I followed after Sam.
Inside was a dining hall. To the left stood scattered tables, their surfaces worn down from years of use. A bar counter stretched along the right wall, the faint clatter of dishes echoing from the kitchen behind it.
Ahead rose a staircase, a few steps cracked and broken. Beside it stretched a corridor lined with doors, an old door waiting at its far end.
The smell of old wood and cooking broth drifted through the hall.
Sam turned, gesturing toward a chair.
"Wait here while I fetch Master."
Then he headed down the corridor.
I didn't sit. I stayed standing, eyes following his back until he reached the far door. He swung the door open and walked out. For a moment, I glimpsed the garden beyond. Trees swaying faintly in the background, before the door shut.
His loud voice carried through the walls.
"Master, I'm back! And I brought the boy you mentioned!"
Then silence.
I waited. My thoughts drifted back to Swert and the letter that had brought me here.
I had met him only once, after a youth tournament for swordsmen. He spoke to me after my fight. He told me I had talent and that he would send a letter.
Our estate knights informed me of his identity.
Bertram Swert, the renowned warrior from the Central Continent. A man who had created his own weapon art.
I never imagined I would stand here, in Toran, accepting his proposal.
'But here I stand now…'
Adonis. Theodora. Mother. The ones I swore to protect.
'For them.'
The door creaked open.
Sam stepped in first, his voice following.
"Master, I'd advise you to check his ID. You said he was a noble, but he looks more like a begg—"
My jaw tightened.
Sam cut off, grinning shamelessly as he caught my expression.
He walked toward me, but heavier steps followed close behind.
The door swung wider. My chest tightened. The hairs on my neck stood on end.
Even before I saw him, I felt it. The quiet weight of someone stronger.
Then he appeared.
Bertram Swert.
His frame filled the doorway as he entered with slow, measured steps. He looked no older than thirty. Brown hair brushed back, sharp features, a lean frame with no wasted muscle. But I knew the truth. He was well past sixty, his body renewed by reconstruction.
Sam stopped a few steps away from me. Swert closed the distance, his gaze sweeping the hall before fixing on me.
His voice rumbled low, edged with annoyance.
"Sam, how many times have I told you not to drag beggars into my school? I admire your charity, but this isn't a shelter."
Sam blinked, caught between laughter and confusion.
"Master… that's him. Lucien Ashspire."
Swert's brow furrowed. His gaze sharpened as he studied me.
His voice came firm.
"You are Lucien?"
I bowed quickly, forcing my voice steady.
"Yes, Master."
His eyes narrowed further, as if testing the truth of me. Then he exhaled, brushing a hand down his beard.
"By Ragnar the Great… what happened to our little noble boy?"
'Noble boy.'
The words stung, but they carried no real malice. My mouth twisted into a weak smile.
"The journey was long, Master."
He gave a short nod.
"I suppose it was. Still, you look worse than the beggars in the slums."
My lips twitched.
"So. You've finally decided to accept my offer. How noble of you."
I bowed again.
"I did. And I'm grateful for it. Thank you, Master."
Swert's gaze narrowed once more.
"It's good that you are here. But let's see if you have the skills to stay."
"I'll do my best."
Master Swert covered his nose and turned his attention to Sam.
"See to him. Take him to Iva for a room and food. Then to the baths. And for the gods' sake, find him clothes that don't stink."
Sam grinned.
"Yes, Master."
Swert's eyes drifted back to me, voice steady.
"Rest for today. From tomorrow onward, you will join the training. This is a chance I don't give everyone. Show me why I should teach you."
My throat tightened. I nodded.
Without another word, Swert turned and walked back toward the garden. His figure vanished behind the closing door.
Thud.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Sam stretched his arms and grinned.
"Well. That went better than expected."
I nodded faintly.
"I hope so."
Clap.
He clapped once.
"Good. Let's get you settled. You'll need enough rest for tomorrow."
He crossed to the bar counter and knocked on a small wooden window.
"Iva! Which rooms are free?"
A woman's voice answered, muffled.
"A new arrival?"
"Yes. Came in today."
The square window slid open, and a woman's face appeared. Her hair was tied under a hat, her face lined with age, her brown eyes sharp and skeptical.
"Bert hadn't told me."
"His name's Lucien."
She frowned, muttered under her breath, then ducked away.
"Men. Always the same. No warning, no word. Expect me to do everything."
A moment later, she returned, holding out a key.
"First floor. Last door on the left."
Sam took it with a grin.
"Thanks, Iva. You're the best."
Her lips softened into a faint smile before she snapped the window shut.
"Go. I've got dinner to prepare."
Sam chuckled, twirling the key around his finger as he walked back to me. He leaned in, voice low.
"That's Iva, Master's wife. She runs this place as much as he does. Kind most days, but don't be fooled, slack off and she'll throw you on cleaning duty for weeks."
I followed him into the corridor.
"I'll try to stay out of trouble."
He looked back lazily, smiling.
"You'd better."
We reached the last door. Sam twisted the key, pushed it open, and held it for me. He gave a slight bow, voice dripping with mock respect.
"Your chambers, my lord."
My lips twitched at his performance, but I ignored it. Theodora had trained me well.
'If I react, he wins.'
I stepped across the threshold.
The room was small. A narrow bed against one wall. A desk with a chair. A wardrobe leaning in the corner.
'That's all...'
Sam's voice broke in, now beside me.
"This'll be yours. Not exactly noble comfort, but it's enough."
I smiled faintly, dropping my bag on the floor.
"It's fine. I didn't think it would be better."
I thought it would be better.
'Wasn't Master Swert a renowned warrior? Why is his school so shabby and run-down? Don't tell me…was I tricked? Is it all a scam? But the knights said he was famous...'
Sam's voice cut through my doubts.
"Food's at six in the evening. Breakfast at five. Lunch at midday. Training starts after breakfast. Just show up tomorrow, and the rest will be explained."
I nodded, still unsettled.
He pointed across at the door opposite mine.
"The bath. Shared by everyone on this floor, but empty right now since the others are still training. Go wash. Leave your door open, I'll bring clothes in a bit."
I bowed slightly.
"Thank you."
He waved, grinning.
"Don't thank me yet. See you in the morning."
He winked, then turned away, his steps fading down the corridor.
I waited a moment, watching his back vanish. Then I picked up my bag and set it on the desk.
I opened it and unpacked slowly. There wasn't much. My sword. A few letters. A worn book. My Whisper. I laid them neatly on the desk, each in its place.
Dust clung to my fingers from the wood. I wiped them off and sighed.
'I'll have to clean later.'
I turned and crossed to the bath, pushing the door open.
The scent hit me first. Soap and damp stone.
On the left wall, steel faucets lined up above wooden buckets. Steam rose where hot water trickled from one. A small pool sat in the corner, filled with warm water, its surface rippling faintly in the dim light. A rack and basket waited by the entrance.
I pulled off my filthy boots and carried them in. The wet stone floor chilled my feet. I set the boots aside by a bucket, stripped, and tossed my clothes on the floor.
At the faucets, I scrubbed until the grime of travel lifted from my skin. Brown water ran into the buckets. I lathered soap, ran it over my body, then scrubbed again until I felt clean.
Finally, I stepped into the pool. Heat wrapped around me, sinking deep into my bones. My muscles loosened. For a moment, I just closed my eyes and breathed.
'At last… no more horses. No more ships. Just quiet.'
I don't know how long I stayed, only that my skin had begun to wrinkle.
I climbed out, took a towel from the rack, dried myself, and wrapped it around my waist.
The door creaked as I eased it open. I peeked left, then right. Empty.
I slipped back into my room.
On the bed lay folded clothes. Brown trousers, a white shirt. Simple but clean.
I picked them up and carried them back to the bath.
I tossed the towel into the basket and dressed. The clothes were a little loose, but comfortable. I rinsed my boots, scrubbing away the dirt, then gathered them with my filthy clothes and returned to the room.
Click.
The door closed behind me.
I threw the old clothes in a corner and set my boots near the bed. Then I let myself fall onto the mattress.
Creak.
The frame groaned beneath me. The bed was hard, far rougher than anything at the estate.
But I didn't care. I was just too exhausted.
The room was silent. Only me. Only my thoughts.
The silence didn't last. Soon, images filled my mind.
They always came when I was alone. A reminder of why I was here.
Theodora crying into Mother's arms. Mother's pale face. Father's cold dismissal. Favian's pleased smile. And Adonis...dragged away.
Tears slid down my cheeks. I pressed a sleeve to my eyes.
'You were innocent. I know it. And I couldn't stop it.'
The tears slowed after some breaths. My hand fell to the mattress.
'I'll train. I'll grow stronger. I'll find you. Wherever they've taken you, I'll bring you back.'
I drew a long breath, trying to steady myself.
The exhaustion of travel, the bath's heat, and the weight of my thoughts pressed down. My eyes closed before I realized it.
Sleep took me.
***
Thud.
The sound hit my door like a hammer. I jolted upright, heart racing. Sleep clung to my head, the room tilting, the world a smear of shadow and light.
A voice cut through the fog.
"Come on, princess. Time to wake up. You don't want to be late on your first day, right?"
I rubbed my eyes until the sleepiness vanished. Sam stood at the end of the bed, dressed in the same plain white shirt and brown trousers as me. His hair was messy, his grin wide.
He tapped the bedframe with the side of his boot.
Tap.
"Up, princess."
I brushed a hand down my face and swung my legs over the edge. The floor was cold.
My voice came slow, still thick with sleep.
"What time is it?"
He jerked a thumb toward the corridor.
"Five. Breakfast is ready."
He turned and stepped away, leaving the door wide open.
I stretched until my joints popped. Then pulled my boots on and shut the door behind me.
Click.
The corridor glowed with lightstones. Outside the narrow windows, the sky was still black-blue. Voices drifted from the hall ahead, a low mix of talk and clatter.
Sam's silhouette moved in front of me, one arm raised in a lazy wave.
He spoke without looking back.
"Keep up, Princess.
I followed him into the dining hall. Yesterday, it had been quiet, almost empty. Now it buzzed. The air smelled of warm bread and frying meat. A dozen kids filled the space. Chairs scraped. Plates clinked. Someone laughed. Someone else shushed them.
A voice rose over the rest.
"New one?"
A boy about Sam's age lounged near a pillar. A scar cut under his left eye, and his smirk was already irritating.
Sam slid an arm around my shoulders in a half-hug, tugging me a step forward. His grin widened as he gave me an introduction fitting for my 'status.'
"This pretty boy is Lucien Ashspire. But you can call him princess. First day. Be nice."
A few chuckles. A girl with short hair hid her smile behind her cup. The scarred boy laughed out loud.
Sam patted my shoulder in mock reassurance.
"Don't worry, princess. They don't bite."
The scar boy added, grinning.
"Not yet."
Laughter rippled across the room. I bowed anyway.
"Thank you for the welcome. I hope we get along."
Sam tapped my shoulder.
"Enough for now. Food first. Talk later."
He led me to the counter beneath Iva's serving window. Trays and dishes lined the wood. Steam curled from a pan of eggs. Bread stacked in baskets. Sausages popped in their own fat. Jugs of milk stood beside them.
He handed me a plate.
"Take what you want, eat what you take. If you don't finish, Iva will turn your soul into a mop. Dishes go back here when you're done."
He turned his face to me, smile bright.
"Eat. You'll need it."
He immediately piled half the counter onto his plate. Meat. More meat. Three slices of bread.
I took less. Eggs. A slice of bread. A bit of meat. A glass of milk. Hunger gnawed from travel, but mornings were always slow for me.
By the time I was done, Sam already sat at an empty table, chewing happily.
I joined him, keeping my focus on the plate. The first bite of warm food felt like heaven.
Once I'd eaten enough, I asked,
"What happens next?"
Sam spoke around a mouthful of sausage.
"We eat. Then we go out to the yard for morning greetings."
I drank a sip of milk.
"And then?"
A voice rose from behind me. The scar boy.
"Princess, just eat and let it surprise you."
More laughter. I swallowed my retort with bread.
Sam pointed at me with his sausage.
"Tsk. Princess. One thing at a time. Bad habit of yours. Won't get you far with the ladies."
My lips twitched.
'These guys...'
I stopped my questions and finished my plate in silence, waiting as Sam conquered his mountain.
Clank.
He dropped his fork on the empty plate and stood up.
"Let's go."
I rose after him. We stacked our empty dishes on the counter.
Sam led me down the corridor toward the far end of the building. A door waited there. He pushed it open.
Creak.
Cold air drifted in.
I followed him outside.
The training yard stretched wide behind the building. A circle of sand marked the center. A running lane of hard dirt ringed it, divided by a line of stone. Grass filled the rest, scattered with trees. A high wall of weathered stone enclosed it all. The sky was still dark. Lightstones hung along the walls, casting a pale glow across the yard.
Sam led me toward the center.
The others were already there, forming neat lines on the sand. I counted in my head.
'Twelve.'
Then two more slipped through the door behind us.
'Fourteen. With us, sixteen.'
Sam pointed at the lines.
"Formation by rank. Oldest to youngest, but not by age. Arrival. First stands at the front. Last at the back. You're the last. Stand there. I'm first."
He gave my shoulder a light push.
I walked to the rear of the second line and took my place. The boy ahead stood straight, feet firm, hands locked behind his back, eyes forward.
No one spoke now. The laughter from breakfast was gone.
Silence settled across the group.
We waited for Master Swert.