GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation

Vol 2 - Chapter XXII.V - Class & Quarter

[**]

I stared at the elaborate spread before me, food worth more than what most people in the outer ring would see in a month. The dining area of father's mansion stretched out like a grand hall, fancy chairs lining the long table. Only me, sitting alone at one end, the emptiness of the room making the clink of my silverware sound unnaturally loud.

"Lord Atherwind," Hans said, standing rigidly by the wall. His tone carried the same measured authority he'd used when correcting my posture as a child, tempered now by the careful distance father had instructed him to maintain. "Today is your Academy entrance test day. You should finish your meal."

I prodded at the eggs with my fork, watching the yolk break and run across the plate. Something seems to twist my stomach today. Maybe reminder of a broken promise, of a distance life that was left behind.

"I'm not hungry, Hans," I muttered, pushing the plate away slightly.

"Your father would insist on proper nutrition before such an important day, my lord."

My father would insist on a lot of things. Ever since he'd dragged mother and me from Elnor to this mansion of marble and expectations, it had been nothing but lessons, training, and endless reminders of what it meant to be an Atherwind. "Could you face your mother with that half-baked effort?" he'd said whenever I faltered. "The Atherwind name cannot show weakness. Our house descends from royalty itself."

I glanced around at the ostentatious dining room with its crystal chandelier and portraits of long-dead Atherwinds watching with painted disapproval. The Academy test was my chance—perhaps my only chance—to prove myself on my own terms, not as my father's son.

"Fine," I conceded, pulling the plate back and forcing down another bite. I could taste nothing. Four years had passed since we'd left Elnor, but some days it felt like just yesterday. Mother had been different after we arrived in Lona. Something vital had faded from her with each passing season until...

"My lord, your carriage will depart in twenty minutes," Hans said, interrupting my thoughts.

I nodded silently. Mother wouldn't have wanted me to dwell in the past. Not today.

"Be the finest self you can be, Kein," her voice echoed in my memory, soft and gentle like always. Even on her deathbed, she'd smiled at me. "Become the best you were meant to be. I'll forever be with you."

Was it truly her dying wish? Or had I been too consumed by grief to hear something else in her words? In the two years since her passing, I'd buried myself in training, becoming the perfect noble son my father demanded. Sword strikes until my hands blistered. Etiquette lessons that stripped away any trace of my former self. I'd excelled at them all.

For what? For whom?

I pushed away from the table, the chair scraping against marble floors. Hans didn't comment on my barely-touched meal.

"Is there anything else you require before departure, Lord Atherwind?"

"No, Hans. Thank you."

The weight of the approaching test drove me to the window, where I could see the Academy's distant spires piercing the morning haze. Today should have been different. Today was supposed to be the fulfillment of a promise made years ago in a dusty square in Elnor. Vel, Celia, and I would attend the Academy together.

But what was the point now? Mother would never see me graduate. Never see what I'd become.

I drew myself up straight, adjusted my ceremonial sword. Weakness wasn't permitted—not for an Atherwind. Perhaps not for me either, anymore.