Becoming a Silver Knight took months of effort, training, bloody fights, and a great deal of solitude. I found myself on occasion alone in the Grade D Plane’s forests, roaming the wilds with Beatrice resting on my shoulder, feeling the cold wind on my face, my bootless feet crunching across the spring-felled branches. I found joy and peace during my outings, which saved me from the sheer absurdity that was life in the royal palace.

  If there had ever been true progress in my relationship with Mother, then that was discarded and replaced by the growing acceleration of my fast-approaching enrollment to the Creator’s Academy. She was busy showing me the skills of a true Knight, which meant fewer words and more practice, leading me to finally take that crucial step into Silver Knighthood at the young age of eleven.

  This was, if Belfray was to be believed, not a big accomplishment by itself. Young knights were aplenty, especially in famed Houses, born and raised by people who knew the importance of an early education. Nonetheless, being trained by a handful of Celestials was no small thing. I was reminded of my private lessons with Radek, who kept trying to drill into my brain the codes of managing my emotions.

  I was mediocre at best at keeping my moods in check.

  That wasn’t the case with my Rune studies, though. On the normal front, I could now inscribe Grade 3 Runes with moderate ease, and had taken quite a few jabs at Grade 4 ones on occasion. Those ones would become handy when I became a Golden Knight, but still, it paid to get a hang of them beforehand.

  The Practical Runes, on the other hand, were a different world altogether. I had my Quick Step, General Muffle, and Soft Anchor. Those three played a big role during my forest visits, and I had the mind to keep them under my grip for the future. I considered adding more Practical Runes to my arsenal, but decided to postpone it until I became a Silver Knight.

  Why, you ask?

  It was because being a Silver Knight changed things. While Bronze Knighthood was widely considered a tutorial-like step in the Path of Glory, Silver Knighthood was where one began to enjoy the true treats of the profession. My internal energy was finally freed of the limits of my own skin. I could now use my Internal Core to do a few tricks.

  So there I was, sitting in the dark of my Runic Chamber, eyeing the stack of papers in front of me. With one pull, my Internal Core pushed a strand of internal energy through my arm, out from my pores, reaching with speed toward the ink pen resting gently atop the desk. Strands of silk-like silver grasped the pen and pulled it from the ink container, lending it with grace to my hands in one fluid motion. I smiled contentedly when I felt the pen’s soft texture. I liked the color of silver more than that boring bronze.

  Today, the task at hand was simple. I had to replace the Runes in my body. I started with the Grade 2 Strengthening, Endurance, and Internal Energy Runes. Now that I was a Silver Knight, my body could hold six Grade 2 Runes with ease, seven if I pushed my limits. That meant I could at best go with four Grade 3 Runes right now, and add another one when I reached the middle stage of Silver Knighthood.

  I didn’t change the original trio and decided a Regeneration Rune would be the best for my fourth one. More and more, I’d begun to favor a direct approach against the beasts in the forest, and even though I hated to admit it, I kind of liked it. Getting hit by a spiked boar hurt a lot, but the fact that I could shrug it off and let the Undying deal with the damage while I made a mess of that boar’s face was nothing short of incredible. A Grade 3 Regeneration Rune would make me a better brute in every way I could think of.

  For my new runes, I used quality magical leather and poured my soul energy into the characters for the rest of the night. Against the best of my efforts, though, I couldn’t stop thinking about the next week.

  It felt unreal, but Mother had been proven right. In just a few months, the rest of the world decided to submit itself to the rule of Palark. They just couldn’t handle the sheer strength our army demonstrated in a few skirmishes. Very clever of them, I had to say. I was glad this campaign ended with limited losses.

  …….

  Belfray’s POV

  “How could you have your robe and your papers delivered already?” I asked, annoyed that it had been more than a few weeks since I kindly reminded the institute about my still-pending application. “Do these people have no manners? Why would they care for a Heart Mage when there’s a true monument of experience and wisdom knocking on their door?”

  “Well, what did you expect? We’re a dwindling bunch of rare talent, pure dedication, and intricate mastery over a field that involves the fickleness of a human heart,” Radek answered, and clicked his tongue as he gave me a side glance. “You, on the other hand, can make a sword sing. Good for you, I suppose, but that’s hardly the most sought-after talent across the Planar System.”

  “You think I’m a mere swordsman out searching for a purpose? I once governed the Empire’s integral resources myself, and taught many a genius the intricacies of the Planar System. I—”

  “They don’t know that, though, do they, old friend?” Radek sighed loudly. “They think you’re just a Sword Celestial. That in itself should be enough for you to get in, but don’t expect special treatment. Or would you rather give them the whole story and let them know the entirety of our secret plan?”

  “I…” I breathed in and steeled my inner will. It wasn’t like me to get heated about these simple things, but there was something deeply unsettling about being ignored by a bunch of academics. What did they know about the Path of Glory and its endless reaches? Nothing, apparently, if they failed to see the sheer strength I’d carved into my application letter.

  “Now, if my Lady had applied, she would’ve been taken in by the most grand celebrations. There would be a great host of people waiting for her by the gates, a red carpet woven from Padoran fur, a musical quartet that would put many a Kingdom’s royal band to shame, and so on. You, however, are severely lacking on the charisma front. That gray beard of yours does not grow on people.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “I just trimmed it!” I protested, feeling the sharp angles of my chin. “You said it made me look younger the other day.”

  “And I wasn’t lying,” Radek said and placed a hand on my shoulder. I nearly crushed it with a blast of my internal energy. “Being younger doesn’t mean there’s been a significant improvement in your general disposition, though. You’re still a brute. A younger one, but a brute nonetheless.”

  “Maybe I should bring my books with me…” I muttered, ignoring the Mage and instead focusing on the thing that I could actually control. I could say, with certainty, that I knew most of the Planar System like the back of my hand, and that was something not many people would dare to proclaim even in that place.

  But then, making a case like that would be a clue by itself. Given enough time, those people might follow the crumbs and figure out the big picture. That would leave the Young Master vulnerable, if not endangered. We couldn’t have that. We were supposed to stay silent and hidden.

  “I have to wait,” I said, having been left with no other option. I had to wait until my application was reviewed and accepted. “Wait… I will get accepted, right? They wouldn’t dare to reject me of all people?”

  I searched Radek’s eyes for confirmation, but saw in those gleaming beads a mischievous glint that made my neck hurt. It was gone when I glared him down with strength, and was replaced by his signature smirk that told me there was nothing to worry about.

  “You’ll get in. I’m sure of it,” he said, waving a hand. “They do this every so often. It’s a power play. They make you wait, get frustrated, and finally begin questioning yourself whether you have the qualifications for them or not. And when you get accepted, you get all giddy and feel good about it as though it were the highest of accomplishments. Have to give them their due now, haven’t we? Not everyone could make a Celestial sweat.”

  I supposed he was right. The Creator’s Academy was the birthplace of monsters. It was governed with a mixture of hierarchy and meritocracy many a nation had long since adapted into their integral mechanisms. The fact that people sent their prodigies there knowing they could lose the lifeblood of their families at any time alone spoke of their credibility.

  Which was why we had come up with a plan of our own to keep an eye on the Young Master. Now, this wouldn’t be an ideal scenario in which we would have complete control over the Young Master’s academy life. Worse yet, it could even be that we might find ourselves helpless in a case where the Young Master suffered certain… complications in the academy. Still, though, we had to be there, in person.

  Just in case.

  He wouldn’t know of us, of course. That would be against the very nature of his education. Our disguise would be perfect, just as I promised to the Grand Marshall. We would only interfere if certain powers tried to be clever and use their own plants to make a move on the Young Master.

  This was, to put it simply, a favored tradition among powerful nations, the ones that could spare influential figures to protect their own. Or rather, to be updated constantly on their young scions’ progress. Since they would know better than to interfere personally in the conflicts between students, as that could result in a highly strict response from the Academy personnel, they would only remain as spectators and keep to themselves.

  We, on the other hand, decided to take a more direct approach.

  “The Cipher as a Professor of the Heartforce, eh? Doesn’t sound that bad,” I heard Radek mutter giddily to himself. “Who would’ve thought?”

  “Surely you’re not thinking of taking real students?” I asked with suspicion.

  “Why not?” he said. “I might as well take a jab at it while I’m there. It’s been fun teaching our own monster lately. I forgot how rewarding it actually was, seeing a pupil show real progress. It’d also help to blend in. Why? Are you planning to stay away from those little creatures? As a Sword Instructor, at that?”

  “The Creator’s Academy is nothing like your Magical School, nor does it have any similarities with the codes I grew up with in the Knighthood. It favors personal relations more than anything. You’re not expected to teach a class of children. You’re expected to select a few promising ones and make them your own, personal pupils,” I said.

  “So?” Radek raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “That— You can’t afford to get distracted!” I countered sharply. “The sole purpose of our presence there will be because of Young—”

  “Stop it,” Radek said, holding a hand up at me. “You’re doing it again. Acting as if the Young Master is your whole world. It’s not healthy, my old friend, this obsession of yours. I myself like the brat quite a bit, and I have invested a good part of my life in our quest, but that doesn’t mean I’ll spend every second thinking about him. It’s just like how Payem put it. Have a little faith, will you?”

  “I have faith!” I said, glaring him down. “But apparently, you don’t. You’re not taking this seriously. A small slip can mess this up for everyone.”

  Radek’s eyes widened at me. “You?” he muttered, as though I had just spouted the most nonsensical string of words he’d ever heard. “Reminding a Celestial Heart Mage of the importance of not being distracted? Do you take me for a green hand, Knight? Do I have to teach you how that little brain of yours works again?”

  I clenched a hand, felt the knuckles on my fingers crack with the motion, sensed the warm internal energy rolling in my inner world. A pulse of it sent a dozen circulations across the nexus of my being, discarding the insidious strands of outside influence with cold anger. I was back again with my mind in place and my heart at complete calm. It was with that same muted anger that I regarded Radek, who paused mid-sneer and glanced over at me.

  “Impressive,” he said, much like a stout teacher complimenting a hopeless cause. “So you do remember how to keep your calm in times when you know you can’t win. That’s good progress. I’ll give you a Silver Star after the lesson.”

  “The star was for the Mages, you arrogant fool,” I said, my hand still clasped into a tight fist. “We’d get daggers back in the Knighthood, real weapons that we could use, unlike your magical tools.”

  “That reminds me…” Radek said, one hand under his chin as he peered out into the distance. “I have to prepare a set of stars and badges for my pupils. The kids need motivation these days, I’ve heard. I always liked being rewarded by my cruel Master. It made me feel good about myself.”

  I hated to admit it, but I kept the daggers Herald Olam gave me during my early Knighthood back in school. A total of two thousand, three hundred and sixty-five of them, the highest number ever recorded by a Knight, and that was me, who’d spent his first years trying to find his groove. To an eight-year-old kid, it was those daggers that kept me going for the longest time. I loved them with passion.

  Which reminded me of the Young Master’s birthday. He was eleven years old now, and already looked like a sixteen-year-old kid. He’d grown a lot during this last year. Time surely flew past us without our knowing.

  He was due for another present from my shelf. I was thinking of giving him the set of armor I’d had forged before he was born, but after I saw the Grand Marshall’s preparation, I’d changed my mind.

  Perhaps I should give him a pair of daggers. The first ones I got from the Herald back when I was still a lost child. Those could help keep him safe, and maybe remind him of his most loyal uncle when things got rough and he felt alone in the night.

  …….