Chapter 82: Trouble

Chapter 82: Chapter 82: Trouble

"Duty is the great business of life. Do your duty, and leave the rest to fate—even if it means marching into a battle." — Duke of Wellington

The heavy oak doors of Master Vane’s office had slammed shut days ago.

They had remained that way ever since.

The rigid instructor had made his position painfully clear.

Riven was not welcome in his lecture hall.

The words had barely needed to be spoken.

Badland stray.

That was what the students called him now.

Queen Aeloria’s crown mandate had not given Riven free entry into Estar Academy. It had only given him the opportunity to take the entrance examinations in two years.

And after his disastrous first experience with formal education, the palace had come to a rather obvious conclusion.

Riven was going to fail.

Not because he lacked intelligence.

That was the problem.

He lacked everything else.

History.

Academic theory.

Formal spell weaving.

Political knowledge.

The things Estar expected its students to know before they even walked through the front gates.

So the palace changed his routine.

His days in crowded lecture halls were over.

Instead, they became long hours inside private study rooms with some of the most expensive scholars the crown could hire.

Master Illyrian was the first.

The ancient elf had grey hair that reached his waist and the patience of a stone statue.

He spent hours explaining the Treaty of Oakhaven, the territorial conflicts that followed it, the political structure of the northern kingdoms, and several centuries of border disputes that Riven had never heard of.

At first, Riven thought he was going to die from boredom.

Then he realized something.

Wars were logistics.

Treaties were logistics.

Trade routes were logistics.

Supply lines, military positioning, resource distribution, territorial control.

Once he stopped thinking about history as stories about dead kings and started treating it like a collection of military case studies, everything became easier.

He could remember entire campaigns after reading them once.

He could identify why certain armies had failed.

He could point out where commanders had overextended their supply lines.

He could even predict which territories would become strategically important decades later.

Master Illyrian had eventually stopped droning.

He had started staring at Riven instead.

"How did you reach that conclusion?"

Riven had simply shrugged.

"It made sense."

The old elf had stared at him for several seconds.

Then he had quietly added another book to the reading list.

Lady Aerwynn was worse.

She was a meticulous spell weaving instructor who seemed personally offended by the way Riven used magic.

"Again."

Riven sighed.

He raised his hand.

Shadow mana gathered around his fingers.

"Not like that."

Riven’s eyebrow twitched.

"Why?"

"Because that is brute force."

"It works."

"It is not proper spell construction."

"It still works."

Lady Aerwynn had spent nearly an hour explaining somatic catalysts.

Riven had spent another hour trying to imitate them.

Eventually, he learned the required movements.

Not because he liked them.

Because failing the entrance examinations was unacceptable.

He still preferred to shape his Shadow Core directly.

Like Garreth had taught him.

He still thought most of the academic procedures were unnecessarily complicated.

But he learned.

Slowly.

Reluctantly.

One subject at a time.

Two years remained before the entrance examinations.

And Riven intended to make sure that when the time came, nobody would be able to call him an ignorant stray again.

It was well past midnight.

The palace had become almost completely silent.

Heavy velvet curtains covered the windows, keeping the cool autumn wind outside. A single mana lamp illuminated Riven’s room with a soft, steady glow.

Riven sat at the heavy wooden desk.

His pale face was illuminated by the scattered pages covering the table.

Several books were open around him.

Political history.

Military strategy.

Mana theory.

Regional geography.

His dark eyes moved across a passage describing eastern trade routes.

He ignored most of the political commentary.

Instead, his mind focused on the movement of goods.

Grain.

Iron.

Weapons.

Mana crystals.

Food.

He studied the map beside the book.

If this road is blocked, the northern route becomes the primary supply line.

His finger moved across the parchment.

Which means the nearest military outpost would become vulnerable.

He turned the page.

Beside him, Nyx slept.

The small Umbral Wyvern was curled into a tight ball on a velvet cushion, her dark scales almost completely blending into the shadows.

Her violet eyes were closed.

For once, she was quiet.

Riven reached for another page.

Then the room changed.

A sharp hum vibrated through the air.

Riven’s hand stopped.

His eyes immediately dropped toward the desk.

Something was glowing.

Resting beside a stack of historical essays was the silver claw token Kalia had given him before departing.

The ancient tribal runes carved into its surface were no longer dormant.

They glowed with a faint amber light.

Pulse.

Pause.

Pulse.

Riven stared at it.

The rhythm was strangely irregular.

Almost like a heartbeat.

Nyx’s eyes snapped open.

Her head lifted.

A low hiss escaped her throat.

The shadows along the floor shifted in response.

Riven reached toward the token.

His fingers closed around the cold metal.

The instant he touched it, something brushed against his consciousness.

Not words.

Not an image.

Something much simpler.

Distance.

Fear.

Urgency.

Distress.

Riven’s expression hardened.

’Something is wrong.’

The sensation disappeared almost as quickly as it had arrived.

But the token continued glowing.

Riven studied the runes.

He had seen them before.

Kalia had called the object proof that the Silver Claw Tribe remembered its debts.

Apparently, it was more than that.

It was a means of communication.

And whatever was happening in the eastern valleys was powerful enough to activate it.

The door opened.

Riven immediately turned.

Lyra stepped into the room.

She wore a loose silver trimmed sleeping robe, and her silver blonde hair had been left unbraided. It fell around her shoulders in soft waves.

Her violet eyes were heavy with exhaustion.

She looked like someone who had spent far too long arguing with palace officials.

Then she noticed the glowing token.

Her expression changed instantly.

The exhaustion disappeared.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Throw it out the window."

Riven blinked.

Lyra marched toward the desk.

"Crush it. Burn it. Give it to the royal guard. I don’t care."

She grabbed the edge of the desk.

Her fingers tightened.

"What is she sending you messages with this now."

Riven looked at the token.

Then at Lyra.

"You finished your administrative work?"

"No."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because I sensed the mana shift in your room."

She pointed at the token.

"And now I’m happy I came."

Riven almost smiled.

Almost.

Lyra folded her arms.

"You have history essays tomorrow."

"I know."

"Aerwynn is going to make you practice spell forms for three hours."

"I know."

"And the entrance examinations are in two years."

"I know."

Lyra leaned closer.

"Then why are you looking at that thing when you have other things to do?"

Riven’s expression became serious.

"It’s a tribal communicator."

Lyra’s eyes flicked toward the token.

"It is reacting to an active mana disruption in the eastern valleys."

Her anger faltered.

Only slightly.

"What?"

Riven turned the token over.

The amber light pulsed again.

"Something is interfering with the mana surrounding it."

"Can you tell what?"

"Not yet."

"She might be in big trouble"

Lyra stared at him.

The room became quiet.

She knew that look.

Riven was not looking at the token because of Kalia.

He was looking at it because something was wrong.

That somehow made it worse.

"You’re actually going to investigate this."

Riven stood.

"If the eastern trade routes collapse, the northern flank becomes vulnerable."

He placed the token on the desk.

"That gives the syndicates another route into the region."

His eyes narrowed.

"And whoever caused this disruption is close enough to the border to matter."

Lyra closed her eyes.

She took a slow breath.

She hated it.

She hated that he was right.

She hated that Kalia was somehow connected to another crisis.

Most of all, she hated that Riven had once again found a reason to walk directly into danger.

When she opened her eyes again, the jealousy was still there.

So was the worry.

"Fine."

She stepped closer.

Her hand caught Riven’s sleeve.

"Go check your precious eastern frontier."

Riven looked down at her hand.

Lyra’s grip tightened.

"Clear the threat."

She glared up at him.

"But if you come back with so much as a scratch..."

Riven raised an eyebrow.

Lyra’s expression became frighteningly serious.

"Or if that beastgirl tries to convince you to stay longer."

A faint smirk appeared on Riven’s face.

"I’ll be back before Aerwynn’s next tutorial."

Lyra narrowed her eyes.

"You’d better be."

Riven slipped the glowing token into his coat pocket.

Nyx immediately leaped from the cushion and landed gracefully on his shoulder.

Her claws settled against the fabric.

She gave a quiet chitter.

Riven adjusted his coat.

"Keep the tutors busy."

Lyra stared at him.

Then she sighed.

"You realize that sentence makes it sound like you’re deliberately giving me all the difficult work."

"I am."

"Riven."

He turned toward the door.

"Try not to fail history while I’m gone."

Lyra’s mouth fell open.

"You are unbelievable."

Riven’s smirk widened.

Then he stepped into the hallway.

The door closed behind him.

Lyra remained standing in the center of the room.

She stared at the empty doorway.

Her irritation slowly faded.

What remained was worry.

And beneath it, something she refused to name.

"Come back safely," she whispered.

Far away, beyond the eastern mountains, the silver claw token pulsed again.

Something had happened in the valleys.

And Riven was already on his way.