Chapter 6: The Road to Varsovia
The early morning sun cast a soft, golden glow over the rolling hills of Dracaena as Robert Sigismund Rest leaned back in his carriage, watching the scenery blur past. The rhythmic clatter of wheels over dirt and stone filled the air, accompanied by the faint hum of magic thrumming beneath the carriage. Outside, the metallic figures of horse golems pulled the convoy at an unnatural speed, their movements smooth and precise.
Each of the horse golems gleamed in the sunlight, their bodies fashioned from overlapping plates of deep gray metal. This was no ordinary steel but Draconium, a rare and durable material extracted from the mines near Dracaena. Draconium’s ability to conduct mana made it invaluable for golem creation and advanced magical constructs. The horses’ frames were adorned with intricate runes, glowing faintly with the power of the “Greater Speed” [5th Circle] array that propelled them forward.
Robert’s gaze drifted from the golems to the landscape outside—open fields stretching toward the distant horizon, dotted with clusters of trees and small farming hamlets. It was a familiar view, one he’d seen countless times from the estate’s towers. But today, there was something different about it. Today, he was leaving Dracaena behind, heading north to the King’s Summer Palace in Eastern Varsovia.
“It’ll be fine, Robert,” came Alexander’s calm voice from across the carriage. His cousin—distant by blood but close in bond—leaned back with a relaxed posture that contrasted sharply with Robert’s own tense demeanor. Alexander’s eyes, sharp and perceptive, watched Robert with a mixture of concern and reassurance. “It’s just a gathering. You’ve faced more intimidating situations in your training.”
Robert gave a half-hearted nod. “It’s not the gathering itself—it’s what comes with it. Every house will be watching, analyzing. Waiting for any sign of weakness.”
“True,” Alexander agreed thoughtfully. “But that’s the nature of politics, isn’t it? Everyone’s vying for power, influence… survival. That’s why it’s important to show them that you’re more than they expect.”
Robert let out a small sigh and looked down at his hands. His fingers twitched slightly, an unconscious habit he’d developed over the years. His own body felt like a stranger at times—weak, unreliable. He couldn’t match other heirs in feats of strength or agility. Even standing for long periods was exhausting.
Alexander shifted, leaning forward slightly. “I’ve been thinking… you’ve been focusing a lot on your summoning and telekinetic abilities, right? But what about your swordsmanship?”
Robert frowned, unsure of where Alexander was going with this. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re not particularly skilled with the blade,” Alexander continued matter-of-factly, his gaze flicking to the sword hanging at Robert’s side. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t learn to be. Why not try controlling it with your mind?”
Robert blinked. “You want me to use ‘Telekinetic Grip’ on my sword?”
“Exactly,” Alexander said, his expression encouraging. “You’ve used it to lift small objects before. Why not extend that control to your blade? Imagine being able to wield it in combat without touching it.”
Robert’s gaze dropped to the sword, his brow furrowing. He’d never thought about using his psychic abilities to compensate for his physical weaknesses in that way. He’d always viewed magic and swordsmanship as two separate disciplines, never realizing that, for him, they didn’t have to be.
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“I… I suppose I could try,” Robert murmured, his mind already racing with possibilities. “But it would be incredibly taxing to maintain.”
“Yes, it would,” Alexander acknowledged. “But that’s why you start small. Simple movements, basic strikes. You’ve got the control; it’s just a matter of practice. Think of it as combining your magic and your blade into a single weapon.”
Robert hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I’ll give it a try. It’s worth the effort.”
“Good.” Alexander’s smile widened slightly. “We’ll find some time for you to practice when we stop to rest. You might not master it today, but if you can show even a hint of that kind of control… it would certainly turn a few heads.”
They waited until the convoy reached a quiet clearing by the roadside, the sun high overhead casting dappled light through the canopy of trees. The metallic horse golems stood at ease, their frames still radiating a faint magical glow as the drivers and guards tended to them.
Robert stepped out of his carriage and took a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill his lungs. He drew the sword slowly, the blade whispering as it left the scabbard. The steel caught the sunlight, gleaming with an inner light that spoke of the enchantments laid upon it long ago.
“Just take it slow,” Alexander advised, standing a few paces away. “Remember, it’s about control, not power.”
Robert nodded, focusing his gaze on the blade. He let his mana flow, guiding it with the familiarity of long practice. The blade wavered slightly in the air, then rose a few inches as he wrapped his magic around it.
“Telekinetic Grip”.
He could feel the weight of the sword straining against his control, the magical energy pulsing through him in a steady drain. He clenched his jaw, concentrating on maintaining the grip. The blade trembled slightly, then stilled as he steadied his focus.
“Good,” Alexander murmured. “Now, try a basic strike. Just a small movement.”
Robert narrowed his eyes, his fingers twitching reflexively as he directed the blade forward. The sword moved in a slow, deliberate arc, cutting through the air before stopping in mid-swing. Sweat beaded on Robert’s brow, his mana reserves already depleting faster than he’d expected.
“It’s taking too much energy,” Robert gritted out, his voice strained.
“That’s normal,” Alexander said calmly. “You’re not used to manipulating something this large or heavy. It’s like trying to lift weights for the first time—you’ll tire quickly at first. But keep going, just for a few more minutes.”
Robert swallowed hard, forcing himself to push through the discomfort. He guided the blade through another swing, this one faster and slightly more controlled. He could feel the magic fraying at the edges, the mana cost rising with each passing second.
“Enough,” Alexander said suddenly, stepping forward. “Stop before you burn yourself out.”
With a shaky breath, Robert released the spell, letting the sword fall to the ground with a soft thud. He swayed slightly, his vision blurring for a moment as the sudden absence of strain left him feeling unsteady.
Alexander caught him by the shoulder, his grip firm and supportive. “Easy there. You did well for a first attempt.”
Robert managed a weak smile. “If that’s what you call well.”
“It is,” Alexander said seriously. “You moved the blade, controlled it. That’s more than most can do. You’ll get better with time.”
Robert nodded, though he still felt a twinge of frustration. He hated being reminded of his limitations, hated how quickly his body seemed to betray him. But Alexander was right—this was a new technique, one that would take time to master.
“I’ll keep practicing,” Robert said quietly, sheathing the blade with a shaky hand. “But it’ll take a lot of work.”
“And you’ve got plenty of time,” Alexander said with a grin. “Besides, you’re not doing this to win duels tomorrow. You’re doing it to show them—and yourself—that you can.”
Robert nodded slowly. He took another deep breath, steadying himself as he looked out over the clearing. The golems stood silently, their gleaming forms a testament to the power and skill of House Rest.
He would prove himself, one way or another. It would just take time.
“Let’s get moving,” Robert said finally, glancing back at the carriages. “We still have a long way to go.”
The convoy set off once more, the metallic horse golems pulling them forward with tireless efficiency. Robert settled back into his seat, his mind still buzzing with thoughts of the practice session. It would take time and effort to master the technique, but the potential it offered was immense.
As the day wore on and the sun dipped lower in the sky, the landscape changed, the open fields giving way to the rolling countryside of Eastern Varsovia. Robert felt his nerves rise again as they approached the Summer Palace, its white stone walls glowing faintly in the evening light.
As they passed through the gates and entered the palace grounds, Robert took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come.
He stepped out of the carriage, supporting himself with “Levitate”, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin. He couldn’t afford to show weakness.
‘Be yourself,’ he reminded himself, his resolve hardening. ‘But be the best version of yourself.’
With that thought firmly in mind, Robert stepped forward, ready to face whatever awaited him within the walls of the King’s Summer Palace.