I searched and searched, finally finding my way to what I assumed was my office. It was a small, cozy space filled with trinkets—horse statues, old books, and other curious items scattered about. If I recall correctly, I arrived here just a month ago, but somehow it already felt like home. The old wooden desk was piled high with letters, and I began sorting through them, one by one.
The first was from the central military, a standard letter regarding the allocation of funds for soldiers' salaries. The next was about the arrival of supplies. Then, a fancier envelope caught my eye, sealed with a familiar wax. It was from my father.
Wait—what? From my father?
The words "From Muller Windborne to his beloved son, Newt Windborne" were written in elegant script on the front of the letter. It was unmistakable. These were my mother's words—her voice echoed through the lines. She always ensured I knew I was loved, and a part of me smiled at the thought of what surprise they might have in store.
Opening the envelope, I found an official command letter from the internal military organization. It detailed a transfer order, moving me from this post to the capital. Garret would take over as the commander here in my place. While it sounded straightforward, something deep inside me resisted the idea.
My dream came rushing back—the words of that woman, telling me I had to go to the capital. It all felt too connected to ignore. This is my path, and though the original Newt may have made different choices, I'm the one in charge now. I'll decide where I go. The capital holds answers, and it's where I need to be.
Resolved, I decided to prepare for the journey. Tomorrow, I would pack my belongings, and by evening, I'd leave for the capital. Right now, though, I needed rest. Garret could handle the remaining letters. I found my bedroom adjacent to the office, which was a pretty smart arrangement. Newt, it seems, had his life figured out.
The room wasn't overly lavish, but it was comfortable and reflected the tastes of a noble—souvenirs lined the shelves alongside old, well-read books. In the corner stood my armor, gleaming even in the dim light. Mithril. Not entirely, of course—only 20% of the armor was made from the precious metal, but that was more than enough for the son of a duke.
After changing into more comfortable clothes, I collapsed onto the bed, sleep overtaking me almost immediately.
The next morning came too soon, and I awoke with a sense of purpose. Packing my belongings didn't take long, but I needed to make sure Garret was ready. When I handed him the official order to take command in my absence, he looked as though he might faint.
"How can I possibly run this fortress? It's massive! I… I don't think the soldiers will even listen to me, Captain. Please, don't leave me here!" Garret's face was a mix of confusion and fear.
I smiled at him. "Garret, I know it's overwhelming, but I believe in you. The soldiers respect you—they'll listen. You're more capable than you think."
The day was spent bidding farewell to the villagers, who had grown fond of me. Some of them, in a comically exaggerated manner, even tried to stop me from leaving by constructing a net made of steel and attempting to capture me with it. Of course, I sliced through it effortlessly with my mana-infused blade, much to their dismay.
It was strange—mana had become easier to control since the last battle. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or perhaps something had changed in me after that fight. Regardless, the villagers were disappointed, but I had to go. Windborne, a part of me, wanted to stay. But Newt, the commander, had to leave.
We decided to depart under the cover of night. The weather would be cooler, and the journey would be less taxing. Given the current state of the country, most people had fled from the war, leaving the road ahead desolate for at least a day's travel.
I said my goodbyes once more, knowing this was the beginning of something far greater than myself. With my heart set on the capital, my journey had officially begun.