Edrian's pov :-
He set the cup down and straightened, stepping closer.
"Harlan is leading the escort," he said evenly. "Five knights. Irik has scouts positioned at every street intersection. Rhea and Corvin have reinforced the civic wards."
Lyanna exhaled slowly. "You sound very confident."
"I am," Edrian replied. "Because I didn't assign them as guards."
She frowned slightly. "Then what did you assign them as?"
"Witnesses," he said. "So they remember who they protect."
That earned a quiet smile.
"He's grown," Edrian added after a moment. "You saw it this morning."
Lyanna nodded. "He listens. He thinks. He doesn't rush to speak."
Edrian allowed himself a small, private pride. "Better than I was at his age."
"Better than most children," she said softly.
____
They left the study together, footsteps echoing lightly through the corridor as servants passed and bowed. Lyanna slipped her arm through Edrian's without thinking.
"Do you remember your first festival as lord?" she asked.
He snorted quietly. "I spent it arguing with a merchant over salt tariffs."
She laughed under her breath. "And now our son is out there buying bread and talking to farmers."
Edrian's expression warmed. "As he should."
They stepped onto the balcony overlooking the state.
Below them, the square glowed with color and movement.
Lanterns bobbed gently in the early evening air. Music drifted upward, mingling with laughter and the low murmur of hundreds of voices.
Horses stood patiently near carts, tails swishing lazily. Children danced in loose circles, ribbons flashing.
Lyanna leaned forward slightly, searching the crowd.
"There," she said softly.
Edrian followed her gaze.
Chris stood near the fountain, framed by knights who looked less like guards and more like distant uncles. He spoke animatedly to a civilian boy, his hands moving as he explained something with earnest seriousness.
Lyanna's chest tightened.
"He's safe," Edrian said.
"I know," she replied. "That's not what I'm afraid of."
Edrian glanced at her.
"I'm afraid of how much he belongs here," she said quietly.
Edrian was silent for a long moment.
"That," he said at last, "is why this state exists."
They stood together, watching the people celebrate,not a lord and lady, not rulers and subjects, but guardians of something fragile and worth preserving.
Below them, the Falkerona State lived.
And for this moment, it lived well.
____
The festival did not end all at once.
It softened.
Chris noticed it first in the music. The fiddles slowed, notes stretching longer between breaths.
Drums that had once kept children leaping now marked time more gently, as if reminding everyone that night had weight. Laughter lingered, but it no longer spilled, rather it settled.
Lanterns swayed above the square, their warm light casting slow-moving shadows across stone. Wax dripped down iron frames.
The smell of smoke replaced the sharper scents of roasting meat and cider.
Chris stood near the fountain, hands clasped behind his back again, copying the posture he'd been taught for public moments. His feet ached pleasantly. His cheeks felt warm from smiling too much.
A few knights, out of armor now, stood near a fire pit, laughing quietly as they shared bread with a group of merchants. One of them caught Chris looking and raised a hand in greeting.
Chris lifted his hand back, small and careful.
"They protect us," Chris thought. "But they're also just people."
Footsteps approached from behind.
measured & familiar.
"Young Master."
Chris turned at once.
Elis stood there, lantern in hand, posture relaxed now that the crowd had thinned. Her voice was still formal, but her eyes were softer.
"It's time," she said.
Chris nodded.
As they walked back through the square, Chris noticed the small things.
Merchants packing unsold goods carefully rather than hurriedly. Farmers helping one another lift crates onto carts. Children asleep against their parents' shoulders, faces smudged with honey and ash.
No one rushed.
The state knew how to end a day.
At the palace gates, Chris paused and looked back once more.
The banners fluttered gently. Lantern light reflected off stone that had stood for generations. Somewhere below, a voice laughed- tired, content.
"Did I do well today?" he asked quietly.
Elis stopped beside him.
"You did," she said after a moment. "Very well."
He looked up at her. "Even though I didn't do anything important?"
Elis smiled,small, proud, and a little sad.
"You did something very important," she said. "You belonged."
Chris considered that as they entered the palace, the gates closing behind them with a deep, steady sound.
Later, from his room, he could still hear faint echoes of the festival,music dissolving into night, the murmur of voices fading into rest.
Chris lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
Tomorrow would be lessons again. Training he couldn't join. Rules he didn't fully understand.
But today-
Today had been good.
And without knowing why, Chris held onto that feeling tightly, as if some quiet part of him already understood that days like this were not meant to be wasted.
They were meant to be remembered.
That night, as lanterns drifted upward and the mountains stood silent and watchful, the Falkerona State slept peacefully.
Because on that day-
a maid guarded more than a child,
a knight guarded more than walls,
a mage guarded more than wards,
and a civilian boy learned that power could be gentle.
And none of them knew how precious that peace truly was.
_____
Morning returned gently.
Chris woke to the sound of bells,small ones this time, hung along the inner corridors of the palace to mark the start of lessons rather than alarms or ceremonies.
Sunlight filtered through the narrow window beside his bed, pale and cool, washing the stone floor in soft gold.
For a moment, he lay still.
The echoes of last night lingered in his cheat.Music fading into quiet, lanterns dimming. It felt distant already, like something precious carefully folded away.
"Elis?" he called.
The door opened almost immediately.
"Yes, Young Master," Elis said, stepping inside with practiced grace.
She wore her usual dark dress, hair neatly tied back, posture precise. In the morning light, the faint lines of fatigue around her eyes were visible, but her voice was steady.
"Is it lessons today?" Chris asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Yes," she replied. "History."
Chris groaned softly and rolled onto his back. "History is just stories everyone agrees on."
Elis paused while adjusting his collar.
"That," she said evenly, "is exactly why it's important."
____
The history hall sat in the older wing of the palace complex, built when the Falkerona State was younger and less certain of its permanence.
The stone here was darker, the windows narrower. Wooden desks smoothed by decades of use were arranged in a shallow arc rather than straight rows, encouraging discussion rather than recitation.
Chris took his seat near the center.
Around him, other children settled in,some nobles, some children of officials, others from trusted civilian families whose parents served the state. They spoke in low voices, still tired from the festival.
At the front of the hall stood Master Albrecht.
He was not imposing.
Medium height, slender build, hair the color of ash tied back loosely at the nape of his neck. His robes were plain gray, without sigils or rank markings, and his voice when he spoke was calm, measured, and unhurried.
"Sit," he said simply.
Everyone did.
Master Albrecht placed a large rolled map on the central table and rested both hands atop it.
"Today," he said, "we will speak of AetherFall."
The room stilled.
Master Albrecht watched the children carefully as he unrolled the map.
It depicted the known lands in careful ink: mountain ranges sketched in thick lines, rivers traced like veins, borders marked with deliberate restraint.
Names were written clearly : human states most prominent, others noted in smaller script.
He tapped the center gently.
"This," he said, "is our world as we understand it."
A hand rose almost immediately.
"Yes?" Albrecht said.
"Why is it called Aether Fall?" the boy asked.
Albrecht did not answer right away.
Instead, he folded his hands behind his back and walked slowly along the edge of the table.
"Because," he said at last, "long before our states existed, something fundamental changed."
He gestured upward, not to the ceiling, but higher, conceptually.
"Power once flowed freely. Not safely. Not kindly. But freely. That age ended."
Chris leaned forward slightly.
"Did something fall?" he asked.
Albrecht met his eyes.
"Yes," he said. "And no."
A few students frowned.
"The world did not break," Albrecht continued. "It settled. Like water after a storm. What remained… learned to endure."
He paused.
"This is the history you are allowed to know."
The words were spoken gently.
But they landed heavily.
____
Chris stared at the map.
It was beautiful.
Clean.
Complete.
And somehow… wrong.
He raised his hand.
"Yes, Chris?" Albrecht said.
"Why are there empty spaces?" Chris asked, pointing to the northern edge of the parchment where the ink faded into blankness.
Several students glanced at one another.
Albrecht walked closer.
"Because maps," he said, "are not records of truth. They are records of agreement."
Chris frowned. "Agreement between who?"
"Those who draw them," Albrecht replied, "and those who must live with them."
Another student spoke up. "Are there people there?"
Albrecht's voice remained neutral. "There were. There may still be."
"But they're not on the map," Chris said.
"No," Albrecht agreed.
Silence followed.
A girl with braided hair and ink-stained fingers raised her hand hesitantly.
"My father says the elves live beyond the western forests."
Albrecht nodded. "They do."
"Why are they written so small?" she asked.
Albrecht considered his response carefully.
"Because," he said, "they do not wish to be large on our maps."
A boy snorted. "That's convenient."
Albrecht turned to him. "Convenience is rarely mutual."
That ended the laughter.
____
Chris studied the map again.
Human states were detailed. Roads, cities, farmlands.
Other races were… suggested.
"So," he said slowly, "this is what we're taught because it keeps things calm."
Albrecht looked at him for a long moment.
"Yes," he said. "Calm is not ignorance. It is balance."
Chris wasn't sure he believed that.
"What happens if someone draws a different map?" he asked.
Albrecht smiled faintly.
"Then," he said, "they must be prepared to explain why."
Elis's pov (Outside the Hall) :-
Elis stood just beyond the door, listening without appearing to.
She heard the pauses more than the words.
The careful phrasing.
The way Master Albrecht answered without answering. The way Chris's questions lingered just long enough to matter.
He's starting to notice, she thought.
That was good.
And dangerous.
___
Albrecht rolled the map closed slowly.
"History," he said, "is not what happened."
The students shifted.
"It is what we choose to remember," he continued. "And more importantly it is what we choose to forget."
He met Chris's gaze one last time.
"Your task," he said, "is not to challenge history yet."
A few children looked relieved.
"Your task," he added, "is to notice when something is missing."
The bell rang.
The lesson ended.
As the hall emptied, Chris remained seated, staring at where the map had been.
He felt no fear.
No dread.
Just a quiet certainty.
The world was larger than he was being shown.
And one day, he would want to see the parts no one talked about.
______
The palace felt different in the afternoon.
Not busier.
Not quieter.
Just… settled.
Chris walked beside Elis through the inner corridor that led toward his parents' private chambers, the soles of his boots tapping softly against stone.
Sunlight filtered through high windows, dust motes drifting lazily in its path. Somewhere deeper in the palace, pages turned, voices murmured, the steady life of governance continuing without pause.
"You were quiet after the lesson," Elis said.
Chris shrugged. "I was thinking."
"That's usually when you are," she replied.
They stopped at a tall wooden door guarded not by knights, but by familiarity. Elis knocked once.
"Come in," his father's voice answered.
____
Edrian stood near the writing desk when Chris entered, sleeves rolled, posture relaxed in the way it only was around family. Papers lay neatly stacked, a map partially folded at one corner, never fully put away, never fully open.
Lyanna sat by the window with a book resting closed in her lap, white hair falling loosely over her shoulder.
"How was history?" Edrian asked as Chris approached.
Chris didn't answer immediately.
Lyanna noticed that first.
She set the book aside. "What did you learn?"
Chris hesitated, then spoke carefully. "That history isn't everything."
Edrian's brow lifted slightly. "That's a large conclusion for one lesson."
"The instructor said," Chris continued, choosing his words, "that maps are agreements. Not truth."
Lyanna's fingers stilled.
Edrian leaned back against the desk. "And what did you think of that?"
Chris looked between them. "I think… it means people decide what others are allowed to know."
Silence followed.
Not heavy.
Attentive.
Lyanna's pov :-
Lyanna watched her son closely.
He stood straight, hands folded the way he'd been taught, eyes bright with curiosity rather than defiance.
There was no fear in him.
Only a need to understand.
He's not asking to challenge the world, she realized. He's asking how it works.
"That's not wrong," she said softly.
Chris turned to her at once. "Then why don't they tell us everything?"
Lyanna drew a slow breath.
"Because," she said, "some truths are heavy."
Edrian nodded. "And children are not meant to carry them yet."
Chris frowned. "But I noticed what was missing."
Edrian smiled faintly. "You were supposed to."
He stepped closer and crouched slightly so they were closer in height.
"Chris," Edrian said, voice steady, "do you remember the festival?"
"Yes."
"Do you remember how calm it was?"
"Yes."
"That calm exists," Edrian continued, "because not everyone knows everything all the time."
Chris absorbed that.
"So history is… filtered?"
"Yes," Edrian said simply. "Just like power."
Chris thought of the beast. Of Rodric turning it away instead of killing it.
"Is that why you don't talk about wars?" he asked.
Lyanna's gaze softened.
"Yes," she answered. "Because we don't want war to be the first thing you understand about the world."
_____
Chris looked down at his hands.
"I don't want to stay ignorant," he said quietly.
Edrian placed a hand on his shoulder. "And you won't."
Lyanna reached out and brushed Chris's hair back gently.
"There will come a time," she said, "when you are taught things because you need them, not because you're curious."
Chris looked up. "When?"
"When knowing won't break the things you still love," Lyanna replied.
That made him think.
"So… noticing missing things isn't bad?" he asked.
"No," Edrian said. "It's a skill."
"But acting on it too early is," Lyanna added gently.
Chris nodded slowly.
"I think," he said, "Master Albrecht wanted us to be calm. But also… awake."
Edrian's smile deepened. "He's a good teacher."
They stepped out onto the small private balcony together.
Below them, the state moved through its afternoon rhythm, carts creaking along stone roads, a pair of apprentices hauling water, a merchant arguing cheerfully with a customer over weight and price.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing urgent.
"Does the map show all of this?" Chris asked.
Edrian shook his head. "No."
"Then what's it for?"
"To remind us," Edrian said, "where responsibility begins."
Chris leaned forward slightly, watching people live their lives.
Lyanna rested a hand on his back.
"You'll learn more," she said softly. "Slowly. Properly."
Chris nodded.
He didn't feel frustrated.
He felt… trusted.
And for now, that was enough.
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[A/N :- guys make sure to comment your thoughts about the chapter and if possible please drop same power stones !!!! ]