Albrecht's eyes scanned the open square.

  And there he was.

  Leaning against a wooden post near the center of the square stood Thereon, arms crossed and posture as relaxed as ever. He looked like he'd been waiting for hours, though it hadn't been more than 10 minutes.

  "You took your sweet time, princess," Thereon said the moment Albrecht approached.

  "Did you steal the clothes somewhere?" he added with a smirk, eyes briefly flicking to the new outfit.

  Albrecht rolled his eyes.

  "No, I… well, I technically didn't pay for it, but… it doesn't matter," Albrecht said, waving it off.

  Thereon raised an eyebrow, amused.

  "I see. So someone mistook you for a lost beggar and decided to do a good deed?"

  'Ugh… aren't old people supposed to be responsible and dignified?'

  "Just let's get going," Albrecht finally said.

  They walked side by side through the quiet streets of Vaelmont, the evening settling into a gentle chill.

  The buildings cast long shadows across the stone roads, and the flickering lanterns lit their path in uneven patches of gold.

  Vaelmont wasn't a large city—more of a fortified town, really. A modest trade hub, built around the canal that cut cleanly through its center.

  Small wooden bridges arched over the water, connecting the two halves like stitching over a wound.

  The inn where Albrecht had first awakened stood near the western side of the canal. Now, he and Thereon crossed eastward, their footsteps echoing softly on the cobblestones as they passed shuttered shops and empty food stalls.

  The last wisps of smoke curled from chimneys, and lanterns flickered quietly in their cradles, casting long, swaying shadows.

  They followed the gentle curve of the canal until they reached the stone bridge that arched gracefully across it.

  On the other side, the buildings grew slightly sparser, more utilitarian—less about charm, more about function. Here, the main road widened and began its slow incline toward the city's fortified outer wall.

  Albrecht's steps slowed for a moment.

  This was where Selene had taken him before—the same route. The memory of the canal, the alley, the cold water rushing around him… it all crept back like a fog. For a heartbeat, he tensed.

  But then he glanced ahead to Thereon, walking calmly, hands in his pockets as if nothing in the world could surprise him.

  That was enough.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Albrecht took a breath and kept walking. He was confident in Thereon.

  Only now did he notice that the older man was carrying two swords—his usual gold-etched blade at his hip and a broader, heavier one strapped diagonally across his back. Likely the weapon taken from the crushed attacker earlier.

  Ahead, the stone wall surrounding Vaelmont loomed, sturdy rather than tall, built for practicality rather than grandeur. Watchtowers rose at regular intervals, their torchlight flickering across the ramparts.

  The eastern gate stood open, flanked by two guards in polished steel armor, their spears planted firmly at their sides.

  According to the map Albrecht had glanced at earlier, this gate led into a dense stretch of forest. Beyond that, the road would eventually lead them to Azurheim, a city famous for its prestigious swordsmanship academy.

  Vaelmont itself was nestled in the central-western region of the Central Continent, under the banner of the Valorian Kingdom. While small, the town was well-connected, with several neighboring cities and villages forming a web of trade and travel.

  'Hopefully, he doesn't just dump me at the School of Steel,' Albrecht thought as they approached the gate.

  But he didn't truly believe that. Thereon might joke and laugh often, but he carried himself like a man with purpose.

  He had helped Albrecht survive his first real fight—not by shielding him, but by subtly leveling the field, giving him the chance to adapt and grow.

  Whether helping someone kill for the first time was truly the mark of a good mentor… well, that was up for debate.

  Still, in a world like this, Albrecht figured it made Thereon at least a decent one.

  One of the guards stepped forward as they approached, holding out a hand.

  "Names and identification."

  Thereon reached into his cloak and pulled out a small silver plate etched with delicate runes. The metal glinted faintly in the torchlight.

  Albrecht fumbled in his pouch, pulling out the item he'd retrieved earlier from his room, his identity token. He took a short look at the medallion from Isla, which he had kept in the same pouch.

  Compared to Thereon's, Albrecht's identity token looked almost laughably plain—just a small piece of wood with his full name, Albrecht Moss, burned into one side and an official seal pressed onto the back.

  The guard ignored Albrecht's token, instead narrowing his eyes at Thereons.

  "So, you're a merchant?" he asked, suspicion creeping into his tone.

  "Don't see any goods on you. Just the swords."

  Thereon smiled faintly as if he'd heard this line too many times before. His voice was mostly relaxed.

  "Well, an old man like me has to defend himself somehow, especially with all the bandits and evil in the world, don't you think?"

  "Hmhh… Where are you headed, and why leave at this hour?" the guard asked, his posture stiff, clearly uneasy.

  "I just received a letter from my niece," Thereon said, suddenly adopting a frail tone and slower voice, more befitting of an old man.

  "She's fallen ill. We're headed to Azurheim to see her… Time is of the essence. The poor girl might not have long left."

  "In that case, please show me the letter," the guard said firmly, not budging. His eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced by Thereon's act.

  By now, his partner had stepped closer, hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword—not aggressive, but ready. His gaze flicked between Thereon and Albrecht, measuring.

  The first guard crossed his arms. "Just protocol. I'm sure you understand."

  Thereon sighed, rubbing his temple like a tired uncle dealing with fussy nephews.

  "Ah… this old body," he muttered under his breath, swaying slightly.

  He reached slowly toward his side as if fumbling for a pouch where the letter would have been. But halfway through the motion, he stumbled forward, body slumping like it had given out beneath him.

  The guard on his right instinctively reached out to steady him.

  Big mistake.

  Thereon's elbow shot upward in a sharp, explosive movement—burying itself into the guard's gut with enough force to knock the wind clean out of him. The man folded in half, collapsing with a choked gasp.

  The second guard moved in fast, attempting to draw his sword

  But he was too late.