Chapter 10: Beyond the manor gates

The next few days passed quickly but quietly, and now it was the eve of the day that the twins would finally get to explore more of the world they had been reborn into.

That night, Lilibeth was preparing food for the family to take with them on the journey to Marchten, which included cured meat sandwiches, flasks of water, and small snacks like cookies and dried fruit. She packed them neatly into a satchel and brought it to Lucina, who sat on the floor in the welcoming hall, folding garments into a wooden chest.

“Thank you, dear,” Lucina said, taking the food from her hands.

Lucina made sure Lea and Leo’s cloaks were prepared for the morning and laid them on a small table near the front door so they would not be forgotten.

And then, the day of the trip came.

The Kazantria family stood at the gates once more, but this time all together. The morning sun spread pale gold over the land and the trees lining the path toward Endlost Forest. A thin mist clung low to the ground, curling around the carriage wheels and horse hooves.

“Alright,” Solan said firmly, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his hip. “Three days’ journey to Marchten. Keep close, Lea, Leo, and do as I or your mother says.”

“Yes, Father,” the twins replied in unison.

The outfits they wore were sewn by their mother. Lucina often liked to sit near her bedchamber window to read or knit, and these were her latest creations. Both twins wore black-trimmed white shirts with green sleeves and had brown cloaks wrapped around their shoulders. Lea’s outfit had a knee-high skirt, white like her top with black trim at the hem, while Leo wore trousers in the same pattern.

Leo grinned faintly, tugging at the wooden practice sword as it hung at his side. His soft blond hair ruffled slightly in the breeze. Lea adjusted the ribbon Lucina had tied in her hair that morning, her green eyes flicking toward the wide road ahead.

The carriage door opened. Inside, cushioned benches were on either side, and a chest of their belongings sat secured at the end with leather straps. Lilibeth would remain behind to watch over the manor, so this journey was only for the Kazantria family.

The twins climbed in first, eyes wide with excitement at the thought of their first true journey beyond Endlost and Attalon. Even though Linae’s absence still weighed on their hearts, they tried to stay positive about the new things they would discover. Lucina then followed in behind them, the door shut with a soft thud before Solan took the reins.

The wheels creaked, the horses neighed, and slowly the manor shrank behind them. Lea pressed her face to the glass, watching the gates fade into the morning mist. Leo sat back, his fingers tapping against his knees, restless with anticipation. The road stretched ahead, long and winding. Forests rose on either side, birds darting across the pale morning sky.

“We’re really going…” Lea whispered.

Lucina, seated opposite them, gave a gentle smile, her hazel eyes soft. “Yes, my darlings. By the time we reach Marchten, the city will already be alive with song and celebration. You’ll see that Athnea’s festival is going to be something truly memorable.”

Solan nodded in agreement, glancing through the window at his family. “And when we arrive, we’ll all visit the great cathedral. That will be your first time in a true church. Perhaps, if the gods will it, your blessings may awaken soon. Then you’ll be able to train like your older sister—maybe even one day surpass her.”

The dirt road stretched ahead, uneven and scattered with stones. The wheels rumbled over them with a constant rhythm. To Leo, it felt like a march into adventure. Lea, by contrast, pressed her nose to the glass at every turn, her emerald eyes darting to the far hills, to farmers tending to their fields, to flocks of animals that scattered when the carriage passed. She felt as though the world had suddenly opened, wide and endless, and it made her heart race with both wonder and a slight sense of nervousness.

That first night, they did not stay in a manor or an inn but beneath the stars. The carriage was pulled into a small clearing, where Solan built a fire and Lucina spread blankets for the children inside.

“Sleep, my dears, me and your father will keep vigilant during the night, so rest easy until we reach the city.” She gave them each a kiss on the forehead, their small bodies curled against the padded benches, but the sounds of the night carried through their dreams, the bristle of leaves, the hiss of firewood, the faint neighs of the steeds…

By dawn, the twins were up again, rubbing the sleep from their eyes as Solan tightened the harnesses on the horses. The air was heavy with coolness with dew, and the sky was more cloudy and dark this morning.

The second day was much the same, though the rhythm of travel had begun to settle into them. The road wound through stretches of open land and hills where sunbeams cut down though the clouds, painting beams of light across the path.

Leo often stared out at the scenery, imagining himself running between them with a real sword in hand. He thought of Alten and how Linae left on her own adventure. His small fingers clenched around the wooden door handle, the longing to prove himself gnawing deeper each hour.

Lea, on the other hand, saw the little things like the bird nests perched high in the sparse trees along the path, the wildflowers along the roadside, and the way the air smelled different back home. Yet she also thought back to school trips in her past life, to that bus that had carried her and Haruki through mountain roads. The memory felt distant but impactful, and she had to blink hard to push it away. This wasn’t Japan. This wasn’t her old life. This was all she had now.

That night, the carriage again became their shelter. The children fell asleep quickly, but not before overhearing their parents’ low voices outside. Lucina spoke of the road ahead, her words filled with both caution and calm. Solan promised he would keep watch until dawn. Their parents’ presence, even unspoken, gave the twins the peace they needed to sleep soundly.

By the third day, the road was no longer quiet. Carriages rattled ahead and behind, families with banners fluttering above them, pilgrims walking with staffs in hand, their voices singing to Athnea. The air itself seemed charged with anticipation, as if the land was already humming with the festival spirit.

The twins leaned out the windows, their eyes darting from face to face. A group of children waved as they passed, and Lea instinctively raised her hand in return, her heart squeezing tight at the familiarity of such a simple gesture.

Beside her, Leo was quieter, his gaze sharper. He noticed the way travelers carried weapons openly—bows slung across their backs, swords at their hips, shields strapped to their backs. Even the poorest pilgrims looked hardened, their steps steady and purposeful.

Lea looked at her brother’s face, recognizing the silent tension there. She squeezed his hand without a word, and he squeezed back. For all the unknowns waiting ahead, at least they would face it together.

And so the Kazantria family pressed on, the city not yet visible but drawing nearer with every turn of the wheels and step of the horses.

By the third evening, the hills gave way to large open plains, and at last the horizon began to change.

Leo was the first to notice it through the window: towering silhouettes jutting upward, faint at first, then sharpening with every mile. “Look,” he muttered, astonished.

Lea pressed close beside him. Beyond the fields, towers rose into the sky. Maybe a dozen of them, tall and pale, their spires catching the golden sunset light until they seemed to glow like gold. The walls beneath them stretched wide, large stone blocks surrounding the city, and from within came a faint glimmer of countless lanterns.

Marchten.

Even from a distance, it pulsed with life. Smoke from the countless hearths curled faintly into the sky. Bells rang faintly, the sound carried by the wind. Carriages and pilgrims crowded the road more heavily now, forming a river of motion flowing toward the vast gates.

“Whoa…” Lea whispered, her eyes wide. “It’s… bigger than I imagined.”

Solan slowed the reins, glancing back at his children through the small window. “And that’s only the outside. Just wait until you see the rest of the place.”

The carriage rolled closer, passing through the gates. Solan handed a guard what seemed to be a sort of identification card, then they continued inside. The wheels clattered against cobblestones as they reached the outlying streets. Wooden homes and shops lined the outer roads, their shutters thrown wide as locals sold food, charms, and trinkets to travelers. Voices rose all around. This was the most people and noise the kids had witnessed in a long time, and the first in their lives.

It was overwhelming for the twins, who had known only the calm of the manor and the forests of Endlost.

Lea pressed her palms against the glass, taking it all in. The stalls overflowing with baked goods and grilled meat, the children darting their eyes between the stalls, the banners of bright cloth flapping overhead. A warmth stirred in her chest, the same wonder she had once felt walking through city streets in Japan at night. This was different, noisier, but even more alive.

Leo, though, sat straighter, his expression firm. His eyes caught the armed guards at the gates, the sharpened spears gleaming, the mercenaries loitering in the streets. His fingers twitched toward the hilt of his practice sword. Unlike Lea, his wonder came laced with wariness.

As they passed through the massive gates, Solan’s voice rumbled from the driver’s bench. “Marchten—the cathedral city of Ronayah and home to the church of the heavenly council. Every god has a shrine here, but the cathedral, although initially built to worship the goddess Athnea, is now the main center of worship for all the gods of our world. You'll see. It's like nothing you've seen before.”