Chapter 22
The Tides of Two Worlds
The next week settled into a strange, dual rhythm for Kaelen. Aboard the Pioneer's Dawn, his days were structured by the ship's unwavering schedule. Mornings were for physical conditioning in the vast training hall. He'd often find Jax there, who had taken his advice to heart. Instead of trying to create fireballs, the pyro-kinetic was now intensely focused on maintaining a single, steady flame on the tip of his finger, his face a mask of concentration. Roric would be nearby, his stony skin grating as he worked against calibrated resistance machines, pushing his physical limits. Luna moved through fluid, dance-like forms that manipulated the humidity in the air, while Elara sat in a psionic booth, her brow furrowed as she practiced shielding her mind from the emotional cacophony of the ship.
They explored the ship's structured layers. The upper levels housed command, navigation, and the privileged quarters—a world of polished metal and quiet efficiency they only heard about. Their world was the middle decks: the bustling mess halls, the training facilities, the recreational arenas, and the densely populated residential sectors, a micro-society of thousands. The lower decks were a mystery, housing the ship's powerful Aether-FTL drive, engineering, and cargo holds, off-limits to all but specialized crew.
Evenings were for shared meals and quiet reflection in their cabins. The initial excitement had faded into the reality of a long voyage, a sense of suspended animation as they hurtled through the void.
But for Kaelen, true life, true progress, happened when the ship's lights dimmed. In Valeria, two months had flowed by like a swift river. The autumn deepened, painting the forests around Bluestone in fiery hues. He settled into his role as Lord, his authority now unquestioned. The villagers' wariness had melted into genuine respect, forged through shared labor and his visible dedication.
The highlight came on a crisp afternoon that marked Renly's nineteenth birthday. He hadn't mentioned it, but Elder Elron and the villagers had not forgotten. They presented him with a new, finely crafted cloak clasp bearing his Bluestone sigil. As a celebration, Renly led a hunting party for a great-stag, a low-risk but prestigious quarry. The hunt was successful, and the village square erupted into a spontaneous feast that evening. A bonfire roared, the stag roasted on a spit, and the air was filled with laughter, music, and the scent of roasting meat and mulled wine. Lyra and Will, now his steadfast attendants, ensured his cup was never empty. For a few hours, Kaelen let Renly's life fully consume him, feeling the simple, profound joy of belonging. It was a feeling his other self, drifting in a metal box between stars, had never truly known.
The next morning, however, brought a sobering clarity. As he practiced the Breath of the Wild at dawn, Renly contemplated his progress. The well of vital force within him was deep and steady, but its growth had plateaued. At his current rate, reaching the threshold of a Senior Knight—mastering his bloodline and acquiring a combat skill—could take six or seven years. The thought was frustrating. He needed a catalyst.
The following day, he announced a trip to Frostfall, the village of Ser Eldric, under the pretext of discussing regional security with his fellow Knight. He took a small escort of militiamen, the journey through the vibrant, chilly forests a refreshing change.
Frostfall was nestled in a high valley, a stark, beautiful place of stone houses and mist-wreathed peaks. Ser Eldric, a lean, serious man of twenty-four with sharp features and hair the color of frost, welcomed him warmly. His keep was modest but well-ordered, filled with the sounds of a young family—his wife, a gentle woman named Anya, and their toddling son.
After the formalities, the two young Knights sat by a roaring hearth, sharing a horn of spiced mead.
"I'll be direct, Eldric," Renly said, staring into the flames. "The Breath of the Wild has taken me far, but I feel I've reached its limit for now. I look at Lord Corvan, at the stories of Grand Knights, and the path ahead seems… long. How does one advance faster? How does one acquire a combat skill?"
Eldric sighed, a knowing look in his eyes. "Every first-generation Knight hits this wall, Renly. The paths are few and fraught." He counted them off on his fingers. "First, great contribution. Save a Duke's life, uncover a major plot, perform a feat of legendary valor in a war. A powerful noble family might reward you with a method or a lesser skill as a boon."
"Second, the black market. There are… brokers, in the underworld of larger cities. They trade in pilfered techniques and even diluted beast cores. It's cheaper than the legal route, but incredibly risky. You might buy a flawed method that cripples you, or find an FID dagger in your back after the transaction."
"Third, the legal auctions. Held in the capital and major county cities like Rose. They are exorbitantly expensive and put you on everyone's radar. The Count himself would take note if a new Knight from a backwater fief like ours started bidding on advanced cultivation manuals."
"Most," Eldric concluded with a grimace, "simply stay as they are. They are Official Knights for life, and their children, if they are lucky, might have a better chance. Power is a fortress, Renly, and the gates are heavily guarded."
The conversation naturally drifted to the powers that controlled those gates. "It's all about the succession," Eldric explained, lowering his voice. "The Crown Prince is backed by his maternal grandfather, the Duke of Ironwood, and a whole alliance of old, powerful nobles. They have several experienced Grand Knights. The Second Princess, however, is supported by her aunt, the King's own sister—Lady Olivia, a Pinnacle Knight, one of the most feared warriors in the kingdom. That's the royal faction."
He leaned in. "Our Viscount, and by extension us, has always been neutral. Our lands are on the border, away from the center. Our duty is to the kingdom's shield, not its throne. My advice? Stay out of it. Choosing a side now is a gamble that could see our lands stripped away if the other side wins."
Renly stayed the night, the conversation churning in his mind. The political landscape was a dangerous chessboard, and he was a pawn who aspired to be a player. The easy camaraderie of the birthday feast felt a world away.
At sunrise, he bid farewell to Eldric and Anya and began the journey back to Bluestone. The cold morning air was sharp in his lungs. He had the answers he sought, but they only revealed a steeper, more treacherous path ahead. In both of his lives, it seemed, true advancement required not just strength, but cunning, resources, and a careful navigation of the powerful currents that moved the world.