Chapter 19: Into the Unknown

The Emperor's words still hung in the air.

For most of his life, Juhtmed had been a footnote in the empire's. A false son of the Emperor. 

The Emperor exhaled through his nose, a quiet finality in the gesture. "Then it is settled."

With a slight flick of his hand, an attendant stepped forward to refill his wine. "The details will be arranged. You will depart at the end of the month."

Juhtmed kept his expression neutral, though inside, his mind sharpened.

The end of the month.

It was sooner than he had expected. Too soon, if he was being honest.

Not just because he needed to prepare physically—though that was a concern—but also mentally stepping into a den of heirs, nobles, and future rulers. People who had spent their entire lives being shaped for this.

And Juhtmed?

He would have none of that.

The Emperor had made it clear: he would not have his father's support.

Across the table, Lady Meridia regarded him with a slow, knowing smile. "I wonder," she mused, voice silky, "how the other heirs will take to your presence."

Juhtmed understood the meaning beneath her words.

Elden. Patrick. His elder brothers—both backed by noble houses that had invested years into their rise. They would not take this lightly.

And neither would the lords who had already chosen a side.

But Juhtmed had made peace with that risk the moment he agreed.

"I suppose I will find out," he said simply, meeting Lady Meridia's gaze.

Her smile deepened, though whether in amusement or something else, he couldn't quite tell.

The Emperor, meanwhile, had already turned his attention elsewhere, as if the matter was settled in his mind. He lifted his wine goblet but did not drink. "You should take this time to prepare," he said, almost idly. "The academy will be unlike anything you have known before."

Juhtmed inclined his head. "I understand."

The Emperor finally took a sip before setting the goblet down with deliberate ease. "Then see to it that you do not waste this opportunity."

Juhtmed did not miss the warning beneath his words.

A quiet hum of conversation resumed around the table as nobles turned their attention elsewhere. He could feel the shift in the air.

A movement at his side caught his attention. Lian had been silent throughout the conversation, but now she leaned in slightly, speaking in a voice low enough for only him to hear.

"You have more enemies than allies in this room."

Juhtmed exhaled softly. "I know."

"Then you should leave before anyone decides to make their position clearer."

She wasn't wrong.

Juhtmed turned toward the Emperor and inclined his head. "If you'll excuse me, Your Majesty."

The Emperor barely acknowledged him. "Go."

Juhtmed stepped back from the table, feeling the weight of eyes following him as he moved. He had known this would happen. That his presence would shift the balance in ways that neither his brothers nor their supporters would appreciate.

But knowing it did not make it easier to stomach.

The whispers started before he had even reached the door.

"Why now?"

"He won't last a month."

Juhtmed didn't stop walking. He kept his expression calm, unreadable, but his fingers curled slightly at his sides. He knew better than to let their words get under his skin.

Let them talk.

Talk meant they were paying attention.

And attention was something he could use.

Lian followed him without a word, her footsteps light against the polished marble floors. They moved past the towering columns of the banquet hall, past the gold-threaded banners that bore the imperial sigil.

The corridors outside were quieter, but the tension still clung to him.

As they reached his quarters, Lian finally broke the silence.

"You made a bold move tonight."

Juhtmed let out a slow breath. "It was necessary."

She studied him for a moment before nodding. "Then we should begin preparations. If you are to survive Kümme, you'll need more than boldness."

Juhtmed turned toward the window. Beyond the palace walls, the imperial city stretched out beneath the night sky, its lanterns glowing like distant stars.

He had thrown the first stone into still waters.

Now, he had to be ready for the waves that followed.

His jaw tightened.

"We should wait to know more about this Kümme, first wait for the Emperor informations about it."

The days following the banquet passed in a blur of training and silent contemplation.

Juhtmed had thrown himself into his lessons with Kaitsja, determined to carve progress out of his own limitations. Each morning, he woke before the sun rose, the cool air biting against his skin as he pushed his body beyond its limits. The wooden training sword in his grip felt lighter now—just barely—but his movements were still slower than they should have been. Every strike, every parry, was met with Kaitsja's unyielding defense, and every mistake was punished with swift correction.

It was frustrating.

He knew he had improved, if only by the smallest margin, yet it was not enough. He was not a natural warrior, nor had he been trained since childhood like his brothers. Every step forward felt agonizingly small, a reminder of just how much further he had to go.

Still, he did not stop. He could not stop.

On the fourth day after the banquet, his body ached from the exertion, sweat slicking his skin as he gasped for breath. Kaitsja, as composed as ever, simply lowered his training sword and regarded him with an impassive gaze.

"You are learning," he said simply. "But it still not enough."

Juhtmed grit his teeth but said nothing. Kaitsja was not mocking him; he was simply stating a fact.

And Juhtmed hated how true it was.

The academy would not wait for him to become stronger.

Kümme.

The name had weighed on his mind ever since the banquet, but he still knew so little about it. What kind of training would they endure? What kind of people would he be up against?

His answer came sooner than expected.

As he returned to his quarters after training, exhausted and sore, he found a letter waiting for him on his desk. The Emperor's seal gleamed in the candlelight, the wax unbroken.

Juhtmed's heartbeat quickened as he took the letter in his hands. He hesitated only for a moment before breaking the seal and unfolding the parchment.

His eyes scanned the words quickly, absorbing every detail.

Kümme was situated on a neutral island, its location strategically chosen to prevent interference from any of the participating nations. The academy itself was new—a collaboration between Lumetorm and Kristallid. That, at least, was a small advantage.

No student there would have seniority.

Everyone would be stepping into unknown territory, himself included.

But that was where the advantages ended.

The Emperor had made it clear: Juhtmed would have no support. No allies from the imperial court, no noble backing, no safety net. The only thing he would receive was a grant—just enough to sustain himself during his time there.

Nothing more.

Juhtmed exhaled slowly, letting the parchment rest in his lap.

This was it.

The moment he stepped foot on that island, he would not be a prince. Not a forgotten son of the Emperor.

Just another competitor.

And in a place filled with ambitious heirs, warriors, and future rulers…

He would have to fight to carve out his place.

One way or another.

The candlelight flickered against the parchment, making the ink shimmer as Juhtmed read the letter again, slower this time.

No allies. No advantages.

He had expected as much, but seeing it written in such stark, make him more at ease.

Kümme was meant to forge rulers, warriors, and strategists. A place where strength was tested and the weak would be cast aside.

Juhtmed let out a slow breath, his fingers tightening around the letter before he set it aside.

The Emperor had made his stance clear. He would grant Juhtmed the bare minimum—a sum of money to sustain himself—but nothing more.

A part of him had always known it would come to this.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Come in," he said.

Lian stepped inside, her sharp gaze flicking from him to the letter on his desk. "The Emperor's response?"

Juhtmed gave a short nod. "The academy is spotted on a neutral island. Everyone there will be new."

Lian's brow arched slightly. "That works in your favor."

"It does." He leaned back in his chair. "Its better like this, and since there no influence of my family i will be more free."

"No name to shackle you, either."

Juhtmed looked up. Lian met his gaze with quiet intensity, her arms crossed as she leaned against the door frame.

At court, he was an afterthought. A political inconvenience. But at Kümme, he could define himself.

And yet… that meant he had to be strong enough to stand without it.

Juhtmed rose from his chair. "We're going to have to speed up my training until the end of the month before we leave."

Lian studied him for a long moment before nodding. "I'll speak to Kaitsja."

As she turned to leave, Juhtmed picked up the letter one last time, letting the words etch themselves into his mind.

No support. No allies. 

Good.

That meant he had nothing to lose.

Juhtmed spent the remaining weeks before his departure in relentless preparation. Every morning began before dawn, the crisp air sharpening his senses as he trained with Kaitsja. He was merciless, pushing him beyond exhaustion, forcing him to find reserves of strength he didn't know he had.

His muscles burned, his skin bruised, but he did not falter.

Each night, Juhtmed collapsed into bed, exhaustion pulling at him. But sleep did not come easily.

His mind was restless.

The future was uncertain.

And then, all too soon, the final night arrived.

Juhtmed stood at the edge of the palace grounds, the imperial city stretching before him in the dark. This was the last time he would see it as a prince.

Tomorrow, he would be just another competitor.

Lian joined him at his side. "Everything is ready," she said quietly. "The ship leaves at dawn."

Juhtmed inhaled deeply. The weight of the moment pressed against his ribs, but he did not bend beneath it.

"Then let's go," he said.

The time for hesitation was over.

Now, the real test would begin.