Chapter 40: journey to the Imperial Academy

Chapter 40: Chapter 40: journey to the Imperial Academy

The palace grounds, usually filled with servants and knights moving from one duty to another, were unusually silent that morning. It was the kind of silence that pressed against the chest, heavy with things no one wanted to say out loud.

At the center of the northern courtyard stood a black imperial carriage trimmed with silver frost patterns. Four massive frost horses pawed at the ground, their breath rising like mist into the cold air.

Dozens of imperial knights formed two lines beside the carriage, their armor gleaming faintly beneath the pale winter sun.

Theon stood at the foot of the carriage steps, looking up at the palace one last time.

It felt strange. This place had been his home since the moment he opened his eyes in this world, and now he was leaving it because it was no longer safe for him to stay.

Lyra adjusted the white cloak around her shoulders, trying to look calm, though her eyes kept wandering toward the road beyond the gates, bright with an excitement she could not fully hide.

Lazeria stood slightly behind them, her hood pulled low. Even now, surrounded by so many humans, she looked uneasy, like a creature that had wandered somewhere it did not belong.

Ifrith sat on Theon’s shoulder in the form of a small black cat, lazily cleaning his paw as though the entire imperial escort meant nothing to him. Fen remained hidden inside his contracted space, waiting.

Emperor Ragnar approached, and the knights struck their spears against the ground in unison.

The sound echoed sharply across the courtyard.

The emperor stopped before Theon. For a moment he said nothing, only studied his son’s face. Then his crimson eyes met Theon’s own.

"From this moment onward," Ragnar said, his voice carrying across the courtyard, "you do not represent only yourself."

Theon straightened instinctively.

"You carry the blood of the Nivaris family." The emperor’s presence seemed to grow heavier, filling the space around them. "You carry the authority of the imperial throne. And you carry a future this empire has not yet seen."

The words settled deep in Theon’s chest, quiet and permanent, like something being carved into stone.

Ragnar’s gaze softened, just slightly. "Return stronger than when you left."

Theon lowered his head. "I will, Father."

Ragnar nodded once, then stepped back. There was no embrace, no dramatic farewell. Only a silence that said more than words ever could, the understanding between a ruler and his son.

As Theon climbed into the carriage, he felt eyes watching him. He looked up toward the palace balconies. Several royal figures stood there, some hidden behind curtains, some watching openly without shame.

Prince Styr stood with his hands behind his back, his face unreadable. Another prince turned away the moment their eyes met, as though even a glance cost him something.

Astrid stood alone on a higher balcony. Unlike the others, she did not hide her expression. There was guilt in her eyes, plain and unguarded, and something else beneath it. Worry.

Theon gave her a small nod. After a brief hesitation, she nodded back, her fingers curling tightly around the railing.

The carriage door closed. The imperial gates began to open with a slow, deep groan, and the carriage rolled forward.

The journey had begun.

The capital was already awake by then. As the carriage passed through the main streets, people stopped what they were doing to watch it pass. Merchants bowed low. Children pointed and tugged at their parents’ sleeves. Whispers spread from one side of the road to the other.

"That’s the Seventh Prince."

"The demon contractor."

"They say he defeated the First Princess herself."

"Is it true he carries a cursed sword?"

Theon sat quietly behind the frosted window, listening to fragments of his own legend drift past him like smoke. Just a few weeks ago, all he had wanted was freedom from the palace. Now his name traveled faster than he did, and he was not sure if that felt like victory or a warning.

Lyra pressed her face against the opposite window, eyes wide. "So many people."

Lazeria shrank deeper into her seat. "They’re all staring."

Ifrith let out a long, bored yawn. "Get used to it. Humans love staring at things they do not understand."

"That’s not helping," Theon muttered.

"It is helping me," Ifrith said, entirely unbothered.

By noon the carriage left the capital behind. The road stretched northward through rolling hills blanketed in snow. The imperial escort never explained how far the academy actually was. They simply kept moving, hour after hour, until Theon realized the journey was far longer than he had expected. This was not some school tucked quietly near the capital. The Imperial Academy stood somewhere far beyond the reach of ordinary politics, out where the empire’s rules grew thin.

As the sun began to sink, the landscape changed. The hills gave way to dense, frost covered forests. Ancient trees rose like pillars of white stone, their branches heavy with snow. The road narrowed, and the escort tightened its formation without needing to be told.

Theon noticed it immediately. The knights had gone quieter. More alert. Their hands rested closer to their weapons than before.

He glanced at Ifrith. The cat had stopped grooming himself, his dark-crimson eyes wide open and fixed on the trees.

"Something wrong?" Theon asked quietly.

Ifrith did not answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice had lost its usual lightness. "We’re being followed."

Lyra stiffened in her seat. Lazeria’s hood twitched slightly, as if she wanted to disappear inside it.

"By who?" Theon asked.

"Not sure yet," Ifrith admitted.

The carriage kept moving. The forest grew darker around them, and the sound of the wheels turned soft and muffled beneath the thick snow. Theon glanced out the window and, for a brief moment, thought he saw a shape moving between the trees, a shadow keeping perfect pace with the carriage. Then it was gone.

His hand drifted toward his storage ring without thinking. Nivareth remained sealed inside, but he could still feel its cold presence, quiet and waiting. Ragnar’s warning echoed in his mind.

Never draw that blade unless you are prepared to lose something precious.

Theon slowly lowered his hand. Not yet.

The carriage rolled deeper into the forest, and the light kept fading. Somewhere beyond the trees, unseen eyes continued to watch theon as he traveled further from home.

By the time full darkness settled over the forest, the atmosphere inside the carriage had changed completely.

Lyra was no longer admiring the scenery outside. Lazeria had stopped speaking entirely, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Even the imperial knights riding alongside kept glancing into the shadows between the trees, as if expecting them to move.

Theon looked at Ifrith. "You’re certain?"

The cat’s dark-crimson eyes stayed fixed on the darkness beyond the window. "Very certain."

"How many?"

"More than ten."

Theon’s grip tightened around the hilt at his side.

The carriage continued forward, the sound of hooves echoing through the frozen silence. Then, without warning, a sharp twang cut through the air.

A black arrow tore from the trees and buried itself in the shoulder of the lead knight.

"Ambush!"

The forest seemed to explode as arrows rained down from every direction, each one coated in dark mana that hissed the moment it touched the snow.

Fen burst free from his master Shadow space in a flash of blue lightning, and thunder erupted around the carriage, forming a crackling barrier that shattered several arrows midair.

Lyra thrust her hand forward. "Flame Shield!"

A wall of crimson fire rose above the carriage, melting the remaining arrows before they could strike.

The imperial knights drew their weapons. Steel rang out through the trees as shadows moved between them, masked figures, silent and terribly fast. Professional.

Theon’s eyes narrowed. These were not ordinary assassins.

One appeared beside a knight and cut him down in a single motion before vanishing back into the snow. Another leaped onto the carriage roof. Theon vanished with Shadow Step and reappeared behind him, a slash of ice coated darkness cutting across the assassin’s back. The man crashed into the snow and did not rise.

More figures kept emerging. Too many.

"Protect the prince!" the captain shouted.

Lazeria raised her trembling hands, her eyes glowing a deep purple. The nearest assassins staggered as their movements turned sluggish, unnatural.

"What did you do?" Lyra asked, breathless.

"I’m disrupting their coordination," Lazeria replied through gritted teeth. "But there are too many of them!"

Fen lunged into the forest, thunder exploding with every step, trees shaking and snow bursting into the air around him. Theon parried another assassin’s blade, then noticed something strange in the way they fought.

They were avoiding killing strikes.

A masked assassin whispered as he attacked. "Take him alive."

Theon froze for a fraction of a second. Alive?

The assassin used that instant of hesitation to kick him backward into the snow.

Ifrith’s eyes narrowed sharply. "So that’s the game."

The demon’s flames burst outward, forcing the assassin to retreat several steps. "They are not here to kill you, Master."

"They want to capture me," Theon said quietly, the realization sending a cold chill through his body.

Aldric.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the first wave withdrew. The masked figures melted back into the forest as quickly as they had appeared, leaving silence in their wake.

The surviving knights regrouped. Several were wounded. One had died. The captain cursed under his breath, wiping blood from his blade.

Theon looked around at the scattered arrows and torn snow. "That was too organized."

Ifrith nodded slowly. "They were testing our strength."

Fen returned from the trees, sparks still crackling faintly across his fur. "Three escaped."

"Only three?" Ifrith asked, almost impressed.

Fen snorted with quiet pride, and despite everything, Theon nearly smiled.

The captain rode closer. "Your Highness, we should keep moving. Staying here makes us an easier target."

Theon looked into the dark forest one last time. "They’re not finished."

"No," Ifrith agreed softly. "They’re waiting."

The journey continued. Hours passed. The forest grew steeper, the road climbing gradually into the northern mountains, and no one allowed themselves to relax. Theon could feel unseen eyes on them the entire time, a pressure that never lifted.

Then, near midnight, Ifrith suddenly stood upright on his shoulder.

"Down!"

Theon reacted instantly, pulling Lyra and Lazeria to the floor of the carriage just as chains of black mana crashed through the roof above them.

The carriage exploded apart. The horses screamed and bolted. Theon rolled across the snow and came up with his sword already drawn.

A second group had surrounded them. These assassins wore different masks, marked with silver runes that pulsed faintly in the dark. At their center stood a hooded mage holding a staff wrapped in black chains.

The moment the chains spread wide, Fen staggered. Ifrith hissed sharply in pain.

Theon’s eyes widened. The chains were draining demonic mana straight from them.

"Anti demon restraints," Ifrith growled through clenched teeth.

The mage raised his staff. "Suppress the summons. Capture the prince."

The assassins attacked again, and this time the pressure was completely different. Faster. Deadlier. Theon blocked a strike and was forced back three full steps before he could steady himself.

Lyra unleashed a wave of flame that lit up the forest in flickering orange light. Lazeria tried to seize control of another assassin’s mind, but a second attacker shattered her concentration with a burst of raw mana. Fen growled low, straining against the chains that drained him, and Ifrith’s flames flickered unnaturally, weaker with every passing second.

Theon understood the truth immediately. If he kept relying on Ifrith and Fen, he would only grow weaker and weaker until there was nothing left.

He forced himself to breathe, to think clearly despite the chaos around him.

The assassins were coordinated entirely around the mage. Every chain, every command, traced back to him.

Theon’s eyes sharpened. "There."

He vanished with Shadow Step. An assassin intercepted him mid movement, but Theon twisted his blade, freezing the man’s weapon solid, then kicked him aside without slowing down. Another came from behind, forcing him to summon ice spikes from the snow that made the assassin dodge wide.

Theon ignored everyone else. He aimed straight for the mage.

The mage’s eyes widened in alarm. "Stop him!"

It was already too late. Theon appeared directly in front of him, and his shadow coated sword pierced the ground beside the staff. Ice spread instantly across the black chains, and the entire formation shattered apart.

Fen roared, and thunder exploded outward. Ifrith’s flames surged back to full strength. The nearest assassins were thrown backward by the combined force of lightning and fire.

The hooded mage tried to retreat, but Theon grabbed his collar before he could escape.

"Who sent you?"

The mage laughed weakly, blood at the corner of his mouth. "You’re already too late."

Then his body convulsed violently. A black seal flared to life on his neck, and before Theon could react, it exploded. The mage died instantly in his grip.

Theon released him, breathing hard, his hands trembling slightly from more than just exhaustion.

Silence fell over the clearing.

The remaining assassins looked toward the north. Then one of them spoke, calm and final.

"Retreat."

No hesitation. No attempt at revenge. They vanished into the snowy forest as though they had never been there at all.

Theon frowned, watching the empty trees. "Why would they retreat now?"

Ifrith looked ahead, and the trees were beginning to thin. Beyond them, a pale blue light shimmered faintly in the distance.

"The barrier," he said quietly.

Theon stepped forward. Far ahead, stretching across the mountain pass, stood an enormous dome of ancient mana, glowing softly against the night sky.

The Imperial Academy barrier.

The assassins had stopped at the very edge of the forest. None of them dared to cross it. One masked figure turned and looked directly at Theon for a long moment, then disappeared into the darkness without a word.

The wind grew quieter. The pressure that had followed them for hours finally vanished, all at once, like a held breath being released.

For Once since leaving the capital, Theon felt truly safe.

The surviving knights gathered around him, exhausted but relieved.

"We’re close, Your Highness."

Theon looked toward the glowing barrier. Beyond it, faint outlines of towering structures could be seen through the falling snow, distant and quiet and waiting.

His heart began to beat faster, not from fear this time, but something closer to hope.

The journey was not over. But the academy was finally within reach.