Pyra 15 – Pyra 20, Imperial Year 1644
The Eastern Road, Mercia – Toward Aelindor
The class had been on the road for three days since freeing Celia. She was still weak, riding in a cart that Rosalind had purchased from a farmer, but her strength was slowly returning. Hikari rode beside her, monitoring her pulse.
Elara led the group, her eyes on the horizon. The road east wound through rolling hills and past small villages. The spring rains had turned the ground to mud, but the sun was warm, and the birds were loud.
"We should reach the elven border in two weeks," Reinhard said, consulting a map. "Aelindor is not like Mercia. The elves keep to themselves. Strangers are not welcome."
"Then we don't go as strangers," Elara said. "We go as travelers seeking a lost friend."
"The elves don't have friends," Roderick muttered. "They have interests."
Celia spoke from the cart. "My mother was half‑elf. She said the high elves are proud. They won't harm you unless you offend them. So don't offend them."
"That's reassuring," Gregor said.
Pyra 16, Imperial Year 1644
A Crossroads Inn – Evening
The inn was called the Traveller's Rest, a modest building at a crossroads. The class stopped to buy provisions and rest the horses. The common room was crowded with merchants, farmers, and off‑duty soldiers.
Elara ordered bread and stew. The class took a corner table.
A fat merchant at the next table was holding court.
"…the prince marched on the capital," he said, his voice loud. "King Alaric didn't even put up a fight. He abdicated. Just like that."
"Abdicated?" another traveler asked. "Why?"
"The Black Knights. The pamphlets. His own son turning against him." The merchant shook his head. "The king was old. Tired. And scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Of Zero. Of the thunder weapon. Of the man who executed a duke in the throne room and walked away."
The class exchanged glances.
"So Prince Edric is king now?" Rosalind asked.
"Regent," the merchant said. "Alaric is still alive, but he's under house arrest. Edric is purging the court. Arresting the corrupt nobles. Putting them on trial."
"And the Black Knights?"
"No one knows. They've been quiet for weeks. But they struck three more targets before the prince's march – a slaver in the south, a cultist in the east, a corrupt merchant in the Free Cities." The merchant shrugged. "They're out there. Watching. Waiting."
Kaito leaned close to Elara. "Zero hasn't been seen since the speech at the gates."
"Maybe he's planning something bigger," Daiki said.
"Or maybe he's just letting Edric do the work."
Elara shook her head. "We don't know. And it's not our concern. Our concern is Isolde."
Pyra 18, Imperial Year 1644
The Road – Evening
They camped in a grove of birch trees. Celia was strong enough to walk now, though she tired quickly. She sat by the fire, staring at the flames.
"What was Isolde like?" she asked. "In the old life."
"Mei Nakamura," Elara said. "She was quiet. Artistic. She drew everything – people, landscapes, even the classroom." She smiled. "She gave me a drawing once. A portrait of me reading a book. I still have it. Somewhere."
"In Japan," Roderick said.
"Yes."
Celia looked down. "I don't remember much. Just flashes. A classroom. A window. A face."
"It'll come back," Hikari said. "It took years for mine."
"I hope so." Celia hugged her knees. "I feel like I'm only half a person."
"You're not half," Reinhard said. "You're whole. You're just missing memories. They'll return."
Celia nodded slowly.
Pyra 20, Imperial Year 1644
The Eastern Road – Morning
The class continued east. The hills grew steeper, the forests thicker. The air smelled of pine and damp earth.
Elara studied the map. "Another week to the border. Then we need to find Isolde's family estate."
"And if she doesn't want to come?" Gregor asked.
"Then we convince her. Or we leave her a way to contact us." Elara folded the map. "We don't force anyone."
Roderick grunted. "She's an elf noble. She might not want to leave her silk sheets for a muddy road."
"Then we respect that. But we at least try."
The road stretched ahead, empty and quiet.
Behind them, the rumors of rebellion and thunder faded.
Ahead, the unknown.
End of Chapter Fifty‑Five