Covenant (6)

The sitting room had leather armchairs arranged around a fireplace. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with volumes on everything from arcane, commerce, engineering, to philosophy.

Arline settled into one chair while Celica immediately gravitated toward the books. Valan accepted his own cup of tea and found himself observing the family's comfort with each other.

He'd wish he had a family like this, he thought. When he was reborn into this world. These people belonged to each other in a way he'd never experienced.

"You're quiet, Ferndall," Mr. Telderan noticed, settling into his own chair. "Still processing the journey?"

"Just… a bit tired, sir. And grateful for your hospitality." Valan took a sip of his cup.

"Think nothing of it. Though I must say, Glendione can be overwhelming for newcomers. The city has... complexities which will take time to get used to."

"…Complexities?" Valan asked, genuinely curious.

"Just the norms and customs. The industrial district has its own rules to follow. The merchant quarter operates differently than the residential areas. And the academy..." Mr. Telderan paused, glancing at the girls. "Well, let's just say understanding the social dynamics there is as important as your grades."

Celica looked up from her book. "Uncle Garon, you're not trying to scare him, are you?"

"Merely offering advice," Mr. Telderan smiled. "Weldphal is one of the best in the world. The academy attracts students from across all countries. You will find nobles, high-class people, commoners with exceptional talent—they all mix together, and that creates... interesting situations."

"Meaning?" Valan pressed, even though he already this much with his own research.

"Pick your friends carefully," Arline said quietly. "Some families send their children there to network rather than learn. Others use it as a way to curry favors."

"Some of the nobles and rich kids are absolute snobs who'll make your life miserable if they think you're beneath them." Celica added with a snort.

"While it's true the academy enforces rules to prevent things like this happen, but of course most rules only works with pair of eyes." Mr. Telderan sip his cup. "Do you catch what I said?"

"Yes." Valan nodded, setting down his teacup.

He meant that everything can happen behind the back, when nobody watched.

"Don't give them reasons to target you," Mr. Telderan advised. "Keep your head down, focus on your studies, and involve yourself into troubles."

Valan nodded, though he wondered if this would conflict with his mission to find the Centurion. After all, the Centurion might came from one of them.

"Speaking of which," Mr. Telderan continued, "you mentioned you're from Isvania. That's quite far from here. What brought you all this way to Weldphal?"

Valan had prepared for this question for a long time. "Father said if I was going to study magic, I should learn from the best school—doesn't matter if it's far away. He thought it was worth the journey."

"I imagine it wasn't an easy decision, sending his son so far from home—and your mother? She agreed with this plan?"

"She just follows my father's decision."

"Well," Mr. Telderan cleared his throat, "you have a family here now, for as long as you need one."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't worry." Mr. Telderan stood and moved toward one of the bookshelves. "Now, since you'll be staying with us for a while, let me show you something that might help with your preparations."

After another twenty minutes of quiet conversation about the academy, Mr. Telderan set down his empty glass and stretched. "Well then, we should all get some rest. Tomorrow I'll have the driver show you around the city properly."

He led them up a carpeted staircase to the second floor. The hallway stretched in both directions, lined with doors and lit by lamps mounted on the walls.

"Arline, your usual room is ready," he said, stopping at the first door on the right. "Nothing's changed since your last visit."

"Thank you, Uncle." Arline smiled warmly, though Valan caught her glancing at him before disappearing inside. "Good night, everyone."

"Celica, you're in the blue room next door." Mr. Telderan moved to the adjacent door. "I had the staff prepare new bedding this morning."

"Perfect! Thank you, Uncle Garon!" Celica practically bounced through the doorway. "See you tomorrow, Uncle Garon, Ferndall."

"And Ferndall." Mr. Telderan walked several doors down the hall and pushed open another room. "This guest room should suit you well. The washbasin has fresh water, and there are extra blankets in the wardrobe if you get cold."

Valan peered inside. The space featured a four-poster bed, a writing desk, and tall windows overlooking the estate's gardens.

"This is more than generous, sir. Thank you."

"Breakfast is at nine sharp," Mr. Telderan said. "Sleep well. We'll talk again tomorrow."

As Mr. Telderan's footsteps faded down the hall, Valan closed the door and leaned against it.

The tall windows drew his attention. Beyond the glass, Glendione sprawled before his eyes—a maze of gaslit streets, industrial smokestacks, and distant spires.

He walked and placed his travel pack on the writing desk and began removing his belongings. A few changes of clothes, some basic toiletries, and the leather-bound journal where he recorded his observations. He folded a shirt and set it aside, then paused.

He should sleep.

Yet, he felt restless.

He wasn't a tourist. He was here for a purpose.

Mr. Telderan had mentioned giving him a tour of the city. Valan started to think about his need to understand Glendione's layout, identify key locations, and begin mapping potential routes.

It gave him a sense of nostalgia in his past life, checking optimal routes when delivering his cargo.

He left his belongings as he approached the windows. He pressed his palm against the glass.

Soon everyone would be asleep, he thought.

Then he could slip out and witness Glendione with his own eyes.