NOVEL NEXT Chapter 34: Graves and Gates
The morning air was cold, though the season was beginning to shift. The ground was firm and lined with frost that cracked lightly as Vencian crossed the graveyard. He carried a small bundle of flowers, held with care, as he moved through the arranged stones.
He reached Caesor's grave first. The marker was taller and better kept than most, standing in the line of family burials. Vencian looked at the name engraved there.
In truth, he had never met the man, only seen him through the traces of memory that did not belong to him alone.
He placed the flowers at the base of the stone and brushed away the thin frost that clung to it. The respect he felt was quiet, more borrowed than his own, yet it was all he had to offer.
Moses's grave stood near. Vencian's steps slowed as he approached, and his hand reached the stone without thinking.
Unlike Caesor, he had spoken to Moses, had watched him act like a dependable brother. The memories tied to him were not distant but vivid. He crouched and let his fingers press against the carved letters of his name.
The thought came clearly: this body and everything tied to it had not begun with him. It carried its own past, its own bonds, its share of losses and privileges.
That weight was his now whether he wanted it or not.
If he could find a way to give something back to this family while building a steadier life for himself, then it would be worth doing.
When he left the family graves, his path took him to the section reserved for soldiers. Talor and Larik rested there under simpler stones. They had fallen during his escape, and their deaths still pressed against him.
He stood between the two graves in silence, waiting for words that did not come. Finally, he lowered his head and spoke softly. "Sorry." He remained still for a moment longer, then turned away without adding more.
By the gate, Lumea was waiting. She had wrapped herself in a heavy cloak, her arms held close to keep the cold away. As Vencian reached her, she stepped forward and embraced him. He let the weight of it steady him, staying in the hold a moment before pulling back.
"Write often," she said. Her voice was calm, with nothing added beyond the plain request.
He gave her a quick nod.
They separated without rush. She watched him for a moment, then let him go. Vencian turned down the path, his steps sounding against the frozen ground.
A carriage stood waiting at the gate. He pulled the door open, climbed inside, and sat down without speaking. The driver gave a short call, and the wheels rolled over the frost.
Vencian leaned back, the graves fading from view behind him. Ahead lay Ralan, and the academy that would decide what came next.
— — —
A Few Days Later
Two finely dressed girls walked side by side along the stone path that led toward the front gates of Airantis Academy's Ralan branch. Of the three Airantis academies in the kingdom, Ralan was the largest and the hardest to enter, with entrance scores set so high that even many nobles failed to qualify.
The grounds spread between the Daraeth River on one side and the forest edge on the other, its position set along the road that led straight toward Moriador, the capital, only a short distance away.
Yanis Rusmar lifted her skirt slightly as she stepped around a puddle left from melting frost. "I swear, they treat us like clerks," she said, her voice carrying clear annoyance. "Why must we be the ones registering carriages? It's something the staff should do."
Saely Fidril clasped her hands behind her back with studied calm. "You complain, but you never miss it. If you weren't here to glare at the clerks, they might record your father's crest after some commoner's son who scraped his way into the academy."
Yanis gave her a sidelong look. "Exactly my point. If we don't stand above them, the staff will pretend there's no difference. The Rusmar line does not belong beside families with no standing."
Saely tilted her head, almost amused. "Careful. Some of those born without crests still reach the same lectures without ever having private tutors. The ones who make it here aren't dull, whatever their birth."
"They can prove themselves all they want," Yanis replied, voice carrying clear irritation. "It doesn't change who leads and who follows."
They continued the walk, passing by a long row of carriages lined along the outer wall. Squires busied themselves unstrapping cases while clerks directed the students to line up. Each noble family crest gleamed on lacquered wood: a hawk, a rose, a sword.
"You take pleasure in needling me," Yanis muttered.
"Only because you rise to it," Saely replied. "It makes the walk less boring."
Their path slowed as a group of boys in velvet cloaks blocked the way. One of them boasted loudly about his father's lands near the eastern border. Saely leaned closer to Yanis. "Speaking of names, you heard about Vicorra?"
Yanis's lips pressed thin. She lowered her voice but kept her eyes ahead. "Who hasn't? The entire kingdom knows. From generals down to tavern singers. They say their family is finished."
"That's what they said before the trial," Saely replied. "Yet the father walked free. Strange, isn't it? Everyone swore he'd be executed. Dead in the end anyway, though."
Yanis hesitated, then let the words slip in a careful tone. "I wonder what that means for Vencian. He was engaged to Valemont's daughter, wasn't he? And now… he's free."
Saely's gaze flicked toward her with amusement. "Ah. Now it makes sense. You've been thinking about him."
Yanis bristled. "I never said that."
Saely smirked. "Your face does."
Yanis looked away, focusing on the path. She thought of Vencian—handsome, proud once, now weakened… probably. Boys like that were easy when their ground had been cut away. A lap pillow, a few sweet words in their ear, and they belonged to whoever offered comfort. Not that she would ever confess such a thought aloud.
"Stop twisting my words." Yanis straightened her posture.
Saely let the silence stretch as they neared the registration desk. The clerk scribbled furiously while waving them forward. Yanis handed over her parchment, watching carefully as the quill etched "Rusmar" into the ledger.
"You act like the ink will vanish if you don't stare at it," Saely said, amused.
"You saw how they miswrote Fidril last year. I won't have the same mistake with my family," Yanis shot back.
Saely laughed lightly. "Fine. But if you think you'll impress Vencian Vicorra by scolding clerks, I doubt it works that way."
Yanis turned sharply toward her, color rising to her cheeks. "I never said I wanted to impress him."
"You didn't need to." Saely's grin widened.
Before Yanis could retort, a murmur spread through the crowd near the gate. Several students craned their necks, pointing toward a carriage rolling across the cobblestones. The lacquered panels bore a silver-winged moon, the crest of House Vicorra. The wheels slowed as it approached the entrance, guards riding close on either side.
Yanis's eyes fixed on it, her breath caught in her throat.
Saely folded her arms and watched her friend. "Well then. Speak of the fallen."
— — —
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