Corvis Eralith
The wooden practice sword I was holding felt leaden in my grip, the smooth grain slick with sweat. I lunged, putting my full weight behind a clumsy horizontal slash—a move my dear friend Albold had drilled into me a hundred times.
Tessia didn't even blink. Her own practice blade met mine with a sharp crack, not with brute force, but with a precise, almost lazy flick of her wrist. The impact vibrated up my arm, numbing my fingers. My sword tore free, clattering onto the sun-warmed flagstones of the palace courtyard with a sound that echoed my own humiliation.
"We said no magic!" I protested, the whine in my voice making me cringe inwardly. It sounded petulant, childish—a stark contrast to the frustrated individual screaming inside.
Tessia lowered her own sword, the tip still pointed casually in my direction. A triumphant grin spread across her face, bright and infuriating.
"And just like we agreed I didn't use even a whisper of mana, Corvis," she countered, her smirk widening. "Pure skill. And maybe… a bit of knowing exactly how predictable your swings are."
The worst part? She was right. Utterly, devastatingly right. Her core, awakened early and honed with terrifying instinct, had gifted her not just power, but a preternatural grace and speed—or maybe I was just that bad.
My own body, still frustratingly manaless, felt slow, clumsy, trapped in mortal limitations. Moreover I didn't have a single notion on how to fight apart from Albold and Grampa's tips.
"Yeah…" I muttered, the word tasting like dust. I stared at the discarded weapon lying on the stone, a symbol of my powerlessness. This courtyard, bathed in dappled sunlight filtering through ancient trees surrounding the backyard of the palace, was supposed to be a place of training, of preparation.
More often than not, it felt like an arena where Tessia systematically dismantled my already weak pride. Training without magic is polishing a stone in a world of diamonds. The bitter thought echoed. Until my core awakened—if it ever awakened—I was effectively useless in the brutal calculus of the coming conflict.
Yet, waiting passively, ignorant of Arthur's fate while the unseen gears of fate or Agrona turned, was a torment I couldn't endure.
"Don't make that face, Corvis!" Tessia's voice cut through my brooding. She had closed the distance, her expression shifting from triumph to a familiar, sharp concern.
"I hate that look. That serious, distant expression like you're carrying the whole world on your shoulders and it's about to crush you. Like you might just… shatter." Her words hit closer to the mark than she knew.
Before I could muster a deflection, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me in a fierce hug. It wasn't gentle; it was grounding. Her strength, usually a reminder of my lack, now felt like an anchor. The scent of sun-warmed grass and clean sweat clung to her.
In that embrace, the icy knot of strategic dread loosened, just a fraction. She was right. I was carrying the world. The knowledge of fire raining down on Elenoir, of Grampa's broken howl, of mom and dad's deaths, of the Legacy twisting Tessia herself into a weapon… it was a constant, crushing weight.
But Tessia's hug was a visceral reminder: this wasn't just a world to save. It was a family to protect. People who would grieve, not just for a fallen kingdom, but for me. For Corvis. The thought of causing them pain was a sharper spur than any abstract apocalypse.
"Tessia," I murmured into her hair, the question forming before I could overthink its implications. "Do you… do you still want to explore? Outside Zestier? Not just visiting Grandaunt Rinia. Really explore. Like… like the adventurers, no dungeons of course."
She pulled back slightly, her large emerald eyes searching mine, sharp with suspicion. "Yes… of course I do. But why the sudden question?"
Her gaze was penetrating, seeing too much. Why indeed? For weeks, under the guise of newfound scholarly interest in Elenoir's geography—a cover story dad had accepted with surprising encouragement—I had pored over ancient maps, cross-referenced fragmented histories, and analyzed every cryptic mention of dragon sightings or strange mana fluctuations in the original timeline.
My focus: Sylvia's potential hiding place after fleeing Agrona. It was a desperate gamble, a single frayed thread left to pull. And after meticulous, almost obsessive work, I had narrowed it down. A remote, treacherous valley deep in the southern peaks, shrouded in perpetual mist and whispered legends. It felt right. Near the border with Sapin and hidden from civilization.
"I thought," I said, forcing casualness, "maybe we could go somewhere together. Just us. A real adventure."
The lie of omission tasted bitter. There shouldn't be danger. If Sylvia was there, resting, weakened… it could be the jackpot. A chance to warn her, to connect her with Arthur, to alter the course before the storm broke. If she wasn't… signs of Cadell's presence, or her absence, would be vital intelligence.
Either way, I had to act. Passivity was the path to ruin. Proactivity, however risky, was my only weapon now.
As I spoke, a deeper shift resonated within me. The detached observer, the reincarnated soul clinging to an Earthly identity, was fading. The terror of future events wasn't abstract geopolitical horror anymore; it was the visceral, gut-wrenching fear of Corvis Eralith.
The fear of Elenoir's forests burning. Of Grampa's quirky personality silenced forever. Of Mom's gentle touch gone cold. Of Dad's shoulders bowed in defeat in front of Agrona. And Tessia… Tessia consumed by the Legacy's cold fire.
That was the nightmare that stole my breath. The other consequences—the fall of kingdoms, the rise of empires—felt distant, secondary. My world had shrunk, fiercely and irrevocably, to the people in this kingdom.
Tessia studied me, the suspicion slowly melting into thoughtful curiosity, then blossoming into pure, unadulterated excitement. "I'm listening…" she said slowly, a grin starting to tug at the corners of her lips.
"Just that," I shrugged, trying to mirror her nonchalance and failing miserably. "I found some… interesting places on the maps. Remote valleys, hidden waterfalls. I thought you might like to see them. With me."
I couldn't voice the other, humiliating truth: I needed her. Not just for company, but for survival. Even low-level mana beasts, creatures Tessia could likely disperse with a flick of her wrist even at red stage, were lethal threats to a manaless child wandering alone. The admission stung my pride, a constant thorn.
Her grin turned positively predatory. "Is my sweet, serious little brother scared of going alone?" she teased, poking my chest. "Need your strong, incredibly awesome sister to watch your back? Keep the scary squirrels away? Heh?" Her laughter, bright and infectious, echoed in the courtyard.
I rolled my eyes, the familiar gesture hiding a surge of affection. Without Arthur Leywin casting his impossible shadow, I mused, watching her confident stance, Tessia isn't just growing stronger. She's growing bolder, brighter… unapologetically herself.
It was a deviation I cherished, even as it made her an even more formidable sparring partner and a relentless teaser.
"Something like that," I conceded, a reluctant smile finally breaking through.
Tessia Eralith
The border guard shifted his weight, his polished armor glinting in the dappled sunlight filtering through the ancient trees marking the edge of Zestier prefecture.
He looked down at us, concern etched on his weathered face. "Your Highnesses," he repeated, his voice patient but firm, "there's truly nothing out there but the wild edge of the Elshire. Just roots, rocks, and maybe some grumpy badgers. It's not… suitable."
I barely heard him. My heart was doing a little dance against my ribs. Just Corvis and me. Finally. It felt like reaching back through time, snatching a piece of those early days before everything got… complicated.
Before he stopped buildo he walls and tried to vanish.
Back when we were each other's only safe harbor in the vast, sometimes overwhelming palace life. We had been anchors then, moored together. Now… he had Albold (bless hispatience with my clumsy brother), and I had tentative friendships with other noble children, and Corvis… well, Corvis tried.
He talked to Albold, he endured social functions with a stoic face that sometimes cracked into a genuine smile. It was progress. Slow, awkward progress, but progress nonetheless. This trip was our chance to rebuild our bridge—not that it ever broke, but...
"We want to see the wild," Corvis declared beside me, his voice earnest but with that slight edge he got when he was bluffing. He scratched his neck—a dead giveaway. Uh oh.
The guard raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping past us, searching the tree line. "Fine. Where are your escorts, then?"
His tone implied this was the most obvious question in the world. Because it was. My own excitement flickered, replaced by a wave of exasperation. Of course! Mom, Dad, Grampa Virion… they wouldn't let us walk to the market without two guards shadowing us like anxious shadows.
Sending the Crown Prince and Princess into the untamed edge of the Elshire alone? Unthinkable. I shot Corvis a sideways glance, my expression a perfect mirror of the guard's unspoken 'Seriously?' I could almost see the gears grinding to a halt behind his usually sharp silver eyes.
Genius planner, forgetful brother. The sheer predictability of it was almost funny. I bit my lip to hide a smirk, watching the priceless moment of dawning horror on his face. Watching him fumble for words was almost worth the setback.
"I will be accompanying them." The voice, smooth and calm, cut through Corvis's stammering and the guard's expectant silence.
We both turned. A woman stood a few paces away, seemingly having materialized from the dappled shadows beneath a massive oak. Recognition sparked. Baroness Alea Triscan. I had seen her a handful of times at court functions or during brief, formal visits to the palace.
She exchanged polite words with Mother, her demeanor always quiet, observant, radiating a subtle calm. Pretty, with striking white hair and eyes the color of deep lake water.
The guard blinked, clearly thrown. "Baroness? Are… are you certain? This isn't exactly a garden stroll…" His confusion was palpable. A Baroness volunteering as a wilderness escort for royal children?
"Yes, she is perfect!" Corvis blurted out, relief washing over his features so visibly it was like watching tension drain from a coiled spring. Too quickly. Too familiarly.
A tiny, sharp thorn pricked my happiness. How does he know her? She was just… Baroness Triscan. Polite. Distant. I knew she was rumored to be a mage, part of some minor noble family known for discreet service.
But… why couldn't I feel anything? Not even the faintest hum of mana, the subtle warmth that clung to even novice mages like a scent? Grampa Virion could vanish his presence entirely, but he only did that when he wanted to sneak up and ruffle our hair or steal a pastry.
Why would the Baroness be hiding her power right now? The question buzzed in my mind, unwelcome and persistent. It felt… deliberate. Like she was wearing a mask.
The guard, seeing Corvis' endorsement and the Baroness' unwavering composure, finally shrugged, saluting. "As you wish. Stay safe, Your Highnesses, Baroness." He stepped aside, though his expression remained deeply skeptical.
As soon as he was out of immediate earshot, Corvis rounded on the Baroness, his earlier relief morphing into suspicion. "Alea. Were you spying on us?" His voice was low, intense. Not angry, exactly, but… probing. Like he was trying to see beneath her calm surface.
Alea? He called her Alea? Not 'Baroness Triscan'? The thorn dug deeper. A hot, unfamiliar feeling flared in my chest—part jealousy, part indignation. I'm right here, Corvis! I wanted to shout. Your sister! The one who actually wants to spend time with you! You don't need her! My hands clenched unconsciously at my sides. I glared at my brother, willing him to feel the heat of my stare, to remember I existed.
Baroness Triscan merely chuckled, a soft, melodic sound that felt strangely out of place. She waved a dismissive hand, whistling a few off-key notes. "Spying? Perish the thought, Your Highness. Just taking a scenic walk. Happened to overhear you two."
Her nonchalance was flawless. Too flawless. It felt practiced. And the way Corvis looked at her… it wasn't the way he looked at Albold, or Grampa, or even Mom and Dad. It was… intrigued, like she wasn't someone he could read like an open book.
It was one of the things I both resented and cherished about my brother—his uncanny ability to read us like an open book, as if he had memorized every page of our lives. He understood us effortlessly, especially me… yet I barely knew anything about Corvis. We were twins! So why was he the only one who truly understood the other!? The thought burned in my mind as I wrestled with the frustration.
"Tessia?" Corvis's voice broke through my furious scrutiny. I blinked, realizing I had been staring at him with an intensity that could probably melt stone. He tilted his head, a flicker of genuine concern in his silver eyes.
"You seemed to be trying to dig a hole straight through me with that look. Everything alright?"
No, everything is not alright! I screamed internally. Who is she? Why are you so comfortable with her? Why is she hiding her magic? Why does she get to approach us and come on our adventure? But all that came out, thankfully muffled by the sheer force of my own stubbornness, was a tight, "Fine."
I forced my hands to unclench, plastering on a smile that felt brittle. "Just… wondering what's so fascinating about the border, brother." My voice was light, but the undercurrent of hurt and suspicion vibrated beneath the surface, a discordant note only I could hear.
Our perfect adventure already felt… shared. And I didn't like sharing our few moments alone.