In the days following Lord Darius's visit, Mori's training intensified. Driven by his father's stern words, he pushed himself harder, determined to master the swordplay that marked him as more than just a peasant's son. Each dawn found him in the training yard, sweat-soaked and aching, refining his strikes and footwork with relentless focus.
Liana watched from a distance, her silence heavier than any critique. She offered neither encouragement nor praise, her stoic demeanor a constant reminder of the stakes ahead.
The arrival of a rider from the capital broke the routine. The letter he delivered bore the Valkoria crest. Mori handed it to his mother, his chest tight with anticipation. Breaking the seal, Liana scanned the letter, her face softening with the faintest smile.
"Your father has arranged for us to move to the capital," she announced. "We leave in a week."
Mori's excitement warred with apprehension. Leaving Oakhaven for the capital was a dream come true, but the unknown loomed large—new expectations, unfamiliar people, and the shadow of his father's family.
The week flew by in preparation. Servants bustled, packing belongings under Liana's watchful eye. Mori, torn between eagerness and anxiety, spent his free time immersed in training, steeling himself for the challenges ahead.
The journey to Atheria was long, but the sight of the city silenced any complaints. The capital sprawled before them, a labyrinth of towering spires, bustling streets, and boundless energy. As the carriage wound through the noble district, Mori glimpsed the grandeur of the Valkoria palace, only for their journey to end at a smaller estate nearby.
"This will be our home," Liana said, her voice measured. Her disappointment was subtle but unmistakable. The estate, though opulent, was far removed from the central Valkoria residence. Still, Mori explored it with curiosity, marveling at its elegance.
A formal dinner invitation arrived days later. Lady Isolde, the mistress of the Valkoria household, wished to welcome Liana and Mori.
That evening, Mori stood beside his mother in the palace's grand hall, overwhelmed by its opulence. Glittering chandeliers bathed the room in light, and nobles moved with practiced grace, their laughter and conversation a quiet hum.
Lady Isolde greeted them with a warm, practiced smile.
"Liana, how wonderful to finally meet you," she said, her voice smooth. Turning to Mori, she added, "And you must be Mori. My, how you've grown."
She gestured to a group of children.
"These are my children—Caelen, Rhys, and little Eira."
Mori studied his half-siblings. The twins, poised and confident, exuded an air of noble superiority. Eira, younger and more reserved, peeked shyly from behind her brothers.
The dinner was a delicate affair. Lady Isolde's warmth never faltered, though the subtle boundaries she drew were clear. Mori admired his half-siblings' easy rapport with their parents, their laughter untouched by the insecurities that weighed on him.
The walk home was quiet until Mori broke the silence.
"She seems kind," he said softly. "Her children are lucky."
Liana's steps faltered. Her voice, sharp and unguarded, cut through the stillness.
"Do not compare me to her," she snapped, her eyes blazing. "You have no idea what I've sacrificed for you."
Mori, startled, tried to explain, but her anger left him silent. Liana turned away, her voice weary.
"Go to your room, Mori. I need time alone."
In his room, Mori wrestled with his thoughts. His mother's outburst confused him, but it was her unspoken pain that lingered. Unable to rest, he slipped out to the training yard, seeking solace in the familiar rhythm of sword practice.
Unbeknownst to Mori, Liana wrestled with her own demons. Her Heavenly Glance, a gift inherited through her bloodline, allowed her to perceive the mana that flowed through others. During dinner, she had examined Lady Isolde's children. Their mana signatures, vibrant and powerful, bore the unmistakable mark of noble heritage.
Mori's, by contrast, was faint—proof of his disadvantage in a world ruled by bloodlines and power. Liana knew she couldn't shield him forever, but she vowed to prepare him for the harsh realities ahead.
In the training yard, Mori's movements grew sharper, his strikes heavier. The weight of his frustration, doubts, and determination propelled him forward. When a maid passed by and urged him to rest, he merely shook his head, his voice firm.
"Not yet."
As the night deepened, his resolve solidified. He couldn't change the circumstances of his birth, but he could forge his own path. Sword raised, he steeled himself for the battles ahead. Dawn was coming, and with it, the chance to rewrite his destiny.