Chương 162: Chapter 23: The Bravest Journey of All

The next day, Selena headed to the Office of Chaos. The place was, as always, plunged into a vital and dusty disorder. She took a deep breath, accepting the familiar scent of rancid ink, withered herbs, and parchment dust, and began her search. She checked all the bookshelves, one by one, moving piles of books carefully so as to not trigger a catastrophic collapse.

None was exclusively surrounded by history books; they were all chaotic mixtures of topics: alchemy, poetry, treatises on strange creatures, gardening manuals. Until, in a particularly dark corner behind a rickety folding screen, she found a small shelf set apart. It was covered by a thick, dusty blanket. Selena removed it with care.

Beneath it lay an orderly row, unusually orderly for Valerian, of volumes bound in dark leather, with titles engraved in gold that spoke of royal chronicles, wars of succession, and treatises on ancient geography. In the midst of them, like a deliberate intruder, lay not the book she was seeking, but a simple sheet of pristine white paper, folded in half. She picked it up. The handwriting was shaky, written in haste, but she recognized it instantly: it was Valerian's.

The message was brief, like a sigh between lines:"Welcome to the game." Selena held it between her fingers for a moment, then let it drop gently back onto the shelf. She sighed; this was not entirely a surprise. The jester, even in his most naked moments, could not resist a final wink, a reminder that even painful truths could be wrapped in layers of theater. But upon noticing it, Selena could not help a slight, almost tender smile. At least he hasn't collapsed, she thought. The man, the jester, the red resonant...

remains a functional person. Sometimes, in this world, functionality is the greatest act of resistance. As she was returning to her room in the Cloister of the Forest, she ran into an unexpected and somber trio. Yarra, Maya, and Ren were emerging from behind a group of trees with twisted trunks near the path. The broad-backed woodcutter, whose strong arms always looked as if they had been carved, was weeping openly. Her shoulders, normally square and firm, shook with deep, heartbroken sobs.

Maya walked beside her, a hand resting on her back, her face serious and compassionate. Ren followed them a step behind, his expression marked by a stoic sadness, but without tears. Selena knew it instantly. Although she said nothing; there was no need. Maya had explained it to her a day ago: those who did not obtain at least four of the eight objects in Isolde's test would have to relearn everything from scratch next year, while the others would advance.

Yarra's failure was palpable, a cloud of disappointment wrapping around her like fog. She approached in silence. The woodcutter, upon seeing her, barely nodded her head, unable to articulate a single word, and continued on her way, walking away with heavy steps, dragging the weight of her defeat. Once she had distanced herself enough, Selena looked at Ren. —Did you make it? —she asked, her voice low but clear. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Ren nodded, a blunt gesture. —That's right. Just this morning, I got the fourth. I was on my way to the room beneath the Atrium of Knowledge... I felt something very faint, almost a whisper, and I followed it. It was a piece of stiff, ancient fabric that had no other quality than... persisting. —He sighed; a sound of relief mixed with extreme fatigue— By a hair. And Maya got one more, likewise. Seven in total. Maya nodded, her expression was one of practical resignation.

—Yes, Isolde said I was good, but not enough for the next level. Not getting the last one was a clear sign of that, so I couldn't advance. —She paused and looked at Ren with a slight smile— But at least, with Ren, we won't start from scratch next year. That's something. Then, her gaze turned toward Selena, and a flash of nostalgia crossed her hazel eyes. —You know, the only thing I miss right now is seeing my family. —The confession was made with simplicity that disarmed— That's what holidays are for, right?

To go back, even if only for a while, to the place where everything began. She paused, studying Selena's face, who was looking at her with her head tilted to the right. —Will you go to see yours? Selena thought about it, and the gesture reflected on her face: a mixture of distant affection, duty, and a deep fatigue of traveling. —I could go see Valerius —she said at last, making a face— I suppose the little one must have been born already, or is about to be.

But Lumenburg is very far from here and I don't want to spend my holidays traveling again, from one end of the kingdom to the other, just to fulfill a protocol visit. She sighed, and a genuine, though tired smile appeared on her lips. —Maybe I'll stay here. With two resonants who couldn't entirely manage their perception test. We could... I don't know. Study or simply do nothing. That would also be a luxury, don't you think? Maya smiled, a flash of pure and unexpected joy illuminating her face.

Ren nodded, his martial severity softened by a gesture of silent but real gratitude. At that moment, beneath the golden, filtered light of the afternoon, surrounded by the expectant silence of the almost empty campus, Selena felt that, perhaps, holidays did not have to be about fleeing or fulfilling distant obligations. They could simply be about staying. About inhabiting a place and a moment without the urgency of a mission or the shadow of tragedy. Sometimes, she thought, staying is the bravest journey of all.

That day, they carried out the simplest and most human plan possible: they lost themselves in Kaelburg. They walked its cobblestone streets, entered bustling inns where the air smelled of warm beer, roasted meat, and old wood. They sat at a worn wooden table near a low fireplace, listening to a bard with a weathered harp sing ballads of lost loves and forgotten battles.

"We drank our wars from cups of tarnished tin and drifting smoke, You sealed my wounds with spit and scars no words could ever cloak. Now the harbor can't recall the names behind the mutiny, And these hands that never feared to die still couldn't hold on to thee. Some victories decay beneath the mud and drunken nights, like old forgotten lovers no one sings beneath the light."

They drank blonde beer, frothy and fresh, although Selena, with a caution burned into her by her experiences, never allowed herself to drink too much. She watched how Maya relaxed, how Ren let his guard down little by little, his military posture yielding to the warmth of alcohol and camaraderie. Night fell softly, weaving blue and purple shadows over the city. When they began the trek back to the university, the air was cool, smelling of night grass and distant smoke from chimneys.

Ren, with a few drinks too many, walked weaving slightly ahead of them, humming the bard's tune out of tune. Maya, also a bit tipsy, clung to Selena's arm with a drunken and affectionate trust.