Ethan and Sven packed their luggage in silence, each in their own corner of the room. With every item they stowed away, the weight of their decisions pressed upon them—a somber collection of reminders, yet these were choices they would willingly make again, a thousandfold. Minutes ticked by, and once every belonging was accounted for, Ethan approached his desk. There lay his umbrella, an innocuous ally in the midst of turmoil. As he picked it up, his gaze lingered on it, his grip tightening around the handle—a silent battle waged within. Yet, he soon relaxed his hold, recognizing the futility of succumbing to a storm of emotions once more.

"Ethan," Sven's voice cut through the silence.

Ethan paused, "What is it, Sven?"

"Are you truly going to comply with their demands? Do you intend to enlist?"

"What choice do I have, Sven? I thought you, of all people, would understand. I'm cornered."

Sven hesitated, "I... I've decided to return to my mother's side. She's had been living with her side of the family ever since my father divorced her. If you want... I could take you with me?"

Ethan regarded Sven with a complexity of emotions. Their history was a tapestry of conflict; initially, there was only animosity, but with time, understanding and a mutual respect had blossomed between them. Ethan felt a shift in his own demeanor—a softening perhaps. Sven was still young, and Ethan knew too well how the fires of youth could refine a person's character. 'Maybe I've been too harsh on him.' he mused.

It was true—children adapted quickly, their behaviors and identities shaped by their encounters and environments. Ethan pondered if his influence had played a role in Sven's transformation during their time at the academy. Yet, beyond personal growth, there was a deeper bond. Shared tragedies had drawn them closer—both had lost fathers, homes, and both sought refuge from the chaos surrounding them. Their fates, it seemed, were intertwined by the need to find solace in a world that had taken so much from them.

Ethan's face softened, and a wry smile—one that had become a stranger to him amidst the cascade of misfortunes—tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you, Sven, for considering me. But as you've heard, I lack the privilege of choice. My birth rights does not offer me paths but rather they were dictated from the start. Military service isn't an option; it's an edict. The academy was my only refuge, and even that has slipped through my fingers." His smile held a touch of sadness, reflecting the harsh realities that had befallen them both, yet also acknowledging the gesture of solidarity from his unlikely comrade.

"Ethan..."

Knock, Knock

"Ethan, Sven. Have you finished packing your luggage? It's time to go." Alfred's voice, steady and imbued with a certain solemnity, filtered through the door.

Ethan glanced at Sven, his eyes reflecting gratitude for the few who offered him solace in this lonely world. "Let's go." Ethan said as they moved to join Alfred, stepping into the uncertain future that awaited them.

"Yeah..."

Beyond the door, Alfred and Seraphine waited. As Ethan glimpsed Seraphine, he noticed a shift from her usual demeanor; her head was bowed, strands of her hair veiling her face. It was clear to Ethan and Sven that the news of their imminent departure and the calamity that had struck their homes had cast a shadow over her spirit. Did a tinge of sadness for their plight color her mood? Could she be harboring resentment for being kept in the dark until now? Or perhaps there was a hint of resentment at not being approached for help in their hour of need?

"Follow me." Alfred instructed with a tone that brokered no delay.

Ethan and Sven began to trail behind him, the rhythmic sound of their footsteps in stark contrast to Seraphine's stillness. She remained rooted to the spot, her stillness growing more pronounced against their movement. Sven's head turned back intermittently, his eyes seeking Seraphine, contemplating whether a parting word was needed. Yet Ethan, resolute in his silence, did not share this hesitation.

In Ethan's eyes, the world's harshness was a reality made starker by the social chasms that divided them. Seraphine, was atop a hierarchy that towered above even the nobility within the academy's walls, had compromised her standing by mingling with them. And now, as their paths diverged, Ethan deemed it best to leave things be. They had shared a camaraderie, yes, but to drag her into the mess of his predicaments would serve neither of them. In his mind, it was an unspoken act of care to leave her unaffected to the weight of their troubles.

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Seraphine's voice was a whisper, a wisp of sound barely escaping her lips. "W...W...Wait..."

Again, a bit louder but still a murmur, "Wait..."

Her questions, laced with silent desperation, sought the air around her. "Why? Why didn't you ask for my help? My mother... she could have done something. Why didn't you think to reach out to me?" But her soft pleas were lost, muffled and indecipherable to anyone but herself.

"WAIT!!!" Finally, her restraint shattered, her voice pealed out, commanding and desperate. But it was too late. When she turned around, she was met with nothing but the echo of her own cry. Her delay, longer than she realized, had cost her the chance to be heard. The trio had already departed from the premises, leaving her anchored to her spot, alone. Her typically cool composure had melted away, leaving behind a raw, desperate plea for connection that went unheard.

***

The trio stepped out of the academy to find two carriages awaiting them. One was shabby and bore more resemblance to a cage than a comfortable means of travel. Two armored soldiers flanked the entrance of this forbidding vehicle, their stance suggesting they were anticipating the transfer of a prisoner rather than a passenger.

In stark contrast, the other carriage was inviting, showcasing a well-crafted wooden structure adorned with a blue banner that featured intricate designs on its roof. A retinue of armed guards was arrayed in front, with a few butlers standing by, signaling readiness and a higher regard for whoever was to be their occupant.

Ethan cast his gaze upon the two disparate carriages, fully aware of the starkly different paths they represented and which one he was destined to board.

"Sven, being a member of the Viscar family, your mother has been notified of the circumstances. She has sent transportation for you," Alfred stated, his voice carrying the weight of authority, but there was a hint of reluctance in the role he had been assigned. "Per the academy's orders, I must ask you to depart immediately." His demeanor reflected the gravity of the situation, yet it was clear he felt conflicted about enforcing the abrupt separation.

Sven acknowledged the situation with a nod, the weight of the moment pressing upon him. Yet, there was a resolve in his eyes that hadn't been there before. He paused, turning to Ethan, and his voice carried a new-found determination.

"Ethan, I refuse to just accept how things are. I'm going to rebuild Thornfield, right from the ashes." Sven declared, his resolve steeling him. "So... you have to survive! Make it through, because when Thornfield stands tall again, you'll have a home to come back to—a place that's truly yours. It might take years, maybe even decades, but I'll make it happen. And don't think I'm going to be coddled at my mother's side. I'm going to grow stronger, gain power and authority... until I can rebuild everything we've lost."

His words weren't just a promise to Ethan; they were a vow to himself, a commitment to a future that he intended to forge with his own hands.

'Home, he says...' A wry smile tugged at Ethan's lips, his heart lightened by Sven's ambitious vow. In a silent show of solidarity and acknowledgment, he extended his hand—a gesture that carried a weight of meaning far beyond the simple act. For Sven, this was more than just an affirmation; it was the beginning of a renewed sense of purpose, the dawn of an aspirational goal, and above all, the birth of a friendship that had been forged in the fires of a new start.

Sven reached out, clasping Ethan's hand firmly. The unspoken pledge of support between them. For a moment, the world around them—the impending journey, the grim carriages, the soldiers—faded into the background. With this simple exchange, their paths diverged. Sven turned, shoulders set, towards the carriage that would take him to the safety and comfort of his mother's care—a world away from the uncertain fate that awaited Ethan. Ethan, meanwhile, faced the less inviting transport, the cage-like carriage meant for him, with a quiet courage.

"Ethan, wait," Alfred called out, his voice firm yet tinged with a warmth that belied his usually stoic demeanor.

Ethan paused, turning back with an inquisitive look. "What is it, Mister Alfred?"

Alfred extended his hand, revealing an item that seemed to carry significant weight, not in heft, but in meaning.

Seeing the object, a burst of laughter escaped Ethan, surprising even himself. "Ha... Hahaha! This feels like déjà vu, Mister Alfred," he remarked, recognizing the significance of the familiar token.

"Ethan, you have consistently surpassed my expectations," Alfred said, his voice laced with a rare blend of affection and respect. "You might be facing some of the darkest times of your life, but my instincts tell me you are more than what you seem. More than what this world has seen. Take this, and let it help you carve out your rightful place in this often unjust world."

Ethan's eyes softened, a sincere gratitude washing over him. "Thank you, Mister Alfred. Since the beginning, you've been my biggest ally. And even now, at this crossroad, you haven't given up on me. Thank you." His words were earnest, conveying a depth of appreciation for the unwavering support Alfred had provided.

Grasping the item, Ethan turned away from Alfred, the academy, and the life he had known, stepping into the austere carriage that awaited him. The door closed with a resounding thud, a symbolic end to one chapter and the uncertain beginning of another, underpinned by the belief that Alfred had in Ethan's potential to rise above his current station.

The sound of the soldier's commanding "Ha!" jerked the carriage into motion, the familiar silhouette of the academy receding into the distance. Ethan sat back against the hard seat, the rattle and jostle of the carriage hurtling away from his past. He lowered his head, attention captured by the item he held.

"Glad I get the chance to continue my studies."

A book, the title emblazoned across the cover in ornate script: [Introduction to Magic Theory II].