The sun had barely risen when Jake strode onto the academy's training grounds, the early morning chill biting against his skin. A small crowd of students had already gathered, whispering and pointing as he approached. In the center of the ring stood Darien, his confident smirk plastered across his face, flanked by a few of his cronies.
"Well, Elden," Darien called, twirling a practice blade, "I wasn't sure you'd show. Thought you might run back to your father."
Jake ignored the jibe, stepping into the circle. "I'm here. Let's get this over with."
The headmaster's assistant, an imposing knight named Sir Gareth, entered the circle to officiate. "This is a sparring duel. No lethal strikes. First to yield or be disarmed loses. Do you both agree?"
Jake nodded curtly, while Darien sneered. "Of course."
As the duel began, Darien lunged immediately, his strikes fast but predictable. Jake sidestepped with practiced ease, his focus sharp. The nobles watching cheered for Darien, their jeers at Jake growing louder with every move.
"You're better than I thought," Darien admitted, feinting left before slashing right.
Jake parried, his voice calm. "And you're exactly as bad as I thought."
The crowd gasped as Jake countered with a precise strike, sending Darien stumbling. With a swift move, Jake disarmed him, the practice blade flying across the ring.
The silence was deafening. Darien, red-faced, glared up at Jake. "This isn't over, commoner."
Jake didn't respond, turning to leave. But as he walked away, his gaze flickered toward Elara, who stood at the edge of the crowd, her expression unreadable.
---
Count Lotheren sat in his opulent study, a glass of wine in hand as he reviewed a map of Newhope's territories. A shadowy figure entered, bowing deeply.
"Is everything in place?" Lotheren asked, not bothering to look up.
"Yes, my lord," the man replied. "We've spread the rumors among the merchants. Word will reach the capital within days that Lord Elden is hoarding resources and refusing to share vital supplies with the crown."
Lotheren smiled coldly. "Good. Let the king believe that Elden is building his own power base. A little scandal should make his position untenable."
"And the monster attacks?" the figure asked.
"Convenient, aren't they?" Lotheren mused. "Ensure a few reports make it sound as though Elden's negligence has worsened the situation. If he falters, he will crumble. If he retaliates, he will look the tyrant."
The figure nodded and slipped away, leaving Lotheren alone with his thoughts.
---
At the Elden manor in Newhope, Arden Elden stood by the hearth, his weathered face illuminated by the flickering flames. His wife, Celia, entered the room, her expression a mix of concern and determination.
"You're restless again," she said softly, placing a hand on his arm.
"I can't afford not to be," Arden replied, his voice heavy. "The nobles are circling like vultures, waiting for me to slip."
Celia frowned. "Let them circle. You've faced worse."
"It's not just me," he said, turning to her. "It's us. You, Jake, this family. They won't stop until we're destroyed."
Celia sighed, leaning against him. "Do you remember when we had nothing but each other? When we were just trying to survive one day at a time? We didn't crumble then, and we won't crumble now."
Arden managed a faint smile, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You're stronger than I'll ever be."
She laughed lightly. "And don't you forget it. Now, stop brooding and eat something. Jake's letters are late, and that's worry enough."
Their younger daughter, Lilia, burst into the room, clutching a wooden sword. "Father, you promised to teach me how to parry!"
Arden's smile widened as he scooped her up. "Alright, little warrior. Show me what you've got."
For a moment, the tension lifted, replaced by the warmth of family.
---
Back at the academy, Jake sat under a sprawling oak tree, polishing his sword. The duel from earlier still lingered in his mind, but his thoughts were interrupted by Elara's arrival.
"Nice moves this morning," she said, sitting beside him uninvited.
Jake shrugged. "I didn't do it for their approval."
"I didn't say you did," Elara replied, her tone surprisingly gentle.
They sat in silence for a moment before Jake asked, "Why do you keep following me?"
Elara smiled faintly. "Because you're interesting. And because I think we understand each other more than you realize."
Jake glanced at her. "What's your story, then?"
Elara's smile faded, her gaze distant. "My mother was the queen. She ruled with strength and compassion. But when she died, everything changed. My father remarried, and the new queen made sure I was... pushed aside. Now, I'm just a reminder of what they lost."
Jake frowned. "Why stay here, then?"
"Because running doesn't fix anything," Elara said, echoing Greven's words. "And because I still have a fight in me. I won't let them erase me."
Jake studied her for a moment, his hostility softening slightly. "You're stubborn."
"So are you," Elara shot back, a playful glint in her eye.
For the first time, Jake allowed a small smile. "Maybe."
---
That evening, Arden Elden stood in Newhope's town square, addressing a gathering of merchants and townsfolk. His speech was meant to reassure them about the recent monster attacks and his plans to strengthen defenses.
As he spoke, a messenger burst through the crowd, clutching a parchment. "My lord, urgent news from the capital."
Arden took the letter, his expression darkening as he read. Whispers spread through the crowd as he handed the parchment to his steward.
"They're accusing me of hoarding resources," Arden muttered to himself.
Celia, who had joined him moments earlier, placed a hand on his arm. "What does this mean?"
"It means they're trying to paint me as a traitor," Arden said grimly. "And if the king believes it..."
"We'll fight it," Celia said firmly.
Arden nodded, though his mind raced. The nobles had made their move, and he would have to tread carefully to avoid their trap.
Arden Elden's hand clenched the parchment as he read the accusations again, his jaw tightening with each word. The square around him buzzed with unease. Merchants and townsfolk exchanged nervous glances, whispers rising like smoke.
"This is a deliberate attack," Arden said to his steward, Marlen, who had stepped close to read the missive.
"They want you to appear selfish and disconnected from the realm," Marlen muttered. "If this gains traction, even the king might begin to doubt your loyalty."
Celia's hand rested on her husband's arm. "Arden, speak to them now. Silence will only feed the rumors."
Arden nodded, stepping forward to address the crowd. He raised a hand, and the murmurs fell to an uneasy hush.
"My people," he began, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him, "you've all heard the rumors. They claim I hoard the resources of Newhope, that I hold back what could aid the crown. But you know the truth. Everything this land produces has gone to protect it and its people."
A voice in the crowd shouted, "What of the taxes? Why has nothing been sent to the capital?"
Arden's gaze zeroed in on the speaker, a burly merchant. "Because the monsters that plague our borders have left us little to spare. Every coin collected has been spent fortifying defenses, arming our soldiers, and keeping your families safe. Would you prefer I send gold while you fend off beasts with pitchforks?"
The merchant stepped back, cowed, and the crowd murmured in agreement.
Arden continued, his voice rising. "Let me make this clear: Newhope is not a prize to be exploited. It is our home. My family has bled for it, and we will not allow politics to weaken our defenses. Those who accuse us of hoarding are the same who profited while monsters ravaged these lands."
The crowd erupted in applause, their loyalty to Arden reaffirmed.
---
Later that evening, in the great hall of the Elden manor, Arden and his trusted advisors gathered to strategize. Maps and reports littered the long table as Marlen outlined the stakes.
"The rumors will still spread," Marlen said. "Even with the people on your side, the nobles in the capital will seize on any opportunity to discredit you."
"I've sent word to the king directly," Arden said, his voice firm. "A detailed account of our expenses, along with proof of where every resource has been used. Let them try to twist the truth, but they will find nothing."
"And the merchants?" Celia asked.
Arden smiled faintly. "I've offered them fair compensation for any delays in trade. They'll remember who protected their livelihoods when the monsters came."
As the meeting continued, a messenger arrived, breathless and pale. "My lord, a group of noble emissaries from the capital has entered Newhope. They demand an audience with you tomorrow morning."
Marlen frowned. "This is earlier than expected. Lotheren must have escalated his plan."
"Good," Arden said, his tone resolute. "Let them come. We'll see how they handle a lord who's prepared."
---
In the capital, Count Lotheren sat in his study, listening as his spy reported the events in Newhope.
"The people rallied behind him," the spy said, his voice laced with frustration. "And he's already sent detailed accounts to the king. There's no sign of guilt—his defenses are ironclad."
Lotheren scowled, swirling his wine glass. "So Elden is not just a soldier. He's clever enough to navigate politics, too. This complicates things."
"He's gained respect among the merchants as well," the spy added. "They're beginning to see him as a protector rather than an upstart."
The count's scowl deepened. "Then we'll have to change tactics. Inform the queen of this development. She must understand that Elden isn't just a nuisance—he's a threat. If we're to dismantle him, we'll need her full support."
The spy nodded and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Lotheren to brood over his next move.
---
In the quiet courtyard of the academy, Jake sat on a low stone wall, the moonlight casting pale shadows across his face. Elara approached him, her steps light but purposeful.
"You've been quiet all day," she said, sitting beside him.
Jake glanced at her but said nothing, his gaze fixed on the stars.
"You're still thinking about the duel, aren't you?" Elara pressed.
"No," Jake replied, his voice low. "I'm thinking about how ridiculous this place is. Nobles bickering over titles while people like my father fight to keep everyone alive."
Elara tilted her head, studying him. "You're not wrong. But not all of us are like that."
Jake looked at her, his expression skeptical. "Aren't you? You're here, in their world, playing their games."
"I'm here because I don't have a choice," Elara said, her tone sharper than usual. "Do you think I want this? To be ignored, cast aside, treated like an afterthought because my mother is gone and my father remarried a woman who hates me?"
Jake's eyes softened slightly, but he didn't respond.
Elara sighed, her voice quieter. "I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm just saying that maybe we're not so different. You don't want to be here, and neither do I. But we're both stuck, so maybe... we don't have to fight alone."
Jake hesitated, then nodded once. "Maybe."
---
The next morning, Arden stood in the grand hall of his manor as the noble emissaries arrived. They were led by a sharp-eyed woman with an air of authority and disdain.
"Lord Elden," she said coolly, handing him a sealed letter. "By order of the queen, your records and accounts will be audited. Any discrepancies will be reported to the crown."
Arden remained calm, though his mind raced. "You're welcome to review anything you wish. My steward will assist you."
As the emissaries moved to begin their inspection, Celia approached Arden, her face pale. "This is a trap, isn't it?"
"It's a test," Arden replied, his voice steady. "And we will pass it."