Great Journey: Whims of Fate

Sibelle entered the room early in the morning to find Elyra lying atop Bastion, both of them naked and asleep, with him still nestled inside her. She could tell something must have happened to Bastion during the night for Elyra to abandon her post and comfort him. That alone was enough to cause her mild concern.

There had been nothing wrong with the blessing the day before, aside from Bastion suddenly feeling sleepy. The blessing had been the same as always, so this seemed like a separate issue. Still, Bastion had a social debut coming soon, so she gently woke them to begin preparations.

As the pair roused, Sibelle took in Bastion's bare form with quiet pride. She had cared for him since infancy, and to this day, he remained the oddest child she had ever raised.

He had never cried, not even once. From the day he was born, he was mature beyond his years. He ate without complaint, even when the portions were too large. He trained without protest, even when enduring broken bones and open wounds. He studied on his own, never needing a tutor to guide or motivate him. He was a genius, and raising him had required no effort.

Yet, she was proud of the man he had become. He resembled his father in many ways, his chiseled physique, his striking looks, his sparkling translucent hair. There was no doubt he would be popular with the ladies at the Academy, just like his father.

Sibelle's heart swelled with equal pride for Elyra, now assisting Bastion with his bath. 

Elyra had been Bastion's opposite in every way as a child, sensitive, stubborn, and rebellious. She cried often, refused vegetables, disliked studying, and wanted to be an adventurer.

She wanted to be free and independent, something Sibelle was willing to grant after a trial period. If necessary, she would simply train another candidate as had been done in the past. After all, many shadow wolfkin throughout history had chosen to abandon their duty. 

Elyra had trained tirelessly since the age of five, determined to escape her responsibilities and live independently. Her talents in both close combat and magic quickly became evident, surpassing even Sibelle at the same age.

That was, until she met Bastion.

Elyra wasn't supposed to be there the night he was attacked. She had snuck away to judge for herself the man she was meant to serve, the one fated to become her Master.

Sibelle watched in silence from the shadows as she faced the assassin. She watched as Elyra claimed her first kill. She watched as Bastion remained calm, offering comfort instead of fear. She watched as Elyra let go of her dream of freedom and embraced a life of servitude. She watched as the perfect shadow fell in love with her master.

'Now, she would probably slit my throat if I suggested she considered pursuing her independence,' Sibelle thought with a chuckle as Bastion got dressed.

Elyra had grown into a strong, confident, and beautiful young woman.

'She surprisingly takes after me despite the lack of blood relations,' Sibelle mused. 'Based on the position I found them in this morning, she takes after me in bed as well.'

"Is something the matter, Sibelle?" Bastion asked.

"Just reliving old memories, Young Master."

"I wouldn't call your memories old, Sibelle. You're still quite young, after all."

"My, quite the charmer you've become, Young Master," Sibelle said with a light smile.

She was so proud of the children she had raised.

"Young Master, you've been invited to a social gathering at the Royal Palace," Sibelle announced. "Attendance is mandatory, as per your father's orders."

"Immediately after turning eighteen? Seems rushed, doesn't it?"

"It won't be for a few months. You only have two years before joining the academy, and it was mentioned that your equals would be attending."

"Details?" Bastion asked.

"The invitation describes it as a simple social gathering, but it's likely meant to formally introduce His Highness, Prince Julius Lionhart, to the public," she explained. "Your father suspects he's being positioned as the next King of the realm."

"Sounds about right, given the circumstances. No other prince among the hundreds before has ever been introduced in such a manner," Bastion said, then asked, "Is there anyone else I should be aware of coming?"

"Damian Steelhart, heir to the Steelhart Dukedom. Cyrus Phoenixhart, heir to the Phoenixhart Dukedom. The rest are nobles from Central."

"So this is less of a true crown prince's debut and more of a children's party. I'm somewhat disappointed."

"You still need to attend, young master."

"I know. At least I don't have to interact with anyone beyond the other heirs. His Highness will probably be too busy showing off to his friends anyway."

"Don't fall for Damian's provocations, and try not to intimidate Cyrus. I hear he's skittish."

"Thank you, Sibelle, for the advice."

Lessons continued, focusing on manners, etiquette, speaking skills, and dance, all meant to give Bastion a refresher on navigating noble social gatherings.

Elyra joined him as his plus one. She might be an assassin and a maid, but she was a shadow first and foremost, and shadows received special treatment due to the importance of their role to the kingdom. Just as the dwarves, lizardmen, and hawkmen were important to the kingdom.

A few months later, Bastion journeyed to Aurenthal City, the capital of the kingdom and home to the royal palace. He traveled by carriage alongside a heavily armed shipment of goods bound for the capital.

Bastion had been excited to see the new world he lived in, but his expectations were quickly dashed. He had imagined grand forests, sprawling hills, towering mountains, vibrant plants in every hue, and perhaps even floating islands, anything that screamed fantasy. Instead, all he saw for days on end were endless farmlands.

It felt no different from a long drive across states.

One redeeming feature of the journey, however, was the sight of the top of a massive tree in the distance, just beyond the northern mountain range.

The walls of the castle Bastion had lived in were so tall that he had never seen the outside world. But now, there it was, a tree so immense it dwarfed the mountains and stretched above the horizon.

It was the most awe-inspiring, fantasy-like sight Bastion had ever seen.

The speed of their travel was another redeeming feature. They moved as quickly as cars on the interstate while riding in armored carriages. The horses, bred and trained for endurance, could run for days without slowing.

It took them only a week to reach the center of the kingdom from the eastern end, a much shorter journey than Bastion had anticipated thanks to the pristine, wide road connecting Diamondhart Castle to the Lionhart Royal Palace.

"Master, we've arrived at Aurenthal," Elyra said gently, waking Bastion from his slumber.

She was dressed in the same standard maid uniform Sibelle often wore, simple yet crisp, with just enough elegance to fit the title of a proper shadow attendant.

"Have I told you how lovely you look, Eli?" Bastion murmured as he stirred.

"Approximately one hundred and seventeen times now, Master."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

He chuckled softly, then turned to peer out the carriage window, just in time to catch sight of the colossal outer wall stretching endlessly toward the horizon. The entire capital lay protected within its embrace, a silent testament to the threats this world must have faced in ages past.

As their carriage passed through the city gates, the view opened up, and Bastion's breath caught. The royal palace loomed high above the rest of the capital, a gleaming centerpiece of power and majesty, so grand it almost felt unreal.

Aurenthal struck Bastion like something pulled from a dream, elegant, immense, and alive with magic. The city rose like a crown of polished stone and iron, domes and spires gleaming alongside shimmering crystal and enchanted glass. Wide boulevards, lit by magical lanterns, cut through orderly rows of red-brick townhouses and neoclassical buildings adorned with ivy and intricate carvings.

Everywhere he looked, the architecture told a story, of tradition upheld and progress embraced, of a kingdom steeped in myth yet not afraid to grow.

It was a sprawling city, easily stretching for miles in every direction. Bastion couldn't help but think it could house millions. Still, the medieval charm was unmistakable, enriched by the tasteful, almost playful use of magic woven into every stone and streetlamp.

People wore a wide range of clothing, from linen and fur to armor, robes, and even underwear. Weapons were a common sight, hanging at their waists or strapped across their backs. 

Hawkmen flew overhead with messenger bags, likely working as couriers. Flying mounts of every shape, size, and species filled the skies, some with riders and others drifting freely. Mages, wizards, and sorcerers moved through the air between spiraling towers with practiced ease.

Nothing screamed fantasy more than the sight before Bastion's eyes.

He leaned back in his seat, eyes wide with wonder. Whatever lay ahead, he was ready, this world had so much more to show him.

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