The initial awe of the Thornevale display soon gave way to excitement as the students turned their attention to the view below.
Rivers shimmered like threads of silver, forests spread out like emerald carpets, and the occasional monster—hulking from this height—looked no bigger than an ant.
Even Ace, usually composed, found himself leaning slightly forward in his seat, eyes tracing the winding waterways and the patchwork of green and gold fields. For a brief moment, he let himself admire the sheer beauty of it.
But as the griffins soared on, a thought crept in.
'In the novel, nothing happened during the journey to the first three city… but after that?' He glanced at the Thornevale guards in their protective ring.
'I won't need this many but nothing wrong with being cautious.'
By noon, the formation descended toward the first base—a cluster of large military tents, smoke curling from cooking fires. The smell of spiced meat and fresh bread greeted them as they landed.
The moment the griffins landed, the academy guards moved quickly, their ranks snapping into place to secure the perimeter.
But it was the Thornevale guards who changed everything.
As they dismounted, their presence alone seemed to warp the very air around them.
Mana pulsed from their bodies, thick and suffocating, crackling with raw power.
The tension in the atmosphere was palpable—heavy enough that even the most seasoned warriors among the academy's ranks straightened instinctively, feeling the weight of that oppressive energy bearing down on them.
Ace had already sent his own orders—Thornevale guards fanned out seamlessly, forming an impenetrable second layer of security, their movements so precise they might as well have been rehearsed. The entire scene radiated an aura of controlled power, like a predator circling its prey.
Ace and Lucy were just about to take a seat near the central dining tent when Pete, flanked by Catherine and Emelia, approached with Pete and Catherine radiating that self-assured, infuriatingly smug confidence.
Pete's voice rang out, carrying that all-too-familiar heroic lilt—an infuriating mix of condescension and faux camaraderie.,
"You shouldn't have brought your own guards," Pete said, his smile barely concealed. "You could've traveled with us—maybe you'd even learn something from me."
The words slid under Ace's skin like a blade.
His eyes narrowed, a glint of pure, controlled fury flashing across his face. Without hesitation, he rose, his movements fluid and precise, as if the world around him had suddenly slowed. Mana surged through him—violent, unrestrained, like the first crack of a storm on the horizon.
"Annoying bastard," he muttered, hand drifting toward his sword.
But before the blade could even leave its sheath, the air itself seemed to tense. A sudden, bone-chilling snap echoed through the space as twenty Thornevale master ranked warriors were suddenly at Ace's back, their presence like a tidal wave of raw power.
In the blink of an eye, their swords were leveled at Pete and Catherine, their sharp tips glinting in the sunlight, each one poised to strike with terrifying precision.
Pete froze, too stunned to even grasp what had just happened. Catherine blinked in confusion, oblivious to the lethal intent pointed at her.
But Emelia—her instincts sharper—felt the killing pressure in the air and immediately took several steps back, her gaze flicking from Ace to the blades poised inches from Pete's chest.
Then—"STOP! No fighting!"
Sarena came sprinting between them, her voice ringing across the base.
Ace didn't relax his stance. His voice was low but edged with warning.
"Get him out of my sight. Don't let him near me again."
Sarena's eyes flashed, but she turned on Pete instead."You—don't get close to him again."
Pete opened his mouth to argue, but she seized his arm and all but dragged him away before he could get another word out.
Only when they were gone did Ace slide his sword fully back into its sheath, flicking his fingers in a small signal.
The Thornevale guards melted away as quickly as they had appeared, resuming their perimeter as if nothing had happened.
The base's chatter slowly resumed, but the tension lingered in the air. Whispers spread like wildfire:
"What… just happened?"
"He didn't even draw his sword… and still—"
"Did you see how fast those masters moved? I didn't even see them appear."
"That was killing intent. Pure killing intent. I could barely stand."
"The hero and Thornevale's heir… enemies already?"
"If that fight started, Pete would be dead before he blinked."
"Dead in a second. No doubt."
"Provoking Ace Thornevale… that's just suicide."
Some voices carried excitement. Others spoke in hushed, wary tones—students now reevaluating just how dangerous Ace truly was.
After a lunch steeped in awkward silence, the students mounted their griffins once more. The wings beat against the wind, carrying them higher until the base shrank below into a patch of tents and banners.
By the evening, the orange wash of the setting sun spilled across the horizon—bringing Marlowe City into view.
At first, it was just the silhouette of colossal walls—stone fortifications nearly twenty meters high, thick enough to withstand siege weapons, the battlements dotted with guards in gleaming armor. The closer they came, the more the details emerged: flags snapping in the wind, watchtowers stationed every few hundred meters, and the sprawling web of streets and rooftops inside.
Beyond the walls, fields and small farmlands hugged the city's outskirts, dotted with citizens who stopped mid-task to gawk at the incoming formation of griffins. Children pointed excitedly, running after the sight, while merchants on the road paused their carts and shaded their eyes to watch the majestic beasts soar overhead.
Inside the city, the streets bustled even at this hour—stone-paved roads lined with stalls and taverns, people streaming through the market squares. As the griffins descended lower, the distinct hum of citizens seemed to rise to meet them—voices, wheels, hammer strikes, and the faint call of bells in the distance.
The landing point was the vast courtyard of the City Lord's mansion—a broad, lavish estate surrounded by ornate gates and tall hedges, its cobblestones freshly swept for their arrival. The griffins landed in practiced formation, claws striking the stone with heavy thuds as feathers ruffled in the breeze.
At the center of the courtyard stood Lord Halford Greaves—a fat, half-bald noble with a flushed face and an over-polished smile. Two or three richly dressed women lingered just behind him, but his focus was entirely on the arriving guests.
"Welcome, welcome to Marlowe City!" he boomed, voice syrupy with feigned warmth.
The moment the students dismounted, both the academy's guards, Marlowe's own soldiers and Thornevale guards moved in sync, securing the perimeter with the crisp precision of a drill. The City Lord stepped forward, addressing the group with outstretched arms.
"You all must be tired from journey... My subordinates will escort you to your guest mansion," he said, eyes sweeping over the crowd, "where you will find every comfort arranged for you. Please, enjoy your stay in our fine city."
The teachers exchanged brief nods, signaling for the students to follow the waiting attendants. In a slow stream, they filed out of the courtyard, chattering among themselves about the journey and the city.
"Ah," Lord Halford continued, his tone shifting into something smoother, "for distinguished guests such as Hero, both the princesses and lord Ace, I have prepared rooms within my own mansion—far more fitting for your… stature."
Ace, as the group began to move, gestured lucy to stop. She blinked but didn't argue.
The City Lord's attention, however, was on Pete. His eyes glimmered with opportunity. "The Hero of the Empire… what an honor! Your name reaches even our humble streets. To have you grace Marlowe City is a privilege beyond measure."
Pete's chest swelled slightly at the praise, and Halford noticed. That little spark of pride made him lean in even more.
"We will ensure you have every comfort, every convenience. You are, after all, the light of hope for the realm."
Pete, smiling faintly, replied in kind—though his gaze flicked briefly toward Ace. "Just make sure he doesn't stay with us."
The words dropped like a stone. Lord Halford's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, his face paling as if the temperature in the courtyard had dropped. His eyes darted between Pete and Ace, sensing the tension like the crackle before a lightning strike.
Still, his tongue was quick. The smile slid back into place, weaker but serviceable. "Ah… the hero's burdens must not be made heavier, of course. We wouldn't wish for unnecessary… complications."
He stepped close to Pete, his voice dropping to a cold whisper, the words cutting through the air with lethal calm. "Don't make this difficult for me, hero. The Thornevales are dangerous."
Pete glanced at Ace, irritated but still nodded.
Lord Halford clapped his hands once, sharp. "Then let us not delay—your rooms await!"
They began walking toward the mansion. Only then did Halford notice Lucy in Ace's shadow. For a brief moment, curiosity flickered in his eyes—but when he realized she was with Ace, he glanced away, saying nothing.
The grand doors of the City Lord's mansion swung open, revealing a lavishly decorated hall awash in golden light. Marble floors reflected the glow of chandeliers, and tapestries depicting hunts and battles draped the high walls.
Servants moved in silent efficiency, offering to take cloaks and leading the guests toward a sitting room that smelled faintly of polished wood and spiced tea.
From the moment they sat down, Lord Halford attached himself to Pete like a barnacle to a ship.
"Oh, Sir Hero," he said for the third time, his voice almost trembling with reverence as he poured tea for Pete personally, "your exploits are already sung in our taverns. Why, even the children of Marlowe know your name."
Pete smiled politely at first, but as the compliments piled higher, his posture straightened and his tone warmed. Each bit of praise seemed to sink in deeper, and Halford's eyes glittered with satisfaction.
Ace sat nearby, idly sipping his tea. It would be him buttered in Pete's place if he would have came alone, but seeing the city lord's focus on Pete, he was happy that he is not pestering him.
To Catherine, Emelia, and even Lucy, the performance was transparent. Halford's attention was so focused on Pete that it was almost comical; every story, every toast, every casual remark was framed to elevate him. They could practically see the man tallying imaginary debts in his head, hoping that currying favor now would pay dividends later when Pete's influence grew.
By the time dinner was served in a candlelit dining hall—silver platters groaning under the weight of roasted meats and seasoned vegetables—Halford was still at it.
"You must allow me to send provisions for your journey, Sir Hero," Halford insisted, leaning forward with an eager smile. "It would be an honor for my humble city to aid you in even the smallest way."
Pete gave a gracious nod, clearly flattered.
Across the table, Ace carved into his meal. Catherine sipped her wine slowly, saying little, while Emelia's gaze flicked between Pete and Halford, her expression cooling with every passing minute. Lucy, seated close to Ace, seemed content to watch silently, her lips twitching now and then at the sheer transparency of the city lord's tactics.