Damian watched as the servants loaded the horse-drawn carriage that had pulled up to the front of the building with boxes containing his clothes and other possessions.
This carriage was meant to take him to the Royal School of Combat inside the Elyandran capital, just a few kilometers from the Greythorne mansion.
Unlike other nobles, Darius had chosen to build his home outside the capital.
"We're just about done, young master," Jack said, and Damian nodded.
Here he was, about to begin a stage in his life he had looked forward to for the past five years.
When he received the letter informing him that he was chosen as an Exceptional by the school, he was elated. This was the opportunity he needed to finally live a life outside this building.
Since the lockdown, his father had instructed Jack to homeschool him, but this letter was going to change that—or so Damian thought.
Darius had blatantly forbidden him from going the moment Damian told him about it. No amount of pleading moved the man, and eventually, Damian gave up.
This only deepened the hatred in his heart for his father.
However, one day, Jack came to him and, to Damian's surprise, told him that Darius had agreed to let him go to the Royal School of Combat.
Damian didn't know what had changed his father's mind, as he was sure Darius' decision had been set, but It didn't really matter; all that he wanted had come to pass.
Now it was time to leave. Yet, the elation he had expected wasn't there.
Could it be that he felt strange finally leaving the mansion after years, or was it the fact that his father wasn't here to send him off?
No, it definitely couldn't be the latter.
To treat his own son like a criminal without explanation was something Damian couldn't forgive. Just as Darius avoided him, Damian did the same. Nothing concerning his father could possibly move him.
Even if the man died today, he likely wouldn't care.
Maybe he had just grown attached to his home over the years. It wasn't like he had anything else to be attached to anyway so it made sense. To some degree.
"I'm sorry that I'm all you have today, young master," Jack said, smiling slightly. "I hope I am enough."
"Don't worry, old man, you're more than enough." Damian hugged him, and Jack's smile widened.
Jack patted his head. "I'll surely miss you, sire."
"Relax, old man," Damian said, breaking the hug. "I'm not going away forever."
"I do humbly ask that you try to keep safe, young master. The school is a place created to train warriors; fighting is a large part of its curriculum," Jack advised.
"You attended the school, yes? What is it like?" Damian asked.
"You'll find out soon enough," Jack replied. "But as I said before, be careful. Your name will inspire fear, but it will also bring you challenges."
"I'll try my best." Damian smiled as he turned and climbed into the carriage, the door closed by one of the servants.
As the servants and Jack bowed to send him off, Damian's smile faded when he saw his father standing in the doorway, watching him with a blank expression.
The carriage began to move as the coachman took control of the reins.
Jack and the servants turned to enter the building, only to find Darius still standing in the doorway, arms folded.
"My lord," Jack greeted him.
"Is it done?" Darius asked.
"I have sent word as you commanded. There is nothing to worry yourself over," Jack replied, and Darius nodded before turning and walking back into the building.
"There better not be," he whispered under his breath.
---
Damian watched as the carriage approached the gates of the Greythorne compound, holding his breath as the moment he had dreamed about for so long unfolded before him.
He still remembered the many times he had tried to escape the mansion, only to be caught by the guards. But here they were, opening the gates for him to pass through.
He still feared they could send him back, that this was all a cruel joke from his father. But as the carriage passed through the gates and no one stopped them, Damian exhaled and laughed softly.
He was out.
For the first time in years, he was finally out.
Suddenly, he heard the sounds of approaching horses, and soon they were surrounded by six knights on horseback. Two moved to the front, two to the back, and two at both sides of the carriage, riding alongside them.
Confused, Damian looked up at one of the knights beside the carriage.
"We are to guard you to the capital, young master," the knight said, and Damian nodded, breathing a sigh of relief.
The rest of the ride passed without further surprises. The road was remarkably well-maintained, and Damian hadn't felt a single bump throughout the trip.
And that was to be expected.
Elyandra was one of the most prosperous kingdoms on the continent, with military might and wealth that could almost rival even that of the Great Miodran Empire—a feat of no small measure.
Elyandra was one of the four kingdoms in the Uriomm continent. Damian didn't know much about the other kingdoms, but he knew Elyandra was allied with two of them, and together they prospered in a symbiotic relationship.
As they neared the capital's gates, Damian's awe grew. It was just as he remembered it: thick walls that soared almost a thousand meters, and grand gates that seemed impregnable, despite being open at the moment.
Hundreds of knights guarded the path, while even more patrolled high above on the walls.
The capital was truly a testament to Elyandra's power.
The road leading into the capital had an organized crowd of people seeking entry being scrutinized by guards, but the crowd parted to allow Damian's carriage and the knights to pass.
"Halt," one of the guards ordered, and they stopped. "Declare."
"The house of Greythorne," replied the knight at the front of the carriage. Immediately, murmurs spread among the crowd.
After all, Greythorne was a household name—the house of the most powerful man in the world! Could he be in the carriage?
Damian could hear the murmurs and instinctively moved away from the windows. Though the attention was flattering, he remembered how he was practically harassed whenever he went out with his parents as a child.
If these people found out the heir of House Greythorne, who hadn't been seen in years, was here, the guards would have to join his to hold back the crowd.
Admiration was wonderful, but it had its downsides.
"Why do you not fly your house flag?" the guard asked curiously.
"Private reasons," the knight answered, handing the guard some papers, which the latter quickly reviewed before handing back.
The guard then signaled to those behind him, who made way for them to pass.
Damian watched as they entered the capital. If there was one word to describe the city, it would be 'grand'.
As they entered the Elyandran capital, Damian was struck by the city's breathtaking beauty. Tall stone buildings with intricate carvings lined the cobbled streets, each more elaborate than the last, with balconies adorned with metal railings and decorative glass windows.
The streets were bustling with carriages and finely dressed people, their footsteps echoing on the stone as they moved purposefully.
The air carried faint scents of coal, horses, fresh bread from bakeries, and tea from nearby cafes. Street vendors sold brightly colored fabrics and finely crafted jewelry, while musicians played violins and accordions, infusing the streets with a lively energy.
Beyond the markets, imposing public buildings rose above the streets, adorned with pillars and stone gargoyles, symbols of the kingdom's wealth and authority.
The famous Elyandran clock tower's tall spires loomed in the distance, chiming each hour with a deep tone that resonated through the city.
This was a place of pride and order, where every stone reflected the kingdom's strength and elegance.
Damian's gaze wandered from one magnificent sight to another. He had been here before, but the city was no less beautiful now.
The carriage continued until they reached a quieter part of town, where most Elyandran nobles resided. Here lived high-ranking royal knights, prominent noble families, and even both.
Suddenly, the carriage came to a halt.
Damian looked out at the knight by the window. "What's going on?"
"I apologize, young master, but we must follow a few rules set by the school," the knight said.
"Rules?" Damian was puzzled.
"No first-year student is allowed to know the school's exact location, for both security and academic purposes," the knight replied.
"What? Why?"
The knight stretched out his hand, palm open to Damian. "Good luck, young master."
Before Damian could respond, a bright flash of light filled his vision, and then, darkness.
---
Damian opened his eyes to see the ceiling above him. He felt sluggish and exhausted.
Sitting up, he groaned as he rubbed his head, then looked around to take in his surroundings. He was in a small room with three beds lined up along the walls, each with a wardrobe next to it. Damian was on the bed opposite the door.
On the bed to his left was a boy with blond hair sitting cross-legged and reading a book with pitch-black covers.
"Uh… hello?" Damian called out, but the boy didn't respond.
"Ah, you're awake!" a voice said from the door.
Damian turned to see a boy entering. He had long gray hair tied back in a ponytail and wore a wide smile as he approached.
The boy extended a hand to Damian, catching him by surprise. "My name is Harry Brom! Welcome to the Royal School of Combat!"