The months after Yoren's recovery changed many things.
Ruther no longer saw them as boys playing at swords. They had endured sickness, fear, and long nights. They had earned more than comfort. They had earned responsibility.
So when word arrived that Gʻade Academy was accepting new squires and scholars for the coming term, Ruther made a decision.
"You will both attend," he said at supper. "If you wish to stand in armies one day, you must first learn why they rise."
Gʻade Academy stood three days' ride from the manor, built upon a hill of pale stone overlooking a wide river bend. Its towers were not as tall as royal castles, but they were proud, lined with banners bearing the crest of Kuvec Kingdom.
When Yoren and Klaude passed through its gates, they felt smaller than they had in years.
Students filled the courtyards. Some practiced archery. Others debated loudly beneath shaded columns. Armor clinked. Books changed hands. It was a place where steel and knowledge shared equal space.
Klaude breathed in deeply. "This is where it begins."
"For what?" Yoren asked.
"For everything."
On their first morning, as they stood uncertain near the fountain at the center courtyard, a familiar voice broke through the noise.
"You walk as though you expect the stones to judge you."
Yoren turned.
There she stood.
The blonde girl from the village.
Her hair was tied back neatly now, though a few loose strands framed her face. Her eyes were bright, curious, and just slightly mischievous.
Klaude's mouth opened slightly. "You."
She raised an eyebrow. "I do have a name."
Yoren felt warmth rise to his face again. "We did not know it."
"Elesa," she said. "And I know yours."
Klaude blinked. "You do?"
"Yoren of House Will's protection. And Klaude Will, who argues with bakers over honey cakes."
Klaude looked offended. "It was a fair argument."
Elesa laughed, a light and easy sound. "You are louder than you think."
Yoren found himself smiling without effort.
They walked together through the courtyard. Elesa had arrived a week earlier and already knew the best study halls, the strictest instructors, and which meals to avoid in the dining hall.
"You will want to sit near the front in Master Halveth's class," she advised. "He throws chalk."
"He throws chalk?" Klaude repeated.
"When displeased."
Yoren chuckled quietly.
It did not take long for the three of them to settle into a rhythm. Klaude's boldness, Yoren's quiet thoughtfulness, and Elesa's sharp wit balanced one another. They studied together in the evenings, often laughing more than reading.
One afternoon, they sat in a large lecture hall carved from stone. The walls were lined with old shields and faded banners from battles long past.
Master Halveth stood before them, hands clasped behind his back.
"You are citizens of Kuvec Kingdom," he began, voice deep and steady. "But to understand your homeland, you must understand its scars."
Klaude leaned slightly toward Yoren and whispered, "We are in Kuvec Kingdom. Remember that when you become famous."
Yoren suppressed a smile. Elesa heard and shook her head lightly.
Master Halveth continued.
"Centuries ago, Kuvec and Dazalect were not enemies. In fact, they were allies closer than brothers."
He paced slowly.
"King Philemetrus of Dazalect was a wise and measured ruler. King Bernard Ryph of Kuvec was young but fiercely idealistic. When they first met, they did not meet as rivals. They met as men."
The room grew quiet.
"They hunted together. Dined together. Spoke long into the night of a future where their kingdoms would never raise swords against one another."
Yoren listened carefully.
"In the year 809 N.R., they signed the Treaty of Resistance. It bound both kingdoms to stand together in times of war. If one was attacked, the other would answer. No conflict between them would ever be permitted."
Elesa's voice was soft beside them. "That sounds beautiful."
"It was," Master Halveth said, as though he had heard her. "For a time."
He stopped walking.
"But peace is fragile."
The name that followed seemed to darken the air.
"Omero. An assassin of the Guild Vortex."
A few students shifted uneasily.
"He infiltrated Dazalect's capital. He captured the daughter of King Philemetrus. Then he delivered a message."
Yoren's chest tightened slightly.
"Betray Kuvec," the instructor continued, "or your daughter dies."
Silence fell heavy.
King Philemetrus faced an impossible choice. Break the treaty and stain his honor, or watch his child be murdered.
"He chose his daughter," Master Halveth said quietly.
Gasps moved through the hall.
"Dazalect forces struck Kuvec's border without warning. Villages burned. Armies mobilized. Thus began the KuMazalect War."
Klaude's hands slowly clenched.
"It lasted twelve years," the instructor went on. "The worst war in recorded history. Entire cities reduced to ash. Fields left barren. Generations lost."
Yoren imagined it. The hills they had walked through turned to smoke. The manor walls shattered. Families separated.
"Both kings eventually met on the battlefield," Master Halveth said. "Not as friends. As enemies."
The room felt colder.
"King Bernard Ryph rode at the head of Kuvec's army. King Philemetrus stood before Dazalect's last line of defense. They faced one another in open field."
Elesa whispered, "Did they speak?"
"They did."
The instructor's voice softened.
"Bernard demanded to know why the treaty had been broken. Philemetrus could not speak the truth without condemning his daughter. So they fought."
Steel met steel. Not just kings, but former brothers in spirit.
"In the end," Master Halveth said, "Bernard struck the final blow."
No one moved.
"Philemetrus fell. Dazalect surrendered soon after."
Yoren swallowed.
"They say," the instructor continued, "that Bernard knelt beside his dying friend. And in his grief, he spoke words that have echoed through history."
He closed his eyes briefly, as if remembering.
"Why does war exist? When kingdoms can just support each other."
The words lingered long after he finished.
Class ended in silence.
Outside, the sky was gray.
Klaude walked ahead at first, jaw tight. Elesa and Yoren followed.
"So that is what betrayal costs," Klaude said at last.
"Philemetrus did it to save his daughter," Elesa replied softly.
"And destroyed thousands of others," Klaude answered.
Yoren spoke carefully. "Perhaps he believed he could end it quickly."
"Or perhaps," Klaude said, "he believed he had no other choice."
They stopped near the academy wall overlooking the river.
"For twelve years," Klaude murmured. "That war lasted twelve years."
He looked at Yoren, eyes burning not with ambition now, but something deeper.
"If I become Commander General, I will remember that story. I will remember that even good men can destroy the world when forced into corners."
Elesa crossed her arms lightly. "Then do not let corners form."
Yoren smiled faintly at her words.
The wind moved through the courtyard, lifting Elesa's pale hair slightly.
They stood there together, three young souls shaped by a history they had not lived, yet carried in their blood.
For the first time, Klaude's dream felt heavier.
And Yoren, watching him, understood that admiration was not only for strength in battle.
It was for the courage to seek peace in a world that had forgotten how.