1217-01-09
Days have passed since we began our journey, and the ride to Venadoma has been a smooth one. We've stopped in smaller towns along the way to rest the horses, but today is the day. The day I take my first step toward a holy night.
As we approach the hill where Venadoma rests, I glance to the side and see Lake Anitus shimmering below. It is named in honor of King Anitus, who once ruled these lands, and above its tranquil waters lies Venedoma. As we climb higher up the hill, the trees surrounding us gradually give way to open grasslands. Finally, at the peak, Venadoma comes into full view.
Two statues stand guard at the entrance. One is unmistakably my sister—her long hair and piercing eyes are impossible to miss. The other is of King Milton. He stands tall with an imposing figure, his athletic build earning him the title of the Warrior King of Maranona and Protector of the Innocent. Below the statues, a cluster of carriages crowds the wide pathway, their passengers either departing or arriving.
Venadoma Academy could be called a city in its own right, given its size. At its center stands the main building, a towering structure that commands attention. Its brick walls and grey rooftops stand in stark contrast to the vibrant red hues of the surrounding buildings, catching my eye. As our carriage slows to a stop, the door creaks open, revealing the massive gates of the academy's centerpiece.
The main building resembles a castle, with multiple floors stretching high into the sky. This is where students attend classes and forge their futures.
The interior is nothing short of extraordinary. Polished marble floors gleam beneath my feet, reflecting the light from chandeliers above. Students are gathered in small groups, chatting and studying together. Spiral staircases wind up to higher levels, connecting the many floors. Each student wears a uniform of blue and gold—colors that remind me of my sister's armor.
Books and notepads are tucked under their arms as they move with purpose, embodying the disciplined energy of the academy. I can't help but feel a mix of awe and anticipation as I stand amidst it all. This is where it begins.
At the center of the bustling room stood a circular table where attendants were handing out flyers. Nearby, a group of students waited, most without uniforms or bags—new arrivals like me, sitting quietly in chairs. Two among them immediately caught my attention. One was a young woman with striking red hair and matching crimson eyes, and the other was a man with jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes. Both seemed to be about my age.
Summoning some courage, I walked up to one of the attendants. She looked tired, her sigh heavy as if she had answered the same question hundreds of times.
"Hi… I'm not sure where to go," I said, feeling awkward under her indifferent gaze.
"Name?" she asked flatly, not even looking up.
"Mary… Elephon," I replied quickly.
The air shifted. Heads turned, whispers spread like wildfire, and an odd weight filled the room.
"The prodigal daughter."
"The strongest."
Murmurs rippled through the students, their words filled with awe and curiosity. Each nickname referred to my sister, and hearing them made my stomach twist. The attendant, clearly startled, stared at me for a moment before handing me a packet of papers.
"Here," she said, her voice suddenly more composed.
I took the packet and joined the group of new arrivals. Inside was an ID card with my name, description, dorm number—N-161—rank: Undetermined, and age. Alongside it was a small bronze key labeled for my dorm room. There was also a pamphlet containing a map of Venedoma, which I skimmed over as I sat down.
The sound of marching boots broke my concentration. I glanced toward the entrance and saw a holy knight approaching. Their golden armor gleamed in the light, and the figure beneath had eerily familiar blonde hair—a striking resemblance to my sister. They were flanked by guards clad in silver, their expressions stoic.
"Follow me. I'll give you a tour," the holy knight said, addressing the group.
Grumbles arose among the students. Some complained about the wait, others whispered excitedly about seeing a holy knight in person, while a few simply smiled, grateful for the opportunity.
We began walking through the grand halls of Venadoma. The castle-like building seemed endless. We passed classrooms filled with students diligently learning, and open spaces where dragons rested lazily in the sun. My eyes lingered on the library as we walked past it.
As we moved, the holy knight began explaining. "The buildings are organized alphabetically from A to Z," they said. "Dorms A to N are on the right side of the academy, and O to Z are on the left."
Someone raised a hand. "What does the number after the letter mean?"
"The first number indicates your floor, which ranges from one to three. The second is your room number. Each floor has sixty-two rooms."
Curious, I asked, "Will we have roommates?"
"If your dorm is in A to N, you'll share your room with one other person," the knight explained. "If you're in O to Z, you'll have your room to yourself."
As we continued the tour, the holy knight pointed out key areas—dining halls, training grounds, and more. Though the atmosphere was lively with questions and whispers, I remained quiet, taking everything in.
Behind the main building is an expansive training ground. Groups of onlookers cheered or offered advice to their peers. My heart raced at the sight, the rhythmic sound of steel on steel drawing me in.
"Can I fight? Right now?" I blurted, turning to the holy knight with eager eyes.
He glanced at me. "You're excited."
Without another word, the knight strode toward the training grounds. I followed his gaze as he exchanged words with another figure—an imposing young man who quickly glanced in my direction. After a brief discussion, the holy knight turned to me and beckoned.
"Come here," he called, and I hurried to his side.
"This is Bran," the knight said, motioning to the man in front of me. "He's ranked ten."
I took in Bran's appearance. He had the typical look of a noble—brown hair neatly combed, sharp brown eyes, and a cool air of confidence. He wore the same blue-and-gold uniform as the other students, though his silver armor gleamed, hinting at his skill and station. A longsword rested at his side, the hilt polished and well-worn from use.
"Nice to meet you," I said, bowing politely as the holy knight stepped aside, retreating to a safe distance to observe.
Bran studied me for a moment, his expression serious. "I won't go easy on you," he said. "Sister of the perfect one."
"Three… two… one!" the holy knight shouted.
"Wait! I left my sword!" I cried, panic setting in.
Before I could explain, Bran charged, his blade slicing through the air with precision. I twisted just in time, narrowly dodging his strike. The holy knight didn't intervene, watching closely as if this were a test.
Bran didn't let up, pressing forward with relentless attacks. His sword whistled with every swing, each strike calculated and forceful. I stumbled back, struggling to avoid him, my breaths coming fast. His footwork was flawless, his movements fluid—he wasn't just fighting me, he was controlling the entire exchange.
I gritted my teeth as he feinted left, then slammed his shoulder into me, sending me sprawling onto the ground. He loomed over me, his sword coming down in a controlled arc. Instinct took over. I caught the blade with my bare hands. Pain flared, warm blood dripping down my fingers, but I held firm
I shoved him aside, forcing Bran to step back. My chest heaved as I scrambled to my feet.
"Take this!" a voice called.
I turned just in time to see a sword tossed toward me. Without thinking, I snatched it from the air, its hilt fitting perfectly in my grasp.
This time, I met him head-on. Our blades clashed, ringing loudly with each strike. I began to match his rhythm, countering his attacks and forcing him to adjust. The fight turned into a dance, and for a moment, I felt like I could hold my own.
But Bran was still stronger. With a sudden twist, he shattered the sword, his blade pointed at my chest.
"It was close," Bran said, a faint smile on his lips as he lowered his sword.
I bowed, wincing at the pain in my hands. "Hopefully, I can challenge you once more,"
I left the training area, my hands still tingling with pain but slowly recovering. The cool evening air brushed against my skin as I climbed the steps to leave. At the top of the path, a familiar figure stood waiting—Lucia.
"Lucia? How'd you get here so fast?" I asked, surprised.
She grinned. "Teleportation."
"What?"
"I can't believe you've already gotten into a fight."
"Yeah, and I can't believe I lost," I admitted.
Lucia teased. "You should've had a weapon to start."
"You're right," I replied
"Let me see your hands," she said, gently taking them.
A soft light radiated from her palms, and the wounds sealed. Her light magic was quick, efficient, and a small reminder of how skilled she was.
"Let me bring you to your dorm," Lucia continued, holding out her hand.
I passed her my ID, and together we left the training grounds, the energy of the crowd behind us fading as we walked toward the residential wing. Lucia carried my bag with ease, chatting about little things until we arrived at the dorm building.
The dorm was surprisingly spacious. To the left was a cozy kitchen with simple wooden cabinets and a small dining table. To the right, two doors led to separate bedrooms, each waiting for their new occupants. Beyond the bedrooms, the dorm opened into a comfortable living room with a plush couch and a low table, and large windows framed a view of the shimmering Lake Anitus.
" Oh, and stay on your toes around your roommate," she added with a teasing smile.
"Backhanded warning, much?" I replied, rolling my eyes.
Lucia laughed and waved as she left, leaving me alone to settle in. I dropped onto the couch, staring at the moonlit lake outside the window. My mind wandered back to the fight. What could I have done better? I thought, replaying Bran's strikes and my own missteps.
The day wore on, and night fell.
Creaaaak.
I turned toward the sound. Framed by the doorway was the red-haired woman I'd seen earlier, her fiery crimson hair unmistakable. She struggled with her bags, trying to push the last one through the narrow frame.
"Do you need help?" I asked, hurrying to hold the door open for her.
"No, thank you," she said, her voice soft yet confident.
"Actually… I should be thanking you."
"Thanking me? For what?" she asked, confused.
She smiled faintly as she dragged the last bag inside.
"You threw me the sword," I said, realizing dawning. "Sorry it shattered."
Her eyes widened. "How'd you know it was me?"
"I don't often forget things like that,".
She laughed softly. "I see."
"Which room would you like?" I asked.
"I'll take the one on the right," she said, glancing at the room.
"Are you sure? That one's smaller," I pointed out.
"I'm sure."
We moved our luggage into our respective rooms.
"What's your name?" I asked once we were settled.
"Agatha. Agatha Crimson," she replied, setting down her last bag.
"A fitting name," I said, smiling at her.
Agatha returned to her room. I did the same, the room is larger than anything I'd been accustomed to. After organizing my things, I opened my final bag. Inside were my books, carefully packed to keep them safe.
On top was The Lion, the Serpent, and the Spirit Within.