Newfear

In the training grounds, where an eerie silence prevailed... except for the sharp sound of a sword slicing through the air.... Raymond was engrossed in his training.

The sword in his hand moved with both grace and violence, each motion calculated with deadly precision, as if it were part of his lethal dance. To him, the sword was not merely a weapon... it was the essence of his existence, the force that kept him alive amidst the chaos that surrounded him.

Then, he suddenly halted, freezing time in an intense stillness.

He took a deep breath, as if attempting to inhale something beyond his reach. Stepping away from his sword, he reached for a bottle of water, drinking slowly, his trembling hands betraying an inner turmoil that lingered in his mind. He wiped his forehead quickly, trying to mask his hidden unease, but the movement was odd... not just a sign of physical exhaustion, but something deeper. His once-hateful, suspicious gray eyes had lost their sharpness; now, they were empty... gray like the very shadows of war itself.

It was as if the battle had consumed him entirely, as if life itself had been reduced to these moments, caught between the wars he fought and the void he lived in.

But then, suddenly, he smiled.

As if a flicker of light had pierced his dark world. As if something distant, somewhere out there, granted him a hope he couldn't rid himself of.

He knew someone was waiting for him.

He knew someone filled his heart with love and worry.

And that hope was what restored his balance, granting him the strength to keep going.

He let out a quiet sigh, then set the bottle aside and reclaimed his sword. The next strike was more challenging, more forceful. But in that moment, he wasn't fighting for anything... except himself.

And he didn't know if that sword would protect him from the cruelty of the world or from the self that had lost its way in tangled paths.

But the silence of the night didn't last long…

The sound of hurried footsteps tore through the stillness like a siren forewarning disaster.

Raymond turned swiftly, strands of his short red hair flicking across his eyes.

Before he could even register the scene, he saw Rinus charging toward him with frantic desperation, his breath ragged, his face pale... like a man haunted by a ghost from the depths of the past.

The head servant, gasping, barely forming words: "L… Lord Raymond! You must… You must come immediately!"

Raymond's gray eyes narrowed. He wasn't one to panic easily, but seeing Rinus in this state unsettled him. A cold sense of danger crept into his chest.

Raymond, in a low, sharp voice: "What is it?"

The head servant swallowed hard, his voice trembling: "It's the seal of His Grace, Duke Vanheim. Her Grace… Duchess Sabrina… she…"

But he didn't finish. He couldn't.

And Raymond didn't ask.

He didn't need to hear more. He saw everything in the man's shaken eyes.

The sound of the water bottle hitting the ground was the last thing he heard before turning away, his steps firm, accelerating with each passing second.

Something inside him was screaming.

But he silenced it.

He tore the seal off the letter and read its contents.

There were only a few words.

Yet they carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

| "Brother… Come back quickly. Mother has died." |

He didn't need anything more.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze toward the horizon. The sky was heavy with dark clouds, and the wind howled through the vast courtyard, stirring the dust between the ancient stones. A light drizzle fell like a somber veil over the castle, streaming down the weathered stone walls... yet it washed away nothing of the weight in his chest.

The wind wailed between the rocks, and the mist crept forward like faceless specters. No voices, no city noise, no signs of life… as if the world itself mourned with him.

But the mountains did not bow, the sky did not break, and the wind did not carry the echo of the devastating news. How had nothing changed? How had time not stopped?

His eyes widened, but his face remained expressionless.

For a moment, he didn't know what he felt.

Was it anger?

Was it grief?

Was it shock?

Or a blend of everything?

Something new... something he had never experienced before... began to burn inside him.

Then, without a second thought, he ran at full speed.

The head servant called after him: "Lord Raymond!"

But he didn't stop.

He didn't turn back.

He leapt onto his horse and pressed his heels into its sides.

He charged forward like a storm, racing the wind, and with every image of his mother flashing through his mind, he pushed faster.

She was the only woman who had ever loved him without asking for anything in return.

four hours later…

Varlom, Eastern – At the Crimson Gate

He arrived at the gates of the grand palace. His horse panted heavily, and Raymond patted its neck, as if thanking it for enduring the journey.

There was no time for more.

As he advanced, guards blocked his path, weapons raised.

One of them spoke firmly: "Damn it, you again!? What do you want now!?"

But before Raymond could respond, a quiet yet commanding voice came from behind the gate.

"Stand down."

The gate creaked open slowly, revealing Talia Vanheim, his younger sister.

Her face was streaked with tears, her body trembling beneath the weight of sorrow.

Talia, her voice broken: "He's my brother… Raymond."

The guards' eyes widened, their hands shaking as they clutched their swords.

In an instant, they lowered their weapons and bowed their heads in respect.

Raymond, upon seeing his sister's tear-streaked face, clenched his fists.

He stepped forward slowly, stopping right in front of her.

He looked into her grief-stricken eyes and spoke in a low voice, carrying the weight of everything he had buried within himself his whole life.

Raymond: "All my life… I never let anyone bring all of you to tears. I was the shield that blocked the pain before it could ever reach you. But today… I stand powerless. Because the one tear I couldn't stop… was the one shed for our mother.".

His words carried a heaviness Talia could no longer bear.

In a moment of weakness, she collapsed into his arms, sobbing.

He held her close, resting his hand on her head in silence.

He wasn't good with words.

But he knew how to be a pillar for those who needed him... even without saying a thing.

Inside the palace courtyard…

As they entered, Dion Vanheim, their youngest brother, was waiting.

He stepped out of the palace doors, his movements heavy, his face pale, his eyes swollen from crying.

For a few seconds, they just stared at each other.

Then, without hesitation, Dion rushed forward and embraced him tightly.

Two silent tears slid down his cheeks, carrying the weight of loss and longing.

Dion, his voice choked: "I missed you… I never thought you'd return to us."

Raymond didn't respond immediately.

He remained silent, staring at his younger brother in his arms, feeling a burden he couldn't describe.

Finally, in a faint voice, he whispered: "Neither did I… I never thought my return would be because of something like this."

It was a wound he never anticipated.

He never imagined that he would return to this palace... the one he had left behind so many years ago... only to witness its collapse.

As Dion began crying again, Raymond lifted his head and wiped his tears roughly, as if they were something unbefitting of him.

Raymond, firmly but with hidden warmth: "If I see any of you crying again… I will leave this place and never return."

Dion froze for a moment before swallowing his tears, trying to hold himself together despite the burning pain inside him. Then, amidst all this sorrow, he smiled faintly… as if he had found something familiar within the chaos.

Raymond remained silent, staring into the emptiness before him. Then, he shifted his gaze back to his brother…

Raymond: "So… how did she die?"

Dion's face tensed for a moment, as if the very words were choking him. He didn't know how to respond, so he turned toward Talia, who was standing behind Raymond. She shook her head in refusal, her eyes filled with deep worry, silently pleading with him not to speak.

Dion hesitated, his voice breaking as he spoke.

Dion: "I... I don't know. We entered her chamber and found her lying on the floor... and... and... the blood…"

Raymond closed his eyes for a moment, unwilling to hear more.

Raymond: "Alright, I understand."

The three of them moved together toward the interior of the mansion, but Dion suddenly stopped, his face pale and tense.

Dion: "But… there's something you need to see… before we go to the funeral."

They ascended the stairs together to the upper floor, where Duke Vanheim's chamber was located. They paused at the door for a moment, the silence around them growing heavier, before Dion reached out and slowly pushed the door open.

The room was in complete disarray. Burned walls, overturned furniture, and torn curtains... it was as if a storm had torn through the place. In the dark corner of the room, Duke Blatir Vanheim sat on the floor, his hands covering his face, his body trembling unnaturally. He was muttering incomprehensible words, whispering, then suddenly screaming, as if he were chasing ghosts only he could see.

Dion, in a hushed voice, his eyes lost in the scene before him: "He's been like this since… since she died."

Raymond's eyes narrowed, unable to comprehend what he was witnessing, while Talia averted her gaze as if she couldn't bear to face the sight.

Raymond stepped forward to the center of the room, his strides quiet yet heavy.

Raymond, his voice low but as sharp as a blade: "What are you doing…?"

His voice struck Blatir's mind like a slap, an irritating hum amid the chaos of his shattered thoughts. The man lifted his trembling eyes, meeting the cold, piercing gaze of his eldest son... a stare so intense it felt as if it were pulling his soul from deep within.

In a sudden fit of rage, Blatir grabbed a glass beside him and hurled it violently toward Raymond, his voice laced with madness.

Blatir: Get out!!! What is a stray like you doing here!!? You insolent wretch!! Did you come too late?!!... This is all because of you!!!

His voice was filled with hysteria, veins bulging at his neck as if something inside him was burning.

Blatir, his voice trembling but soaked in fury: "She asked about you every day! She never stopped talking about you! Even in her final nights, she couldn't rest, she couldn't sleep… Where were you when she was bedridden?!! Where were you when she collapsed before me every night?!!"

Raymond stood motionless, his expression unchanging, even as his father's words pierced through his chest like knives. He did not flinch. He did not retreat.

Raymond: "I was exiled."

A heavy silence fell over the room, as if time had frozen for a moment.

Raymond, with deadly calm: "I don't even know if you were aware of it… But I came. Many times. I brought medicine and food and stood at the gates of this cursed estate… But your guards stopped me every time. I wasn't even allowed to see her shadow. I would leave the supplies and walk away… without knowing if they ever reached her."

There was no response. Only Blatir's ragged breaths and the sound of his trembling as he stared at his son as if he didn't recognize him. Then, in a fit of insanity, he began screaming and raving, hurling anything within his reach at Raymond while shouting.

Blatir: Liar!!! Get out!! Get out of here!!! GET OUT!!!

Raymond did not move. He did not waver. He stood his ground even as objects shattered around him. Then, without saying another word, he turned and walked away at a slow, steady pace.

The moment Dion shut the door behind them, Blatir's screams and incoherent mutterings echoed from within… a blend of pain and madness that lingered with them long after they had left.

After hours of silent travel, the convoy moved through vast lands in horse-drawn carriages, the only sound breaking the stillness being the rhythmic clatter of hooves. The carriage carrying their mother's shroud followed behind, while Raymond, Dion, and Talia rode in the front carriage. A somber quiet and deep unease settled between them as they approached the place where they would bid their final farewell.

As they neared the cliffside overlooking a deep valley reflecting the calm blue sea, the gathering of noble families appeared in the distance. The carriages came to a halt, aligning with the assembled clans and distinguished figures.

Raymond was the first to step down from the lead carriage, walking forward without glancing at the expectant faces around him. He knew this was not the time for such things.

While Talia and Dion greeted the attendees, Raymond continued forward, indifferent to everything around him. As he approached where King Irvin and Lucas Nightover awaited, he noticed the whispers among the noble families, the exchanged glances filled with intrigue. When he finally reached the king, he halted and bowed slowly, the gesture marked by an unmistakable solemnity.

Irvin, his voice heavy with sorrow: "I share in your grief, Raymond. No one can truly understand your loss."

Raymond, his voice steady: "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Then, his gaze shifted to Lucas, who stood beside the king, watching him with enigmatic eyes.

Lucas, quietly: "I know it's difficult… I'm sorry for your loss, son."

Raymond lowered his head slightly, avoiding direct eye contact, then spoke in a faint, nearly inaudible voice.

Raymond: "Thank you… Duke Nightover."

Lucas, unexpectedly: "Did your father not attend?"

Raymond took a deep breath, pausing for a moment before raising his head and speaking with profound sorrow.

Raymond: "No… He's not well."

Lucas studied him for a moment, running a hand over his chin as he hummed in thought, then spoke with sincere concern.

Lucas: "He needs someone by his side… Don't forget that."

Raymond pondered his words for a moment, shedding some of his burdens, but before he could dwell on it further, he turned to continue walking. However, a sudden voice...

"Your Majesty"...

caught his attention, making him turn quickly to witness something unusual.

It was Royal Guard Darian, who was supposed to be in the king's service, kneeling before Lucas. Lucas placed a gentle hand on the guard's shoulder and spoke in a quiet voice.

Lucas: Rise, Sir Darian.

Darian stood and walked beside Lucas, engaging in a private conversation away from the crowd's view, leaving Raymond deep in thought. He couldn't fully grasp the significance of the moment, but a strange realization began to take shape in his mind. Five years had passed since King Irvin's rule, yet there was more to the picture than met the eye.

Raymond's gaze drifted back to the scene before him, and he continued walking toward the burial site. The land there was green, covered with vibrant wildflowers, yet the specific spot chosen for the grave was different. The soil was dry, devoid of any growth, as if it had been prepared for this purpose alone.