novelraw Chapter 111 : The Return Home
Chapter 111 : The Return Home
(Elara Valemont’s POV)
The carriage wheels hummed softly against the stone road, and the familiar scent of the northern fields hit me long before the estate came into view.
Home.
After months at the academy, the air here always felt lighter — warmer.
Seris sat across from me, arms folded, gazing out the window. “You’re smiling,” she said, smirking faintly. “You only do that when you’re close to home.”
I ignored her tone and adjusted my gloves. “Midyear break isn’t long. I’ll use it wisely.”
Edmond, sitting beside her, laughed awkwardly. “By wisely, you mean training until your sword breaks?”
Seris glanced at him, unimpressed. “Better than hiding behind textbooks.”
He huffed. “They’re strategy manuals!”
I sighed softly. “Children, please.”
They both quieted. Some things never changed.
The carriage crested the last hill, and the estate finally came into view.
Golden fields spread out under the morning sun, the familiar white walls standing firm amid the trees.
But what caught my attention wasn’t the house.
It was the front yard — alive with movement and sound.
At least a dozen boys stood in formation, swinging wooden swords in rhythm.
Their small voices echoed through the air, shouting as they cut through the wind.
And among them — unmistakable, even from a distance — was Rooga.
His hair was longer than I remembered, his expression focused, his swings surprisingly clean for someone his age.
Beside him, a boy called out corrections to the others, trying to match Kain’s voice but failing miserably.
And there, leaning against a fence with his arms crossed, stood Kain himself, barking occasional instructions.
I blinked. “What… is happening here?”
The carriage stopped at the gate, and I stepped out, Seris and Edmond following.
The boys barely noticed — they were too busy trying to stay upright under Kain’s watch.
“Straighten your backs!” he shouted. “You call that a swing? My grandmother swings harder in her sleep!”
One boy dropped his sword from exhaustion.
Kain sighed. “And that’s why I drink.”
Edmond whispered, “Are those all students?”
Seris squinted. “They look five.”
I took a few steps forward, watching Rooga as he caught his breath.
He didn’t see me yet — too focused on copying Father’s distant movements at the other end of the yard.
Even from here, Father’s sword rose and fell in its perfect rhythm, and Rooga’s smaller form tried desperately to match it.
Something tightened in my chest — pride, maybe, or surprise.
“When did this start?” I murmured.
Kain finally noticed us. His expression lit up with a grin. “Well, if it isn’t the lioness herself. Back from the fancy academy, huh?”
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I rolled my eyes. “And you’re still the same loud relic, I see.”
He laughed. “You say that like it’s an insult.”
The boys had stopped swinging now, all turning to look at us. Rooga froze mid-motion, then blinked as recognition dawned.
“...Big sister?”
I smiled. “You’ve grown.”
He ran over, sword still in hand, beaming. “You’re back!”
“Midyear holiday,” I said, patting his head. “And what’s all this?”
The boy beside him puffed up his chest. “Training! Mr. Kain’s teaching us to be swordsmen! We’ve been at it every day!”
Seris raised an eyebrow. “Every day?”
Rooga nodded proudly. “Father said we have to swing until we understand what the sword is.”
Edmond chuckled nervously. “That… sounds like Darius.”
Kain crossed his arms. “He’s got good instincts, that one. He doesn’t look away when the sword comes down. Not even once.”
I looked back at Rooga, who was already practicing again, copying Father’s movements in silence.
Something about the sight made me smile.
When I left, he was just a small, quiet boy who spent his days near the pond.
Now he stood with dirt on his hands and fire in his eyes.
Seris stepped beside me, her voice low. “He’s changed.”
“He’s learning,” I said softly.
Behind us, Edmond whispered to no one in particular, “So this is the Valemont house, huh? Even their children train like soldiers.”
Kain laughed from behind him. “Welcome to the family, boy. Here, we swing before breakfast.”
Evening in Valemont always came with the sound of swords.
It wasn’t harsh or violent—more like rhythm, steady and sharp, cutting through the air like a heartbeat.
After dinner, when most children would be running home or falling asleep, Father’s field filled with that rhythm again.
And this time, I stood beside the fence, watching.
The group of boys I’d seen earlier were back—lined up, sweaty but determined, their small hands gripping wooden swords.
Kain stood before them, barking his usual chaos in the form of discipline.
“Don’t stare at your blade, feel it!”
“Back straight, feet steady—if you fall, you get up, you hear me?!”
The boys shouted back, “Yes, sir!”
Their voices cracked, but their spirit didn’t.
I couldn’t help but smile. “They really do this every day?”
Father, who was sitting nearby polishing his sword, nodded. “Every sunrise and every sunset. Kain started it. They wanted to stay.”
“Wanted?” I raised an eyebrow. “Or were threatened?”
He chuckled. “A bit of both.”
As the light dimmed, Kain clapped his hands together. “Alright, end of the day means the usual! Line up!”
The boys shuffled into a small circle in the dirt.
Two stepped into the center with wooden swords ready, excitement written all over their faces.
A small mock spar to end the day.
They weren’t graceful—far from it.
Their swings were wild, their feet clumsy, but there was a kind of raw energy in their movements.
Each one fought like they wanted to prove something—to Kain, to Father, maybe to themselves.
One by one they fought, laughing and panting, falling and rising again until the final pair clashed with all the reckless energy of boys who forgot how tired they were.
The watching boys shouted encouragement, cheering so loud it almost made me forget how small they all were.
When it was over, the last two collapsed in the dirt, gasping, grinning.
Kain ruffled their hair with a sigh. “Alright, that’s enough glory for today. Elara, come meet your brother’s little army.”
I stepped forward, folding my arms. “Army, huh? Looks more like a mud parade.”
A few of the boys laughed nervously. One of them, the loudest and sweatiest, straightened up and bowed awkwardly. “I’m Crome, Miss! Mr. Darius teaches me sometimes too!”
“Crome?” I repeated. “That’s… an interesting name.”
He grinned. “And this is Arel, Lume, and Toris! We’re all training to be swordsmen!”
The others nodded quickly, proud of themselves.
None of them seemed shy—just full of noisy energy.
Then one pointed toward Rooga, who was wiping dirt off his cheek. “He’s the best, though. Nobody beats him.”
I looked at my little brother. He tried to look modest, but the faint smile gave him away.
The boys began packing up, still talking about who would win tomorrow’s spar.
The sound of their laughter filled the evening air.
I stood there for a while, watching them.
They were strong in their own way—stubborn, wild, and full of heart.
But as their swords clattered together one last time, something in me felt… off.
Their swings lacked the sharpness, the precision, the feeling that Father carried in every movement.
Even Rooga’s form, though steady, felt muted—like a flame not yet found.
As the last pair finished, I exhaled softly, almost to myself.
“I don’t see the Valemont spark in any of you.”
Father glanced at me from the fence, amused. “Careful. You’ll hurt their pride.”
I crossed my arms. “Then they should earn it first.”
Kain chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, the lion cub roars early.”
I didn’t answer. My eyes were still on Rooga—his hands still gripping the sword, his gaze fixed on Father’s shadow in the dusk.
Maybe the spark was there after all.
He just hadn’t learned how to make it burn.