Chapter 64 : The Sword That Stands Tall
Chapter 64 : The Sword That Stands Tall
Elara’s POV
The clang of steel rang across the academy courtyard. Dozens of students crowded around, their eyes fixed on the duel in the center.
I wiped sweat from my brow, blade still steady in my hand as my opponent’s sword clattered to the ground. He dropped to his knees, gasping for breath.
The instructor’s voice cut through the murmurs. “Match over! Winner—Elara Valemont.”
For a moment, silence. Then the whispers began—not mocking this time, not scornful, but grudging admiration.
“Again… she’s undefeated.”
“Valemont blood really is different.”
“Fallen noble or not, no one can touch her blade.”
I sheathed my sword and exhaled. At first, I’d fought only to defend my family’s honor, to claw back dignity from sneers and whispers. But now… I fought because the blade answered me, and because I could not stop.
As the crowd dispersed, a pair of figures remained at my side—two girls, both carrying practice swords of their own.
“You never even broke a sweat,” one of them huffed, brushing hair from her face. “Do you ever lose
, Elara?”I allowed myself the faintest smile. “Someday. But not today.”
The other girl grinned, leaning on her blade. “Good. Then we’ll keep following you. Better to be beside the strongest than crushed under her.”
I didn’t shoo them away. Friends, or perhaps shadows—either way, their presence was proof that I was no longer alone.
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No longer “just the daughter of fallen nobles.”
I was Elara Valemont. And the academy, at last, knew my name.
The academy library was quiet, the smell of old parchment heavy in the air. Edmond sat across from me, chin propped on his hand, pretending to study the maps spread between us. But his eyes kept drifting back to me.
“You’re staring again,” I said flatly.
He flinched, cheeks reddening. “I-I was not!”
I arched a brow.
“…Maybe a little,” he mumbled.
Despite myself, I smiled faintly. He hadn’t changed—still that boy who cried when mocked, yet somehow grew into the prince who never left my side.
“Edmond,” I said, lowering my voice. “There’s something you need to promise me.”
He sat up straight instantly. “Anything.”
“Don’t talk about Rooga to anyone. Not the academy. Not your friends. Not even your attendants. He… he has enough weight already. The less the world knows of him, the better.”
Edmond’s face shifted—guilt flickering across it.
“Elara… I already told my father.”
My head dropped into my hands. “…Of course you did.”
He scrambled to explain. “I-I couldn’t help it! He asked me why I always defend your family, why I never leave your side—and I said it’s not just you, but your brother too. How… how he’s special.”
“Edmond,” I groaned, dragging my palms down my face.
He leaned forward earnestly, eyes wide. “But you didn’t exactly keep it secret either! You’ve been boasting about him since the day we met! ‘My little brother is a genius, my little brother is different, my little brother will change everything—’”
My mouth opened to argue, then closed. Heat rushed to my cheeks. “…That’s different.”
“No, it isn’t!” He puffed out his chest, smiling boyishly. “Besides, if he really is that amazing, then my father should know. He’ll protect him, Elara. Just like he protects me.”
I sighed, shaking my head. Edmond meant well—he always did. But Bastille was Emperor first, father second. Protection and politics rarely walked hand in hand.
Still, when I met Edmond’s eyes, so full of stubborn light, I couldn’t bring myself to scold him further.
“…Fine,” I muttered. “But no one else. Swear it.”
He placed a hand over his chest solemnly. “I swear. For you, Elara.”
And for a moment, the weight on my shoulders felt just a little lighter.
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