Chapter 5: The Journey Begins

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the palace courtyard, where carriages and horses were being prepared for the journey to the Royal Academy. Servants bustled about, loading trunks and supplies, while guards stood at attention, their armor gleaming in the light.

Cedric stood by his carriage, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Today marked the beginning of a new chapter in his life—one that would determine his future and the legacy he would leave behind.

His siblings were already there, each surrounded by their own entourage. Edmund was deep in conversation with a group of noble advisors, his expression serious and commanding. Selene was inspecting her luggage with the precision of a general preparing for battle, her sharp eyes missing nothing. Roland, meanwhile, was laughing loudly with a group of knights, his boisterous voice carrying across the courtyard.

Cedric felt a pang of loneliness. He had no entourage, no advisors, no knights to laugh with. He was alone, as he always had been.

But not for long.

"Your Highness," a voice called, pulling him from his thoughts.

Cedric turned to see **Master Wyntor** approaching, his robes fluttering in the breeze. The old man's expression was unreadable, but there was a glint of something in his eyes—pride, perhaps, or maybe concern.

"Master Wyntor," Cedric greeted, bowing his head.

Wyntor stopped a few feet away, his gaze sweeping over the bustling courtyard. "It's a big day," he said quietly. "Are you ready?"

Cedric hesitated, then nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Wyntor smiled faintly. "Good. Remember what I told you. The academy is a battlefield, but it's also an opportunity. Use it wisely."

Cedric nodded again, his resolve hardening. "I will."

Wyntor reached into his robes and pulled out a small, leather-bound book. "Take this," he said, handing it to Cedric. "It's a journal I kept during my time at the academy. It may prove useful."

Cedric took the book, his fingers brushing against the worn leather. "Thank you," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.

Wyntor's expression softened. "You're welcome, Your Highness. Now go. Your future awaits."

With that, Wyntor turned and walked away, leaving Cedric alone once more.

---

The journey to the academy was long and arduous, the road winding through dense forests and rolling hills. Cedric spent most of the trip reading Wyntor's journal, absorbing every detail about the academy's history, its politics, and its challenges.

As the hours passed, the landscape began to change. The dense forests gave way to open plains, and the air grew cooler, carrying with it the faint scent of salt from the nearby sea.

Finally, as the sun began to set, the academy came into view.

It was an imposing structure, a sprawling fortress of gray stone perched atop a cliff overlooking the ocean. Its towers reached toward the sky, their peaks lost in the clouds, and its walls were lined with banners bearing the academy's crest—a phoenix rising from flames.

Cedric felt a surge of awe as he took in the sight. This was it—the place where his future would be decided.

The carriages came to a halt at the academy's gates, and Cedric stepped out, his legs stiff from the long ride. His siblings were already there, their expressions a mix of excitement and determination.

A group of instructors stood at the entrance, their robes marking them as members of the academy's faculty. At their head was a tall, stern-looking woman with sharp features and piercing green eyes.

"Welcome to the Royal Academy of Valeria," she said, her voice carrying across the courtyard. "I am Headmistress Elara, and I will be overseeing your time here. The academy is a place of learning, but it is also a place of challenge. Only the strongest, the smartest, and the most determined will succeed. Remember that."

With that, the headmistress turned and led the way into the academy, the students following in her wake.

---

The academy's interior was just as impressive as its exterior. The halls were lined with portraits of past graduates, their faces stern and regal, and the air was filled with the faint hum of activity.

Cedric's group was led to the Great Hall, a vast chamber filled with long wooden tables and benches. At the front of the room was a raised platform, where the headmistress stood, her gaze sweeping over the assembled students.

"Before we begin," she said, her voice echoing through the hall, "you will be sorted into your houses. The house you are placed in will determine your path here at the academy. Choose wisely."

With that, the sorting began. One by one, the students were called forward, their names echoing through the hall.

"Edmund Valerian," the headmistress called, her voice sharp and clear.

Edmund stepped forward, his expression calm and confident. He was placed in **House Steel**, the house of warriors and leaders.

"Selene Valerian," the headmistress called next.

Selene stepped forward, her movements graceful and deliberate. She was placed in **House Silk**, the house of diplomats and strategists.

"Roland Valerian," the headmistress called, her tone slightly disdainful.

Roland stepped forward, his chest puffed out with pride. He was placed in **House Steel**, much to his obvious delight.

Finally, it was Cedric's turn.

"Cedric Valerian," the headmistress called, her gaze falling on him.

Cedric stepped forward, his heart pounding. He could feel the weight of his siblings' stares, their eyes boring into his back.

The headmistress studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she spoke.

"House Stone," she said, her voice firm.

Cedric felt a surge of relief. House Stone was the house of builders and innovators, the house that valued creativity and ingenuity above all else. It was the perfect fit for him.

As he took his place among the other members of House Stone, Cedric felt a glimmer of hope. This was his chance to prove himself, to show the world what he was capable of.

And he wasn't going to waste it.