Edward didn't entirely understand what he was feeling currently.
For once, he was glad that he was not lost in the labyrinth of hallways anymore. But he still felt a little skittish, for some reason.
He glanced at the man walked side by side with him.
Calen D'Arvis. Knight captain of Myrvale, basically his personal guard. He looked 20, but also older at the same time, he was also ridiculously tall, towering over Edward like some kind of bizarre bean pole.
And for some unknown reason, this walking... weirdo... had decided to give him a tour of his own house.
How did it come to this...
He held back the urge to let out a sigh as he followed Calen's lead.
Thankfully, it didn't feel like he was lost anymore. Calen walked with purpose, like he knew where he was going.
They walked in silence for a while, only the sound of their footsteps ringing against the tiled floor keeping them company. The hallways were still unfamiliar to Edward, filled with golden sunlight pouring in the through the tall ornate windows that framed open to the gardens outside. Unlike his own room, which was cold and impersonal, devoid of any kind of familiarity, this side of the estate felt warm, even welcoming.
The turned a corner and entered a large chamber, filled with paintings of all kinds. Literally.
Anything Edward could think of, he was sure he could see at least one painting related to it. On the centre of the wall farthest to them hung a group of portraits.
Edward stared at them, hard, trying to discern the details. It looked like the portraits of his ancestors, then, his gaze landed on a particular tapestry, and it gazed back at him.
A chill ran down his spine, and Edward unknowingly jolted, tearing away his eyes from the portrait.
Calen gave him a confused look.
"You seem uneasy, young master."
"It startled me..."
"The portrait?"
"Yes..."
Calen looked like he was even more confused, he tilted his head. "If anything concerns you about this place, you can always tell me. There is no need to run into a wall again."
Edward held back the urge to give him a kick.
"I didn't run into a wall..."
"I was there."
Edward's eye twitched. "Alright, look. I'm sorry alright? I didn't mean to call you a wall."
Calen didn't answer, but just looked at him. Edward could've sworn that he saw a subtle smile stretching along his thin lips.
He let out sigh.
"What is this place?"
Calen turned his head, looking at the tapestries that populated the large room.
"This is the memory hall, history of the family is preserved here."
He pointed to the portraits.
"Those are the portraits of the previous lords of the family, we expect for you to be hung there one day too, young master."
Edward stared at the wall in front, careful not to look at the one portrait that had given him the creeps. Him? Hung up there one day? An oil painting of his face staring down at the future generations like some kind of heroic ancestor?
Horrifying...
"I don't think I'd look very good in a frame." Edward muttered.
Calen gave him a strange look, almost as if he was judging him, then cleared his throat.
"It is tradition."
"So is blood sacrifice in some cultures. Doesn't make it a good idea."
Edward didn't know why, but he always felt a little unsettled when he looked at Calen. It was not the kind of warmth that the duke gave him, but something else, something electric. Like something was building up static in his back.
Calen however, didn't reply to the sarcasm. Instead, he stepped forward, closer to the portraits. Folding his arms behind his back in a dignified manner.
"That man," He nodded towards a particular portrait, one that of a man with a luscious brown beard, his stern figure wielding a sword. "Was lord Adrien Myrvale. He united the northern trade routes and expanded this territory. The Myrvale crest was forged during his reign."
Edward gave him a slow nod, trying to pretend that this meant something to him.
Calen continued, oblivious to Edward's growing boredom, "The Myrvale name carries expectations. Honour. Strength. Responsibility. I understand you do not remember… but this legacy still belongs to you."
Edward looked at Calen, caught off guard by the gentler tone. It didn't feel like a lecture, no matter how he looked at it, it felt more like... reassurance.
"Right," Edward whispered, more to himself. "A Legacy."
He stared at the portraits for a long moment. These were men who once lived great lives, and died great deaths. Maybe even violent ones. They had probably lived hard lives, toiling for the greatness of their family, most likely never expecting that in a few hundred years, they'd have descended with a screen telling him to strike a cute pose.
Truthfully, it felt a little heavy, the weight of all these... expectations.
And for a brief moment, he found himself wondering,
What kind of person was Edward, the real Edward?
Calen walked past him, back to the way they came, "Come, there is more I should show you."
They walked for a while before they walked through another set of doors.
The tall doors opened to a wave of noise, and bright sunlight. Edward flinched, he could hear the sound of clashing steel, commands being shouted, and the dull thud of boots striking the earth.
They stepped outside into a massive courtyard bordered by high stone walls and weapon racks lined with polished blades. Dozens of knights, donned in training gear, were gathered in formation, moving under the stern gazes of instructors.
Edward recognised a few familiar faces from the knights who had captu- ...found him.
As soon as Calen stepped forward though, the air shifted. Conversations died, movements stopped, and every knight straightened with military discipline.
"Captain!"
The greeting rolled across the courtyard like thunder. Edward blinked. For someone who spent half their conversations acting mildly annoyed, Calen sure looked like he commanded a ridiculous amount of respect.
Calen gave a curt nod. "As you were."
The knights resumed their drills, but Edward could still feel it, the discrete glances thrown his way. Most of them surprised, most likely, at seeing him in a place like this.
Then something dawned on him.
Right... they all probably knew him, the real Edward.
And now they were staring at him, the imposter wearing Edward's clothes, thinking that he was the real one.
Calen walked along the edge of the training yard, and Edward kept close behind, eyes bouncing awkwardly between swinging swords and lunging footwork.
"This is the primary training division of the Myrvale knights," Calen explained. "Two hundred active combatants, with one hundred reserves. You are free to observe or make use of this space whenever you wish."
Edward made a face. "Make use of it how?"
Calen paused, glancing down at him. "For your training."
Edward laughed, visibly, out loud.
Calen didn't blink, but his gaze still held something strange.
"Why are you laughing?"
Edward pointed to himself. "Me? Training with a sword? You want me to die?"
Calen just stared at him, unamused. "Training is not optional, even nobles must know how to defend themselves. Your regime will be resumed once the commander arrives."
"Do I really have to?"
"Yes. You used to train here often, before, I heard."
Edward stilled.
He hadn't expected that.
"I… did?"
Calen nodded once. "You were not exceptional. But you worked hard."
That somehow made it worse. Edward suddenly felt something twist inside his chest—an emotion he wasn't prepared for.
Was it shame?
No, not for trying to bail on the training. But for erasing someone else's life.
For taking over a body that once belonged to a boy who actually tried.
…
He looked away.
Calen didn't press. "Come. There is somewhere quieter."