silent warning.

  “This was the last major battlefield of the Western Conquest,” Aric explained. “When Aurelan crushed the independent lords here and pulled the Western Reach into the kingdom.”

  Leo whistled softly. “Guess they never rebuilt?”

  “They left it like this on purpose,” Ren said. “A message. ‘This is what happens when you stand against the kingdom.’”

  The train passed an old watchtower, its top half long since crumbled. Beyond it, the land stretched westward, fading into a vast expanse where the old city-states of the Western Reach had once stood before Aurelan’s conquest. Though officially part of the kingdom now, tensions still simmered beneath the surface. Some nobles there were only loyal in name, waiting for the right moment to break away.

  Leo shifted uncomfortably. “So we’re riding straight through a place full of people who hate us.”

  Aric smirked. “Not just here. To the north, we’ve got the Dominion of Rhazir. They’ve been expanding for years—stalled now, but they’re not done. To the east, there’s the Seradin League. They don’t pick sides, just whoever pays them the most. And to the south, the desert tribes… well, some trade with us, some raid us, and some do both, depending on the season.”

  Leo let out a low whistle. “So basically, everyone around us either hates us, uses us, or is waiting for the right moment to stab us in the back.”

  Aric shrugged. “Welcome to the great Empire of Aurelan.” He said in a mocking tone

  Ren exhaled. The Academy would teach them magic, but that alone wouldn’t be enough. Because in a world like this, power wasn’t just about wielding spells—it was about understanding the forces that shaped the world and making sure you weren’t crushed beneath them.

  Ren exhaled. The Academy would teach them magic, but that wasn’t enough. His father’s words lingered in his mind—power wasn’t just about strength, but about the people who stood beside you and who didn't. And right now, Aurelan had no shortage of enemies waiting for a moment of weakness.