The Last Godfall: Transmigrated as the Young Master

Roselys stood in the middle of the abandoned quarter, the quiet of the late winter air settling around the worn stone and bare trees. Her coat was buttoned neatly and her gloves sat tight against her hands, every part of her appearance kept in order. "Why meet here? We could have spoken later."

The man reached into his coat and withdrew a thin stack of papers. He placed them in her hands without hesitation.

"These are the last of Professor Danis's documents. The ones I was holding back. I took them from his secret safe."

Roselys accepted the stack of papers in silence. The folder's surface was rough, corners bent from being handled more than once. She opened the folder wide and saw the familiar slant of Danis Belwyn's handwriting spread across several pages. The ink marks were unmistakably hers.

These are fewer than I expected…

"Are these really the last ones?" she asked.

The man nodded once. His clerk's uniform appeared freshly pressed, his stance firm as if he had decided long before to make this meeting happen.

"Yeah. That's all I had and that's all I can offer."

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving the city tomorrow." His voice didn't waver, though his fingers flexed at his side.

The words landed heavier than she expected. She snapped the folder closed and looked at him. "But why? Weren't you the one who wanted to find the truth as well?"

He gave a small shake of his head. "No. I never said that. I only wanted to hand over what I knew to someone who could give the professor justice."

Her grip on the folder stiffened. "So that's it? You'll walk away now?"

The words came out more strained than accusing. She shook her head lightly, strands of her pale hair slipping forward as she tried to ground herself.

"I understand why you're afraid," she continued. "I've seen what happens to those who resist. But if everyone pulls away, what will be left of her name?"

The man exhaled, still looking at the ground. "It doesn't matter, ma'am. I'm a servant. People like me have no power to act against things like this. My loyalty to the professor ends here. I have a family to protect, and I will not risk them further."

His words hit harder than she wanted to admit. He had a point. Common people always suffered the consequences of decisions made by those in power, and she understood their limited options once someone marked them as dangerous.

If I were in his place, maybe I would choose the same.

When she looked at him again, his gaze brushed past the pink of her eyes before he turned aside. She let it pass, knowing he had already made his choice.

"I won't ask more of you," she said. "Thank you for bringing these to me. She would have wanted at least this much."

His eyes met hers for a moment before he bowed his head and left at a measured pace, not waiting for her to answer.

Roselys stayed where she was, staring after him until he disappeared down the path between the ruins.

So this is how it will be. Alone again.

Her thoughts circled back to Danis. To others she had been a mentor, but to Roselys she was something more difficult to name. The woman's presence had given her a sense of belonging that still felt rare in her life, and losing that left a silence Roselys had never managed to fill.

When she finally turned back, the sky above the academy's edge had darkened. She drew a slow breath and started toward the main path. She walked at a steady pace, somewhere between determination and resignation.

— — —

Vencian pressed his back against the wall of the broken shelter. He resisted the urge to glance after Roselys, knowing it would only risk her catching him.

Quenya reappeared at his shoulder. "I heard all of it," she whispered and started to tell him what had passed between Roselys and the man, every word carried without omission.

Vencian nodded slowly, his hand brushing against the rough stone beside him.

Danis Belwyn…

I don't know much about her… only the news I once heard of her death from natural causes. To think there might be a conspiracy behind it too…

He remained still at first. The silence pressed in, broken only by the faint hum of Quenya's presence. She tilted her head toward him. "Do you care to act on this?"

He didn't answer right away. His thoughts shifted instead to what already weighed on him—his mysterious transmigration, the political enemies, the unanswered questions surrounding the scarlet trail across the moon. Adding Roselys's burden to his own felt reckless.

Best to leave it. My concern with her should stay limited to the details I want from her.

Quenya studied him but remained quiet. He folded his arms, letting the possibilities run through his mind. Each option led to more complications.

After a moment, he stepped away from the wall. "We're done here."

They stayed there a few minutes longer, listening for movement. When no one passed near, Vencian circled back the way he came. The silence grew thicker, broken only by the soft sound of his steps on the hard earth.

His original plan had been to confront Roselys directly. But after watching the exchange, the idea felt wasteful.

It can wait a bit more. It's not like I don't have other things to do.

He returned to the academy, slipping through a side corridor into the library. The bundle he had left on the corner table remained untouched. He gathered his things and moved on without delay.

The library's murmur filled the background.

He stepped out into the hall with his satchel slung over one shoulder. The day's light was fading, casting long shadows through the academy's windows.

By the time he reached the main entrance, he had already decided to head for the carriage. He had spent enough hours in the academy today, and another task waited for him elsewhere.

I have to make a trip to that place too.

The courtyard beyond the entrance was less crowded than before. He walked toward the waiting area near the gates, scanning for the coachman who would bring his carriage around.

That was when he noticed the man standing near one of the benches. Tall, neatly dressed in professor's robes, his presence carried the weight of recognition.

Marvik Montaro.

Vencian's stride slowed, though he didn't stop outright. Exactly the kind of person I'd prefer not to meet today.

Quenya hovered near his shoulder, lowering her voice.

"That one is Marvik Montaro?"

Vencian's mouth tilted, not quite a smile. "Hard to miss a man so eager to be seen."

He shifted his shoulder, straightening the strap across his chest. Whether by accident or intent, his path would bring him close enough for the professor to notice him.

He lingered by the gates, waiting for the carriage. Voices carried from the benches. He caught the name "Viccora" among them, sharp enough to pull his attention. Without turning, he listened.

Marvik Montaro sat angled toward another professor, his words sounded sympathetic but carried mockery underneath. "It is a tragedy, really. A house that once carried weight reduced to nothing. One wonders how much worse it can become."

The other man gave a polite laugh. Vencian kept his gaze forward, but the disdain beneath Marvik's mask was plain. Vencian didn't turn. So the dog performs for his bench mate.

Marvik's eyes slid toward him. The pause was short, then his voice carried more deliberately. "Ah, young Lord Vicorra. Forgive me, I did not see you there." He rose smoothly, the other professor excusing himself quickly, leaving the two alone.

"You must find it difficult, bearing all of this on your own. The trial, your family's assassination… and now the silence that follows. It must be harder than you let on." Marvik's expression showed pity, but the sneer sat just beneath it.

Vencian turned his head enough to meet his eyes. His own voice stayed calm. "I've borne it well enough." A pause, then his mouth curved faintly. "Though I admit, it must be harder for you. Have they recovered the body of your bastard brother yet? Or is Osrick still counted as missing?"

Marvik's jaw tightened for a breath, though his mask of pity did not slip far. He gave a low chuckle. "Still sharp with the tongue, I see. But talking won't change the facts. Your engagement ended as quickly as your family's fortune. Lady Seris, poor girl—perhaps she decided the Vicorra name was too heavy for her."

Vencian's gaze lingered a moment before shifting back toward the gate. Annoying, really. He's convinced his comeback hit, but it didn't at all. And I can't do a damn thing about it.

"I wish her well," Marvik said simply. "Discarding what you cannot carry is wise. Perhaps you'll learn it too someday."

The brief silence stretched before Marvik gave a dismissive smile, tilting his head as if in pity. "I hope you find peace with that outlook, Lord Vicorra." With that, he turned and walked off, robes brushing lightly against the stone path.

Vencian watched him leave but gave nothing more. He shifted his shoulder back, a small motion to ease the weight, and let the calm return to his face.

His eyes drifted for a moment, unbidden, to the memory of the afternoon. He had seen Aline walking across the campus, another girl at her side. The figure had caught his attention at once. Even without remembering her face, he had known who it was.

Seris.

Recognition stirred nothing beyond a dull impression. What struck him instead was the elegance of her bearing, the kind that drew eyes without effort. He could admire it, yet the memories remained unreachable. Strange.

The sound of carriage wheels broke his thought. He straightened, letting the memory drift, and stepped forward to meet the waiting coach.