Chapter 344. Bring Me Back a Cursed Relic, Not a Marriage Proposal

William leaned back slightly, looking up at the stars streaked through the darkness. "For what it’s worth, I don’t think swinging a sword until your arms give out is entirely useless."

"It’s not a cure, but it’s not a weakness either." He looked back at her. "It just works better when it’s done alongside talking about the fear, rather than as a way to avoid it."

"You get to have both: the release of the blade and the clarity of the truth."

Kaela tilted her head, studying him curiously. "Is that some kind of old soldier’s wisdom? Did they teach you that in the barracks?"

"More or less," William admitted. "I spent years watching good people, brave people, try to outrun things that couldn’t be outrun."

"I watched them train until their hands bled and their bones ached, thinking that if they just became strong enough, the problems would disappear."

"The ones who survived, the ones who actually came out the other side whole, were the ones who eventually learned to speak about what was haunting them."

"The ones who just kept training harder and calling everything ’fine’ usually ended up breaking."

Kaela nodded slowly, absorbing the words as if they were something she could carry with her into the next day.

"I’ll try to remember that," she said quietly. "I can’t promise I’ll be perfect at it; I’m still probably going to try to swing my way out of half my problems, but I’ll try."

"That’s all anyone can ask," William said, reaching out to briefly squeeze her hand before withdrawing, leaving them both alone with their thoughts in the silver light of the moon.

They sat in that silver-washed silence for what felt like hours, though it may have only been minutes. The air between them had shifted; the terror hadn’t vanished, but it had transformed from a suffocating fog into something solid, something they could both grip and hold.

The weight of tomorrow was still there, heavy and inevitable, but it was no longer a burden carried by one pair of shoulders. It was shared.

Morning arrived with an unforgiving brightness, the sun bleeding across the courtyard in hues of amber and gold.

The air was crisp, carrying the bittersweet sting of departure. The group had gathered a makeshift phalanx of support to see William and Kaela off.

The atmosphere was a volatile cocktail of morning warmth and the underlying current of unspoken anxiety.

Ellie was the first to break the distance, throwing herself at Kaela in a fierce, bone-crushing embrace. She held on longer than necessary, her fingers digging into Kaela’s cloak as if trying to anchor her to the academy grounds.

An overstuffed leather satchel was already slung haphazardly over Ellie’s own shoulder.

"Send word the moment you can. I mean it, Kaela!"

"Even if it’s just a scrap of paper tossed from a carriage window, I need to know you’re breathing," Ellie commanded, her voice cracking with suppressed emotion. "I’ve packed extra bandages, tincture for headaches, and those dried fruit strips you pretend not to like but eat anyway when you’re stressed."

"Don’t you dare refuse them."

Kaela laughed, though it sounded breathless, and returned the embrace with equal fervor. She accepted the satchel with a grateful smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"I promise, Ellie. I’ll send word."

"And thank you... genuinely. I’ll try not to eat them all in one sitting."

"Just come back in one piece," Ellie whispered against her shoulder. "That’s the only thing that matters."

Clara approached next, her movements precise and measured, though the tightness around her lips betrayed her. She produced a neatly folded roll of parchment-thick, expensive vellum that felt far too weighty for simple correspondence.

"My inquiries regarding the Delmore kingdom," Clara stated, presenting it with formal gravity. "I realize you may not secure immediate answers to all of them, but I expect you to observe everything."

"I’ve categorized them by strategic priority. If time becomes... scarce, focus on the first three."

Kaela took the scroll, tucking it securely into her travel pack. "I’ll do my best, Clara."

"Just try not to have this thing memorized. I don’t need you conducting an oral interrogation the second I step back through these gates."

"I make no guarantees regarding my memory retention," Clara replied, her tone clipped and clinical, though her eyes lingered on Kaela with an uncharacteristic softness. "Be pragmatic, Kaela."

"I would prefer your return to be in a state conducive to discussing these matters in person."

"That’s almost sentimental, Clara. Careful, someone might think you care."

Clara offered a dry, razor-edged smile. "My affections are complicated and rarely convenient."

Kaela let out a surprised laugh, the sound echoing off the stone walls.

Olivia moved in next, waiting until the others had stepped back to offer a moment of relative privacy. Her voice was low, carrying the sharp edge of a warning.

"If the wind shifts or something feels wrong, even a fraction, you get word to me."

"I don’t care about protocol, and I don’t care about the difficulty of the message... I will find you."

"I mean that as more than a courtesy, Kaela."

Kaela met her gaze, recognizing the steel beneath the words. "I appreciate that, Olivia. Truly."

"You’ve become a surprisingly formidable ally for someone who started out here trying to dismantle every conspiracy in sight."

"Old habits die hard," Olivia said, a faint, genuine smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "But I’ve grown fond of this particular collection of headaches."

"Don’t make me regret it."

Finally, Albert approached William. The Headmaster’s face was a mask of solemn responsibility, his eyes reflecting the same gravity he had shown when reviewing the diplomatic letters the night before.

He stepped close, lowering his voice so only William could hear.

"You understand the magnitude of the trust placed in you, Instructor Wade," Albert said, his tone carrying the authority of his position but the sincerity of a mentor. "King Theron has not merely requested your presence; he has entrusted you with the safety of his daughter’s future."

"That is a burden few men would be capable of carrying."

"I understand, sir," William replied, standing straight, his jaw set. "I won’t fail her."

"I have no doubt you won’t." Albert paused, his usual formal reserve softening into something almost paternal. "You have proven yourself capable of enduring more than most men twice your age."

"But remember this: at that palace, surrounded by gilded walls and ancient lies, trust your instincts above all else."

"They have saved this academy more times than I care to admit."

William felt a surge of gratitude that nearly choked him. "Thank you, Headmaster Albert... for everything. For believing in me."

Albert offered a rare, genuine smile, one that reached his eyes. "You’ve earned that belief, William."

"Now, go. Safe travels to you both."

...

The walk to the academy gates felt longer than usual, the cobblestones underfoot seeming to echo with the unspoken anxieties of the group. Even the air seemed charged, heavy with the impending separation.

As they reached the threshold where the carriage waited, the crowd naturally parted, leaving two small pockets of intimacy amidst the farewells.

Catherine moved toward William, her movements fluid but carrying a rare trace of hesitation. She waited until he was momentarily separated from the others before stepping into his space, her fingers brushing against the leather of his coat before finding his hand.

"Be careful, William," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the distant sounds of the academy grounds, but carrying the full force of her fear.

She rose on her toes, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek, a gesture that felt like a desperate attempt to leave a piece of herself with him. "Whatever this turns out to be... whatever lies they weave or whatever games they play, trust your gut."

"You have this uncanny ability to sense when the air changes before the storm even breaks. Don’t ignore that feeling."

William closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the contact, feeling the steady heartbeat beneath her palm. "I’ll be careful, Catherine. I promise."

"I’ll keep my eyes open and my blade ready. And I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me."

"Don’t make promises you can’t keep," she teased weakly, though her eyes remained serious as she stepped back.

A few paces away, Lia had cornered Kaela. Lia’s usual demeanor, the playful smirk and the performative nonchalance, was present, but it was thinner now, like a veil stretched too tight over something far more vulnerable.

Her eyes darted toward the carriage and then back to Kaela, searching for something she couldn’t quite articulate.

"Alright, Princess, listen up," Lia said, her tone deliberately light, almost mocking, but William noticed how her fingers twitched at her sides. "When you get to that den of vipers they call a capital, bring me back something interesting."

"A cursed relic, a stolen crown, some exotic spice, anything. Just... preferably something that isn’t a formal marriage proposal from some Duke with more gold than sense."

Kaela managed a genuine, if weary, laugh, the sound cutting through the tension like a blade. "I’ll see what I can do, Lia."

"Though I make no promises about the relics."