Sole Survivor of a Generation

As Lady Gracelynn Sachar stepped into the grand entrance hall of the castle, the sharp click of her heels echoed against the gleaming marble floors. The expansive space exuded majesty, with towering arched ceilings that seemed to stretch toward the heavens. Sunlight streamed through tall stained-glass windows, casting intricate patterns of colour across the floor. The cool air carried the subtle scent of fresh blooms from the nearby gardens, adding a touch of natural elegance to the hall’s grandeur.

Lady Sachar moved with purpose and authority, a commanding presence that left no room for nonsense. Her stern expression and immaculate appearance underscored her disciplined nature. The sharp arch of her eyebrows above almond-shaped eyes gave her an air of keen perception, as if nothing could escape her scrutiny. Her bold red lipstick contrasted sharply with her tightly pulled-back brown hair, and the dark red hat perched atop her head matched her long-sleeved, floor-length sheath dress, which was elegantly tailored to flatter her slim figure. A golden belt cinched her waist, adding a touch of sophistication, while large gold chandelier earrings swayed lightly with each step, catching the sunlight and sparkling. The crowning piece of her outfit was the large golden sun pendant that hung from a thick chain around her neck, the proud symbol of her esteemed family.

The Sachar family, one of the Twelve Vassal Houses of the Archipelago, was renowned for their unwavering commitment to preserving history and fostering knowledge. As educators, historians, and archivists, their influence was deeply woven into the fabric of society. They played a crucial role in shaping future leaders, ensuring that the lessons of the past were not lost to time. Their public libraries throughout the Archipelago overflowed with ancient texts, scrolls, and artefacts, making knowledge accessible to the general public—a rare and valuable resource in a world where information was often a privilege of the elite. Despite their invaluable contributions, the Sachars were often under-appreciated, with some viewing their dedication to tradition as a hindrance to progress.

As Lady Sachar approached, her gaze settled on Valeryon and Laurel, who were waiting for her arrival. Valeryon stood straight and poised, her figure framed by a shoulder-length iridescent black veil that draped gracefully around her. The veil, a symbol of her royal status, fluttered slightly in the gentle breeze that wafted through the hall. From her peripheral vision, she could see Laurel shifting from foot to foot, his usual playfulness subdued in the presence of the imposing governess.

“Lady Gracelynn Sachar greets Her Highness, Crown Princess Valeryon the Second,” Lady Sachar announced, executing a deep precise bow. Her dark red hat tilted slightly as she bowed, a small but calculated movement that did not disturb the perfect alignment of her attire.

“Well met, Lady Sachar,” Valeryon replied, her tone steady and imbued with the authority expected of her station. Valeryon made a mental note to thank Lady Daphne later for her persistence in making sure that Valeryon had at least this aspect of courtesy mastered.

Lady Sachar straightened, her eyes shifting to Laurel, who stood a step behind Valeryon. He returned her gaze with a perfunctory smile and a bow so sloppy it bordered on offensive. Valeryon, however, thought he did a great job, considering he probably had never been required to follow such etiquette before. To her, Laurel was simply adjusting to the customs of this new world, and she admired his efforts.

Silence hung in the air for a brief moment, a pause that was usually filled with a verbal greeting. But when none came from Laurel, Lady Sachar proceeded as if nothing was amiss.

“Well met, heir Laurel Vesalius. Her Highness and yourself may address me as Governess Sachar,” Lady Sachar stated, her tone firm yet cordial. “I will be responsible for your education in the subjects of etiquette, dance, art, music, and history. We will delve beyond this scope if necessary, but these will be our focus for now.”

“Of course, Governess Sachar,” Valeryon replied, suppressing a sigh.

Valeryon felt apprehensive about starting her lessons again. Memories of the agonizing education she endured in the Trial Grounds haunted her—each recollection a ghostly echo of pain and torment. After six long years away from that relentless environment, the prospect of returning to structured learning felt suffocating. Nevertheless, she was determined to learn and excel in her studies as mastering these subjects would better prepare her for her future responsibilities. The Trial Grounds had taught her resilience, but this world required more than just survival skills.

She glanced at Laurel, subconsciously seeking reassurance in his familiar presence. She found comfort in his proximity, in the warmth of the bright smile he directed her way when he noticed her attention on him. She exhaled slowly, the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding escaping in a rush.

In the weeks that followed, Valeryon found her lessons with Governess Sachar to be a breath of fresh air, a welcome change from the stifling atmosphere of the Trial Grounds. Where once she had faced the sterile coldness of endless drills and the gnawing fear of failure, now she was embraced by a structured yet flowing curriculum that encouraged discussion and exploration. This new approach was a radical departure from the rote memorisation and solitary learning she had come to know. It felt almost revolutionary.

Governess Sachar was a refreshing presence, instilling a sense of curiosity that Valeryon had thought long lost. The lessons were interactive, fostering a spirit of inquiry rather than one of obedience. To Valeryon’s surprise, breaks were an integral part of the schedule—twenty minutes of respite for every hour of study. This newfound freedom felt luxurious. Laurel took full advantage of these breaks, darting off for a quick drink or a brief walk down the hallway. “Five minutes,” he would call back to her, flashing a reassuring grin that made her feel as if her well-being was his highest priority. And just as he said, right as the last minute was about to end, he would return to his seat beside her and spend the rest of the break taking a nap with his legs up on the table and leaning back on his chair.

Despite her growing comfort with the lessons, Valeryon often remained seated, lost in her notes out of sheer habit, still haunted by the rhythm of her old routine. Governess Sachar noticed her hesitance and would gently nudge her, urging, “Take a moment to enjoy the gardens.” At first, Valeryon resisted, feeling awkward about stepping away from her work, but Laurel’s presence beside her made it easier, his cool hand gripping hers securely and pulling her along to show her his favourite spots to stroll through or relax in. With each passing day, she found herself appreciating these interludes—the vibrant colours of the flowers, the soothing sound of water gently lapping against the lake’s edge, and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.

The pacing of her studies was equally refreshing. Weeks stretched between lessons and assessments, granting Valeryon ample time to absorb and consolidate what she had learned. Gone were the fears of death and humiliation that had shadowed her in the Trial Grounds. Here, she felt secure enough to truly explore her thoughts and feelings without the threat of violence or failure looming over her.

As Valeryon reclined beneath the sprawling branches of a massive weeping willow, the gentle sway of the leaves created a serene backdrop for her conversation with Laurel. He sprawled comfortably on the grass, his head nestled in her lap, eyes squinting against the sun's rays filtering through the foliage. Today, his playful demeanour felt subdued, casting a shadow over his usually bright face.

“She’s awful, Val!” he exclaimed, his voice breaking the tranquil air. “I just don’t understand. Why, in the Void, do we need to waste time learning irrelevant things that have nothing to do with our missions? I’m sick and tired of waking up so early to attend class!” His dramatic flair made Valeryon stifle a laugh, though she felt a pang of empathy for his frustrations.

“Laurel, I think your dislike for Governess Sachar is a bit misguided. She’s just doing her job. These lessons will help us adapt to our life here. One of our missions requires us to survive in this world until old age, so learning the information we need to navigate our roles is advantageous.”

“And in what world have you heard about picking the right salad fork saving anyone’s life?” He scoffed, folding his arms dramatically. Then, his expression softened. “I see your point, my dear Val. As usual, you’re right.” A playful glimmer returned to his eyes as he poked her cheek through her veil. “You must really like Governess Sachar if you’re defending her. This is the most I’ve heard you speak, and it’s for someone else. It makes me a little upset, Val.”

“Stop teasing,” she huffed, swatting his hand away.

“Val, I’m not teasing! It’s genuinely upsetting. Who wants to hear their dearest defending the person they detest?” he countered, pretending to clutch his heart in mock pain.

“Do you really detest Governess Sachar?” Valeryon asked, genuinely curious.

Laurel sighed, accurately reaching to pinch the tip of her nose. “Did you even listen to what I said?—Never mind, I can wait.— You’re right. I might be directing my frustrations at the wrong person. I’m just tired of being treated like a child. Regardless of how I look, I am a tw—” He coughed, clutching at his throat. “Damn, I hate that thing. Fine! I am ‘mature’ for my age.”

“I understand,” Valeryon replied, her tone steady and soothing. “But given how long it’s been, the adjustment period will likely end when we begin our magical education.”

“You think it’ll take that long? That’s another six years away!” His eyes widened with disbelief, reflecting a mixture of annoyance and apprehension.

Valeryon placed her hand over his, rubbing her thumb gently across his knuckles. They both felt the weight of the magical ban that limited their discussions about their pasts. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to linger, a constant reminder of the barriers in their lives. He interlocked their fingers, clutching them close to his chest, frustration etching lines on his freckled face. “It’s so frustrating not knowing what we’re supposed to be doing here, Val. The Celestial Receiver is inactive, and what even is an ‘adjustment period’? Why weren’t we told about it before we came here? How long is it supposed to last? They told us to check for updates regularly, but how can we do that if we can’t even turn it on? Honestly, at least Mission Central could give us a timeline!”

“I agree,” Valeryon replied, her voice steady as she continued to offer him comfort. “But if I’m right, there must be a reason for this long adjustment period. We should take advantage of our time to learn as much as we can. The main missions require us to graduate from school and live to old age, but at the end of the day, they must be main missions for a reason. I don’t think this world is as simple as it seems.”

Laurel pursed his lips, contemplating her words. “I never thought of it that way. That’s an excellent point, Val. If those are the main missions, there’s no way it’ll be easy to complete.

As they spoke, Valeryon reached into her pocket, retrieving her treasured pocket watch—a stunning gold piece engraved with the Valeryon coat of arms. The phoenix in mid-flight, clutching a branch of blooming asphodel, glimmered in the sunlight, its craftsmanship a testament to Laurel's skill. He had created it for her fifth birthday after noticing her frustration with the castle's lack of portable timekeeping. She cherished not only the beauty of the watch but also the engraved message inside: “To my dearest Val, made with the utmost care and love, Laurel.”

Realising their break was nearing its end, Valeryon nudged Laurel gently. “We should head back,” she said, a hint of reluctance in her voice. They stood and made their way back to the classroom, where Governess Sachar awaited them.

The lesson unfolded as usual, but at its conclusion, Governess Sachar asked them to stay a little longer. “Your Highness, and heir Vesalius, I have been your teacher for three months now, and I have made some observations. However, before I share my thoughts, I want to hear your opinion first. Have you found my lessons boring or not challenging enough?”

“Yes! The lessons are incredibly boring!” Laurel’s candidness surprised Valeryon, yet Governess Sachar only nodded thoughtfully, her expression unperturbed.

“Then I believe joining the Academy of Standardised Education would benefit you greatly. It will provide you with the opportunity to socialise with others your age and learn a wider range of subjects. Once you start attending, we can schedule our lessons around your academy schedule.”

As the governess continued, Valeryon noticed a change in Laurel’s demeanour. His smile faded, morphing into an expression that looked simultaneously horrified and regretful frown of regret. Unable to contain herself, she huffed in amusement.

Laurel turned sharply to her, his frown deepening. “You’re laughing at me,” he accused in a whispered hiss.

“No,” she replied, though the corners of her lips were already curving up, betraying her amusement.

“Yes, you definitely are, you liar. Whatever, laugh it up. I should have kept my mouth shut. I can’t believe I got us signed up for even more lessons!”

“Even if you hadn’t, I probably would have said something similar. But Governess Sachar likely had already made up her mind. Given our young age, it’s unlikely she would take our words seriously if they contradicted her observations.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t make me feel any better,” he grumbled, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“Heir Vesalius, was there something you wished to share with me?” Governess Sachar’s sharp voice sliced through their lighthearted banter, instantly straightening their postures.

“No, Governess Sachar,” Laurel replied quickly.

“I see. Well, that is all I wished to say; you may leave. I will discuss this matter further with Lady Vesalius and determine the best date to enrol you in the Academy.”

At those words, Laurel sprang to his feet, pulling Valeryon up beside him. “Come on, Val. Let’s go!”

Valeryon sighed in resignation, realising her hopes of spending the afternoon in the library with a book were dashed. As they walked away, she braced herself for the long rant she knew would follow.