Kümme

The morning mist clung to the trees as Juhtmed, Veyla, and Lian continued their march toward Kümme Academy. The distant warning from the mounted soldiers echoed in their minds, but none of them spoke of it. The forest around them felt different now, every shadow stretching just a little too long, every distant rustle carrying an edge of unease.

The road, once well-maintained, had grown rugged as they climbed higher into the hills. The stones beneath their boots were slick with dew, and the trees thickened around them, casting the path into dappled half-light.

"We should reach the academy at noon," Lian said, her tone calculating.

Veyla sighed, rolling her shoulders. "Good. Sleeping on the ground was fun and all, but I wouldn't mind a real bed."

Juhtmed said nothing, his gaze locked ahead. The weight of the journey pressed on him, but so did the anticipation. Kümme Academy was not just another stop—it was a different kind of school. The noble houses, the politics, the unseen forces that had conspired against him before would surely be lying in wait. But he would be ready.

As they rounded a bend, a new sight stopped them in their tracks.

Ahead, the forest gave way to an expanse of open land, and at its center, Kümme Academy rose like a fortress of knowledge and power. Towering stone walls enclosed the vast complex, with spires reaching toward the sky. Banners bearing the academy's crest fluttered in the breeze, and beyond the outer walls, the tops of grand towers and halls could be seen.

A long bridge stretched over a deep ravine, the only passage into the academy grounds. The sheer drop beneath it was enough to make even the most confident traveler hesitate.

"Well, they certainly don't make it welcoming," Veyla muttered.

Juhtmed inhaled slowly. "Let's go."

They crossed the bridge, the stone beneath their feet solid but worn with age. As they neared the massive iron gates, a row of guards in polished armor stood watch, their eyes keen and assessing. Other students were arriving as well, some in small groups, others alone, their gazes wary as they took in their soon-to-be peers.

A herald in academy robes stepped forward, unrolling a parchment. "State your name and purpose."

"Juhtmed," he said firmly. "Accepted student."

The herald's eyes flickered with recognition but remained unreadable. "Proceed."

Lian and Veyla followed suit, earning only a cursory glance before they were waved through.

Inside, the academy's grandeur unfolded. The courtyard was vast, lined with marble pillars and statues of historical figures. Students moved through the space, some already forming groups, others standing alone, observing. The tension was thick—rivalries, alliances, and unseen battles were already brewing.

Juhtmed barely had time to take it all in before a slow, mocking clap echoed through the air.

"Well, well. look at who finally arrives."

Juhtmed turned to see a figure leaning casually against a pillar, dressed in fine academy robes embroidered with the insignia of House Sellebel. Renard.

A smirk played on the noble's lips as he stepped forward, flanked by his usual entourage. Callen Varessen stood at his right, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. To Renard's left, Emilia Thorne examined her nails in feigned disinterest, while Julius Wren shifted uncomfortably behind them, as if regretting his decision to be there.

Juhtmed kept his posture relaxed. "I see you enjoy the sound of your own voice."

Renard chuckled. "And I see you lack proper manners. But that's expected from someone who was raised like a commoners and with have a concubine as a mother."

Veyla stepped closer to Juhtmed, her expression darkening, but he placed a hand on her arm in silent warning. This was not the time.

Renard sighed dramatically. "You know, I was worried you don't make it. And I thought… how delightful. A living reminder that some people simply don't just fit in place they don't belong."

Juhtmed met his gaze evenly. "And yet, here I am."

Renard's smirk twitched slightly. "Tell you what. Since I'm feeling generous, I'll give you a chance to prove you deserve to be here. A simple test. A duel."

Silence fell over the courtyard. Students turned, eager for the first conflict. Even some instructors watched from the balconies above, observing.

Juhtmed exhaled slowly. He knew this was coming, not this soon but it sound cliché. The academy may had its own rules, and proving oneself through combat was one of them. Refusing would mark him as weak. Accepting meant stepping into Renard's game.

"Fine," Juhtmed said.

Renard's smile widened. "Excellent." He gestured toward the Grand Hall. "Then let's make it official."

As the students began moving toward the dueling grounds, Veyla leaned in close. "You sure about this?"

Juhtmed gave a small, determined smile. "I need to show him and others that i'm not the juhtmed they known, i didn't expect this to happen as soon as i step here."

Lian, silent until now, placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm confident in you your highness."

Juhtmed nodded. He had no intention of losing.

The dueling ground was an open courtyard, ringed by stone and lined with training dummies, weapons racks, and sets of armor. A crowd had gathered, eager to witness the academy's first duel of the year.

Renard stood across from Juhtmed, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted his grip on the training sword. An Instructor step out his name Varcus Morn stepped forward, his expression impassive. "Rules are simple. No permanent injuries, no killing blows. Otherwise, anything goes. Understood?"

Both nodded.

"Begin."

Renard moved first, as expected, his strikes aggressive and controlled. His technique was polished, honed through years of noble training. Each swing of his blade aimed to overwhelm, to force Juhtmed into submission.

Juhtmed didn't fight back immediately. He parried, sidestepped, letting Renard dictate the rhythm—for now.

"You're awfully quiet," Renard mused, pressing forward. "Nervous?"

Juhtmed blocked another strike, shifting his weight as he narrowly avoided a follow-up slash. "Just thinking how predictable you are."

Renard's smirk faltered for a fraction of a second.

Then Juhtmed struck.

Pivoting sharply, he deflected Renard's next attack, stepped inside his guard, and drove his elbow into the noble's ribs. The impact sent a sharp breath from Renard's lips, and the crowd stirred at the unexpected shift.

Juhtmed didn't let up. He advanced, each strike faster, more precise. Renard tried to counter, but his movements had changed—hesitation crept in.

Renard feinted left before slashing upward. Juhtmed caught the blade against his own, absorbing the force. Renard's eyes gleamed. He was trying to push Juhtmed off balance.

Not this time.

Juhtmed pivoted, using Renard's own momentum against him. A swift kick to the back of the knee sent Renard stumbling.

The noble snarled, recovering, but it was too late.

Juhtmed swept his sword low, disarming him with a sharp flick of his wrist. Renard's weapon clattered to the ground.

Silence.

Morn stepped forward. "The duel is over. Juhtmed wins."

A ripple of whispers spread through the onlookers. Some were impressed. Others shocked.

Renard's expression darkened, "how, as far as i know you never practice swordsmanship nor have training." He said growling.

"There's a lot of things that you don't know about me."

Juhtmed turned, walking toward where Veyla and Lian stood waiting.

Veyla grinned. "That was satisfying."

The whispers followed Juhtmed as he strode away from the dueling grounds. The weight of countless stares pressed against his back—some curious, some impressed, and others bitter with quiet resentment.

Veyla fell into step beside him, her grin still lingering. "Well, that was fun to watch. You really shut that smug bastard up."

Lian was more reserved, her eyes flicking toward the dispersing crowd. "You've made an impression."

Juhtmed exhaled slowly. That's exactly what I didn't want this early. He had planned to enter Kümme Academy with a degree of caution, to observe before drawing too much attention. But Renard had forced his hand.

"An impression is fine," he murmured. "Enemies before I've even unpacked my things? Not so much."

Lian scoffed. "Renard was always going to be your enemy. You just made it clear that you won't roll over for him."

Juhtmed didn't disagree, but he wasn't naïve enough to think that a single duel would settle things. Renard didn't look like some entitled noble; he was well-connected, influential, and, more than anything, prideful. And I just humiliated him in front of everyone.

As they reached the entrance of the student dormitories, a voice cut through the murmurs around them.

"You fight well."

Juhtmed turned. A young man leaned against one of the marble columns, arms crossed over his chest. He was tall, with sharp, angular features and dark hair neatly pulled back. His robes bore a sigil of a phrygian cap.

Lian inclined her head slightly. "And you are?"

Ignoring lian the man pushed himself off the column, stepping closer. "Renard underestimates people he thinks are beneath him. You caught him off guard. But he'll come back harder next time."

Juhtmed met his gaze. "I'm counting on it."

He studied him for a moment before nodding. "Good. It'll be interesting to see how you hold up when he does."

With that, he turned and walked away.

Veyla let out a breath. "It wasn't a threat. More like… curiosity."

Lian tilted her head. "Well, he didn't reveal who he are so you must be careful your highness."

Juhtmed wasn't sure which he preferred.

Their assigned dormitory was a towering stone structure, separated into different wings based on status. Juhtmed, Lian, and Veyla were placed in the Celestine Wing, the highest-born nobles and aristocrats, the Aspira Wing, closer to the main halls where for students of mixed backgrounds—nobility and commoners alike—were housed.

Inside, the dorm was more luxurious than Juhtmed had expected. Each student had their own room, modest but well-furnished. A large common area with a fireplace and several bookshelves filled the center of the wing, and beyond that, a wide balcony overlooked the academy grounds.

Juhtmed set his belongings down and ran a hand over the wooden desk near the window. It was strange, this feeling of displacement. I want this to be different. The thought flickered through his mind unbidden, but he shoved it aside.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

Lian stepped inside, her expression unreadable. "I spoke with an instructor. Orientation begins tomorrow morning. We'll be assigned our academic and combat training schedules then."

Juhtmed nodded. "And Renard?"

She sighed. "Word is, he went straight to his dorms after the duel. No doubt his complaining about you."

That was expected. Lord Sellebel was a powerful figure, one who participated in the fondements of this academy, and someone who had made it clear that Juhtmed's presence here was unwelcome.

"Let him complain," Juhtmed said. "Nothing he says will change the fact that I belong here."

Lian hesitated. "Juhtmed… you should be careful."

He turned to her fully. "I won't cower before them."

"I'm not asking you to." Her gaze was steady. "Just don't underestimate the lengths they'll go to."

He appreciated her concern, but he had no intention of backing down.

As night settled over the academy, Juhtmed found himself on the balcony, gazing out over the courtyard. The torches flickered in the darkness, their glow casting long shadows against the stone.

His mind drifted back to the duel. The moment he had disarmed Renard, the silence that had followed. He had won.

Renard wasn't the real threat. The people behind him were. And Juhtmed had just declared himself an obstacle.

A soft rustling of fabric signaled Veyla's approach. She leaned against the railing beside him, arms crossed.

"You're thinking too much."

He glanced at her. "Should I not?"

She snorted. "Not like you can do anything about it right now. Worry about the fights that are in front of you, not the ones that haven't started yet."

Juhtmed smirked. "I thought you enjoyed planning ahead."

"I enjoy winning," she corrected. "Which is why I'm telling you to get some sleep. You'll need it."

She wasn't wrong.

As he stepped back inside, closing the door behind him, one final thought lingered in his mind.

This is only the beginning.

Tomorrow and after, the true battle would begin.