A gentle hum echoed from the golden-framed carriage as it glided over the cobbled roads of Velebrandt—so smooth, so serene, that one might have mistaken the journey for a dream. The carriage, a masterpiece of craftsmanship and magical refinement, bore the family sigil of House Velebrandt—a majestic winged lion wrought in gold upon deep sapphire banners fluttering gently along its sides. A faint magical glow encased the wheels, muffling every jolt and stone, making the entire interior feel like a drifting palace.
Inside, Lucien Caelum Velebrandt sat in one of the plush crimson velvet seats, legs curled under him as he peeked through the ornate, circular window beside him. With every passing minute, familiar scenes of his childhood played out like a slow-moving diorama. Children ran down stone alleyways, laughing and hurling spinning tops at each other. Women haggled joyfully at vibrant fruit stalls, their arms full of bright produce. Blacksmiths pounded away with rhythmic intensity, and elderly men sat beneath shaded awnings playing board games and sipping tea. It was the same town he had once roamed in wide-eyed wonder with Knight Rex, now passed by in a blur of nostalgia.
Lucien narrowed his eyes, focusing on the crowd's motions. Despite the countless people, everything seemed calm, controlled—peaceful. For a brief moment, he almost forgot he was on a journey to leave it all behind. A sigh slipped from his lips.
"These cobbled streets... they've been part of me for years now," he murmured, resting his chin in his hand. "And now, they'll be part of my memories instead."
The silence in the carriage was tranquil. No clatter of hooves, no cries from outside—only the soft creak of wood and the heartbeat of magic pulsing through the enchanted frame. It was then Lucien realized: this carriage was not ordinary. The air was cool despite the afternoon sun, and not even the breeze outside could ruffle a single lock of his silver hair. Runes etched into the inner wall confirmed it—this carriage had been enchanted by high-class mages to mute external noise, stabilize movement, and regulate internal comfort.
"So this is what nobility gets to enjoy," he said with a faint smile, brushing his fingertips over the carved runes. "Even our transportation is as luxurious as a royal bedchamber."
Outside the thick-glass window, the town finally began to thin. Trees appeared, winding roads bent through open fields, and the landscape changed from the bustling heart of civilization to stretches of farmland and noble estates. At the far edge of the horizon, towering high like a titan's barricade, stood the city walls of Velebrandt's territory—gargantuan stone structures that marked the separation between the estate and the world beyond.
Lucien pressed his face closer to the window.
"So that's the gate to the rest of the world..."
The closer they drew, the more imposing it became. Massive guard towers dotted the wall's edges, each manned by knights in black-and-gold armor bearing the winged lion crest. Magic arrays floated above the parapets, ready to unleash destruction at a moment's notice.
He stared for a long moment.
Two years ago, those walls had felt like the edge of the world. Now, they were the gateway to his true beginning.
Still, strangely, he wasn't giddy. No pounding heart, no trembling hands. Just calm.
Lucien turned away from the window, reclining into the plush seat. His body had grown over the last two years—no longer childishly small, though still far from the stature of a teenager. His legs comfortably reached the edge of the carriage's lounge seat, and his silver hair shimmered faintly under the enchanted lamps affixed to the roof. He looked every bit the noble boy he was raised to be—graceful, composed, and draped in refined travel wear of charcoal and white.
He let his arms rest behind his head and gazed up through the tiny skylight—a magical circle of transparent crystal that showed the brilliant azure sky. Clouds drifted lazily across it, like slow dancers in the wind.
His thoughts wandered.
He thought about his mother, Seraphina Lysandra Velebrandt—now pregnant again. She had cried softly this morning, even as she kissed his forehead with grace and pride. Her golden hair had shimmered like sunlight, her voice trembling as she gave her son a dozen instructions.
He thought about his younger brother, Emilien, now four years old, with a mop of silver hair and twin gray eyes that always followed Lucien like a chick after its mother. That morning, Emilien had hugged his older brother tightly and sniffled, clearly not wanting to be parted.
And of course, Marie—his maid and confidante—who had packed his travel gear herself, hiding sweets in the folds of his cloak and whispering, "Don't you dare let anyone bully you, young master."
It was a strange feeling, this calmness. As if he were caught between two dreams: the one he was leaving behind, and the one that was just about to begin.
Outside, the walls passed them by. The gates opened in a majestic motion as magic triggered the defensive locks to allow their caravan through.
Lucien didn't even blink.
He was already drifting, lulled by the steady rhythm of the magic carriage.
His thoughts flickered again, lazily.
"So... I'll awaken soon," he thought. "Ten years old. That's when they test us. Mana, aptitude, potential... what'll they find in me?"
He smirked faintly.
"Well, whatever it is—it won't be average."
The sun drifted past the treetops now. The journey beyond the estate would last at least another day before reaching the capital of the Empire where the Awakening Ceremony would be held. Lucien closed his eyes, the clouds still etched into the back of his mind.
The last thing he saw was the soft swirl of wind brushing past the window.
And then he slept.
Peacefully.
The boy who once feared death, who once found himself in a strange body, was now—perhaps for the first time—at peace with who he was becoming.
_________
The gentle sway of the carriage had lulled Lucien into a restful sleep, but now, as he felt a soft nudge at his shoulder, his consciousness stirred. His silver lashes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the faint glow inside the luxurious Velebrandt carriage. Before him stood Marie, her warm brown eyes filled with affection, her usual calm and elegant demeanor tinged with a playful smile.
"Young Master," she whispered, her voice smooth like silk, "we've arrived at one of the inns along the road. It's best to eat something and rest in a proper bed tonight."
Lucien blinked away the last traces of sleep, stretching his small limbs and letting out a low groan, his joints popping slightly in protest. His cloak rustled as he moved, and he gave a small yawn before nodding at Marie. With her help, he stepped down from the carriage and into the crisp night air.
Outside, darkness had claimed the landscape, but the world was far from pitch black. Above, the twin moons cast a gentle, argent glow, their pale blue and silvery white light filtering through the canopy of trees surrounding the roadside inn. The cobbled road shimmered faintly under the moons' light, like a river of stone.
Lucien took in the scene before him with quiet wonder. The inn was large, rustic yet inviting, built with dark timbers and glowing lanterns hanging under the eaves. A comforting warmth spilled from the windows, accompanied by the muffled sounds of laughter, clinking tankards, and tavern music played by some unseen minstrel.
The magical horses—creatures cloaked in flickering shadows, their dark flaming auras smoldering gently—were being tended by six A-rank knights. Each knight moved with the confidence and discipline of a trained warrior, tying the enchanted reins to large trees that shimmered slightly with magic runes carved into their trunks. The horses neighed softly, their glowing eyes scanning their surroundings with mild wariness.
Lucien stood silently beside Marie, his gaze drifting between the surreal majesty of the magical beasts and the cozy brilliance of the inn. It was hard to believe he was still within the same world that once felt foreign to him. The longer he lived in it, the more it felt like a novel where he belonged.
His musing was interrupted by the familiar and firm voice of Knight Rex.
"Ah, you're awake," Rex said, approaching from the inn's entrance. His towering form loomed in the moonlight, his armor gleaming subtly under his cloak. "I've made arrangements for our lodging. I also tested the food for poisons. It's safe."
Lucien raised an eyebrow in amusement at Rex's matter-of-fact tone. "Ever the cautious knight," he muttered, earning a chuckle from Marie.
"Come. Let's get inside."
Together, the trio walked into the inn. The wooden doors creaked open, revealing a sprawling tavern hall alive with energy. The scent of roasted meats and savory stews filled the air, mingling with the faint tang of ale and the sweetness of baked pastries. Warm golden light radiated from lanterns suspended on thick beams overhead, casting a soft, inviting glow.
Adventurers, merchants, and travelers filled the many wooden tables. Some played cards, others shared loud tales of glory and monsters slain, and a few simply ate in silence, savoring their meals. A bard strummed a lute near the fireplace, singing a jaunty tune about a maiden who outwitted a dragon.
At the far end of the hall stood a long counter made of polished dark oak. Behind it, a green-haired boy in an apron was diligently wiping a glass, his movements precise despite the chatter around him.
Rex led Lucien and Marie past several bustling tables until they reached an empty one tucked near a window. "Take a seat," he said. "The rest of the knights will handle their own arrangements."
The six A-rank knights dispersed quietly, choosing another table across the hall. Lucien slid onto the bench beside Marie, and Rex took the opposite side. The seat was polished smooth by years of use, but the cushions beneath were soft and welcoming.
Not long after, a young server approached, his clothes plain and slightly tattered, but his demeanor respectful. He handed them a stiff parchment menu, worn at the edges but still legible.
"What can I get you this evening?" he asked politely, his eyes lingering on Lucien with mild curiosity.
Lucien scanned the menu, reading dishes like Spiced River Serpent, Roast Chimeric Boar, Ember-Touched Vegetables, and Hearth-Baked Bread with Enchanted Honey. He looked to Marie, then Rex, who gave a nod.
"Let's try something safe but hearty," Rex suggested. "Maybe the chimera roast. It's flavorful and mild in mana concentration."
Marie agreed, ordering a vegetable dish with baked bread, and Lucien chose the same roast as Rex, eager to taste something unique.
While they waited, Lucien observed the room. He watched a group of dwarves laugh thunderously at a joke, a hooded elf sip from a silver chalice with grace, and a pair of young beastkin children share a sweet pie at a nearby table. The diversity of races fascinated him. Every corner of the world felt like it converged in this single inn.
Their food arrived steaming hot. The roast glistened with golden fat and a fragrant glaze. With a curious hum, Lucien took a bite. The meat was tender, bursting with complex flavors, hints of wild herbs, and a subtle tang that danced on his tongue.
"Delicious," he murmured.
Rex grunted in agreement, already halfway through his plate.
After the meal, they climbed a narrow staircase to the second floor, creaking wood underfoot. Rex led them to a suite with two rooms: one for Lucien, and the other shared by Marie and two of the knights. The rest would rotate patrol downstairs.
Lucien entered his room, the lanterns flickering to life with a whisper of magic. The bed was wide and soft, a fur-lined blanket draped neatly across it. A carved desk sat near the window, and a basin for washing stood in the corner.
Marie helped him change into his sleepwear and handed him a small enchanted pebble that glowed faintly.
"Tap this twice if you need anything," she said.
"Thanks, Marie," he replied, already sinking into the bed.
As she left the room and the door clicked shut, Lucien stared at the wooden ceiling above, his mind drifting to the journey ahead. Only a few days remained before his Awakening. A strange excitement pulsed in his chest.
And as the lull of sleep claimed him once more.