Riven repeated every basic movement Ashtoria had taught him with genuine determination. Though his body at first felt stiff and awkward, he could sense his muscles quickly beginning to adapt. Each swing of the sword, each step, each breath became more measured. Not perfect yet, but far better than before.

Ashtoria observed from the side, her eyes calm yet calculating. From the beginning, she had suspected Riven was talented. To her, he was not someone who would struggle to grasp the fundamentals of swordsmanship. His body clearly carried traces of past training, and so it did not take long for him to adjust.

Meanwhile, Riven silently wished their journey toward the city of Glimfell could go a little slower. He realized something: ‘When else would I ever get a teacher like this? This kind of opportunity is far too precious to let slip by.’

When the training session ended, they resumed their travels. A sturdy brown horse pulled the small cart they rode on. Riven sat at the driver’s seat, reins held loosely in one hand, while Ashtoria and Melly rested inside. The wooden wheels creaked steadily against the dry dirt road. The sun had risen higher, warming his shoulders, still sore from the morning’s exertion.

For a while, silence lingered. Broken only by the sound of hooves striking earth, the groaning wheels, and the breeze slipping between trees. At last, Riven spoke, trying both to ease the quiet and distract himself from the fatigue weighing down his mind.

“Aria,” he called without turning, “what is life really like for a noble?”

His tone was light, but the curiosity behind the question was undeniable. He asked not only to know, but also to make the journey feel less monotonous.

Ashtoria paused. Her gaze drifted to the forest stretching out along the road.

“The life of a noble?” she murmured at last, then nodded faintly. “In general… nobles spend their days tending to the domains under their responsibility. They must ensure safety within their lands, care for the people living there, and make sure resources are managed properly.”

Riven nodded slowly, listening intently.

Ashtoria continued, her voice now flatter, as though reciting something she had been told countless times since childhood. “Beyond that, they spend much of their time in meetings, banquets, and grand feasts. Some of those gatherings are important. For obtaining information, forming alliances, or expanding connections. But many are simply about showing off wealth, flaunting status, or clinging to pride.”

Riven listened with a mix of awe and bewilderment. To him, such a life sounded far removed from the world he knew.

“So… they live to protect their lands, yet constantly have to compete against one another in influence and appearances?”

Ashtoria turned slightly and gave a small nod. “More or less. Behind the dinner tables and the gowns, there is always a game of power unfolding in silence. And if you let your guard down even once… someone will stab you in the back, whether with words or with a blade.”

Riven bit his lip lightly, then let out a small laugh. “Sounds far more dangerous than swinging a sword on the battlefield.”

Ashtoria gave the faintest of smiles, though she did not laugh. “Because it is. On the battlefield, your enemy is clear. But within the palace… friend and foe can change by the day.”

Riven fell silent, mulling over her words. The wind swept through his hair, carrying the scent of earth and wild grass. He realized the world this woman came from was far more complex than he had ever imagined.

The world of nobility was a world of politics and conspiracies. Riven had no love for such things. Coming from Earth, he had read novels and watched films about kingdoms and courts, he knew just how deceitful palace life could be.

And yet, strangely, that only made him want to understand Ashtoria even more.

Melly gazed at Ashtoria with wide, sparkling eyes, her curiosity unguarded. With her usual cheerful tone, she asked, “What about noble children? What’s their life like?”

Riven glanced at his sister, a small smile tugging at his lips at her enthusiasm. He knew Melly had always loved stories of castles and nobility—tales he used to read to her from old books they found in the village library. But this time, he too was curious to hear Ashtoria’s answer.

Ashtoria turned slowly, her gaze soft but honest as it met Melly’s. She thought for a moment before speaking in a calm tone.

“The life of a noble child… is not as beautiful as you imagine.”

Melly blinked, slightly taken aback by the reply.

“From a very young age, they are trained to be worthy heirs. They learn to read, write, study history, strategy, politics, diplomacy, etiquette, and foreign tongues. They must also train in combat and rigorously develop their Affinity. Each day, they are watched over by tutors, servants, or family overseers. Their schedules are packed, leaving little, sometimes no, time for play.”

She drew a quiet breath before continuing.

“They cannot freely choose what they like. Even who their friends are, where they can go, and what they are allowed to say, all are dictated. They must compete constantly. With their own siblings, and with the children of other noble families. They must never appear weak. Never cry. Never fail.”

The sparkle in Melly’s eyes dimmed, replaced by a mix of disappointment, confusion, and sadness.

“So… they can’t play whenever they want?”

Ashtoria shook her head. “No. Even laughter must wait for the right time and place. Noble children… are not ordinary children. They grow inside golden cages—luxurious, yet binding.”

Riven glanced at his sister, watching her fall into thought, her head lowered slightly. Her innocent face seemed to wrestle with the truth that clashed with her childhood dreams.

“Then… are they happy?” Melly whispered, so softly it was almost inaudible.

Ashtoria paused, then answered, “I don’t know. What I told you just now applies to most children from powerful families. That’s why many of them grow up arrogant. But… there are also those who live at ease, because their parents are not so strict.”

The air fell quiet again. The cart continued on, rolling across open grasslands before reaching a rocky road shaded beneath tall trees. The wind carried the scent of earth, while the wheels creaked to the rhythm of the horse’s gait.

But then—faint, from the distance—came the sound of other wheels. The groan of wood on stone, their rhythm unlike that of their own cart. Riven cast a quick glance backward.

A thin cloud of dust rose in the distance. Several horse-drawn carriages were slowly approaching along the same road.

“Hmm,” Riven muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes. “Looks like another group is coming.”

At first, he felt no suspicion. The road to Glimfell was busy enough; it wasn’t strange for merchants or noble families to travel the same path. It could simply be coincidence.

Melly, who had been resting inside, stirred when she caught the subtle shift in Riven’s tone. “What is it, Riven?” she asked.

“Some carriages behind us,” he replied, keeping his gaze forward. “Probably merchants. Or a noble family heading to the city.”

The carriages drew closer. Riven could now hear the pounding of more hooves echoing down the road. The wind carried the faint scent of horse sweat mixed with dust. Now and then, the sharp crack of whips rang out.

Riven forced himself to remain calm. He straightened his back, reins still firm in hand. Inside, he tried to reassure himself. ‘No way I’m unlucky enough to run into bandits, right?’

Minutes later, the gap between them closed. From the lead carriage, a loud voice rang out—commanding, sharp.

“Stop!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep