Sole Survivor of a Generation

Valeryon stood in her study, the scent of parchment mingling with the aromatic flowers in full bloom from the garden below carried by the breeze drifting through the open window. The morning sunlight streamed through the thin, gossamer curtains, casting a dappled glow that played across the organised chaos within. Books, neatly stacked in towering piles, formed small fortresses alongside polished crystals, pristine uniforms, cauldrons, ladles and vials of rare herbs—each item meticulously sorted in preparation for her upcoming departure to Forester Academy. The study had become a makeshift storage space to keep her bedroom uncluttered amid the whirlwind of preparations.

Laurel was currently at the Crafting Hall working on his final project and spending time with friends, making the most of the last few months before their Main Mission officially began. His absence felt more palpable than she expected. She was used to the quiet rustle of his clothing, the way his lavender scent lingered in the air, and the teasing quips that pulled her from her reverie when she became too absorbed in her tasks. Without him, the room felt simultaneously unsettling and soothing.

An unfamiliar quiet that wrapped around her like a familiar shroud, as she reviewed the final item on her checklist, quill poised to mark it off.

A series of firm knocks echoed through the chamber, piercing the tranquil atmosphere. Valeryon's grip tightened on the quill, the ink bleeding across the parchment in a messy streak. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she cast a sharp glance at the double doors. With a deliberate breath, she let the tension slip from her shoulders before speaking. "Enter."

The heavy double doors swung open with a soft creak, and Heiress Elora Vesalius stepped inside.

Her plain features were elevated by the elegance of her attire. The high-collared tunic of deep midnight blue silk, with sleeves that flared elegantly at the wrists, was cinched at her waist by a braided silver belt. A matching skirt brushed the tops of her polished boots, and a beaded silver hairband kept her short brown hair neatly in place. Her ears bore two small silver bead studs. The ensemble was a noticeable departure from the utilitarian garb Elora had favoured when they first met.

Elora bowed, the motion fluid and practiced, lacking the stiffness of before. "Greetings, Your Highness."

"Heiress Elora," Valeryon greeted, setting her ink-stained parchment aside. "I wasn't expecting you today. Isn't this your designated rest day?"

Elora's fingers tightened around the handle of the briefcase she carried, her knuckles paling against the dark leather. "It is, Your Highness. However, I deemed it wise to use my time to familiarise myself further with the Chamberlain's Office and begin reorganising the records." She paused, as if choosing her words carefully. "Idle hours are opportunities wasted."

Valeryon's eyes narrowed. "Indeed." Her gaze shifted to the briefcase in Elora's grip. "And the briefcase?"

Elora's posture straightened. "It is a personal project—a portable living space. I anticipated the task might extend into the night, and I prepared for the possibility of remaining on site." She hesitated, the silence hanging briefly between them before she added, "If Your Highness permits, I could demonstrate its features."

Valeryon inclined her head slightly. "Very well. Proceed."

Elora moved with practiced efficiency, setting the briefcase down with a soft thud. She knelt beside it, her fingers brushing over the worn leather. The case was dark and weathered, polished to a subtle sheen. Steel-reinforced corners bore the marks of frequent use, and Elora's name was engraved in delicate script beneath the large Vesalius crest—a winged key—embossed at the centre. As she pressed a raised symbol resembling a quill, the latches clicked open. The lid lifted, releasing a soft, pulsating glow from within.

Elora rose, a tenuous smile crossing her face as she gestured. "As you can see, it serves as more than just storage space. Initially, it was meant for study, but I've since expanded its capabilities. It now includes a living area, a workshop, and a small kitchen. It allows me to work and rest comfortably, regardless of location."

Valeryon stepped closer, the glow making the iridescent black fabric of her veil shimmer brighter. She studied the briefcase's interior before giving a curt nod."Show me."

Elora nodded, her posture upright as she extended her hand. "If you would, Your Highness."

Valeryon hesitated briefly before taking it, feeling the warmth of Elora's touch. The moment she stepped into the glow, a wave of disorientation surged through her—like falling from a great height. When her feet touched solid ground again, the vertigo faded, and her surroundings sharpened into focus.

The space was vast, with towering shelves stretching from floor to ceiling, each crammed with ancient tomes, scrolls, and artefacts. The air was heavy with the scent of sandalwood, mingling with the familiar aroma of ink and parchment. Enchanted candles floated above, their soft, honeyed glow casting shadows that danced along the polished wooden floors. At the center of the room stood an imposing desk made of dark mahogany, its surface covered with a controlled chaos of quills, ink pots, and open books filled with neat, precise writing that Valeryon instantly recognised as Elora's.

"This is the first compartment—my personal study," Elora explained. "I use it for record-keeping, drafting reports, and research."

Valeryon's eyes—one peridot green, the other cerise pink—methodically swept the room. Her gaze lingered on the spines of the books, most focused on runic and dimensional magic, subjects perfectly aligned with Elora's known specialisations. She then noted the runic arrays carved along the edges of the shelves, their glowing lines intertwining like vines weaving through wood.

Elora moved toward a door and gestured to a small panel etched with raised symbols: a hammer, a bed, and a key. "This panel controls access between compartments. The key symbol exits the briefcase." She pressed the bed symbol, and the door shimmered, the runes lighting up in delicate spirals before the wood slid aside to reveal the next compartment.

The living quarters were modest yet inviting. A narrow bed, draped in a deep green quilt, was tucked against the wall, its headboard carved with intricate floral patterns that seemed to shift and bloom beneath the soft, amber glow of a brass oil lamp. A small wardrobe stood to one side, and on the opposite wall, a cozy reading nook filled with plush cushions beckoned. Above the bed hung a woven tapestry depicting a forest, its leaves shimmering in emerald and gold threads as they caught the light. In one corner, an ensuite bathroom gleamed with polished brass fixtures, and the porcelain basin beneath an elegantly curved tap glinted in the candlelight.

"It's small but functional," Elora said, a faint flush creeping across her cheeks under Valeryon's scrutiny. "I designed it with minimalism in mind—it was all I could manage while I was a student at Forester Academy. Especially since most of my budget went into the study and the workshop."

There were two doors in the bedroom. The first was the one they originally came through and the second led to the kitchen, a compact yet meticulously organised space. An iron stove dominated one wall, and beside it, a small hearth crackled beneath a blackened kettle. Wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of herbs and spices, each labeled in Elora's neat handwriting. Copper pots and pans hung from hooks above a sturdy wooden table, and a large stone basin with a hand-pump faucet occupied the island at the centre of the room. A translucent blue box etched with intricate runes emitted a faint hum in the corner.

"Since an ice house is impractical in this space, I created a smaller, portable version," Elora explained, tapping the device. "I call it the cooling box. It preserves perishables and saves me the trouble of frequent restocking."

The concept of cool storage technology was still in its infancy in this world, so Valeryon found it interesting to see an earlier derivative of it being developed

The third and final compartment was accessed by Elora tapping the hammer symbol on the panel, revealing her workshop. Fold-out workbenches lined the walls, and enchanted, transparent drawers glowed softly, showcasing tools and materials: crystal vials filled with alchemical reagents, and neatly arranged chisels for rune carving. Blueprints covered the far wall, detailing various inventions including but not limited to briefcases and cooling boxes, alongside intricate rune sequences, each carefully annotated. In the centre of the room, a massive half-finished rune array sprawled across a large worktable.

"This is where I work on my projects and rune experiments," Elora said, her eyes bright with enthusiasm as she gestured around. "It's where I refine my craft."

Valeryon's gaze lingered on the blueprints. "Is this briefcase the only one of its kind, or have you made others?"

Elora hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I've crafted a few—mostly for close friends upon request." Her voice softened, a hint of vulnerability creeping in. "If Your Highness is interested, I would be honoured to create one for you."

Valeryon tilted her head slightly, considering the offer. "How long would it take?"

Elora tapped lightly against the edge of the workbench, thoughtful. "A standard model takes about two weeks, but a customised version—one with all the specifications you might want—could take a few months, depending on the complexity."

Valeryon's brow furrowed. Beltane was beginning, and her studies wouldn't start until Mabon—three months away. "That should suffice. I will commission one."

Elora's shoulders relaxed, and a rare bright smile broke across her face. "I promise it will be my best work yet, Your Highness."

Elora's excitement was palpable as she eagerly cleared a space on the workbench, inviting Valeryon to sit beside her. They began drafting the briefcase's specifications. Elora's pencil moved with deft precision as she sketched, keeping pace with Valeryon's increasingly elaborate requests.

Valeryon's list was ambitious: she wanted a study and living space, a greenhouse with climate control, an alchemy lab with proper ventilation, a temperature-controlled pool, and a loom and a harp within the greenhouse, along with ample storage.

Elora paused when Valeryon mentioned what she wanted within the greenhouse, her pencil hovering mid-air as she glanced up. "Your Highness, for full disclosure, I must admit, some of these features are… outside my usual expertise. But I'm confident I can make them work."

Valeryon's lips curled slightly. "I would not ask if I did not think you were capable of doing so. I trust you have had the foresight to patent your creations, Heiress Elora? It would be a disservice to your talent otherwise."

Elora straightened, "Yes, of course. Thank you for your high regard, Your Highness."

"You will have access to the Royal treasury for any necessary funds," Valeryon continued. "Commission the furnishings from the Crafting Hall. The colour scheme should be light—nothing overly bold. Elegance and comfort are my only requirements. Beyond that, you have free rein."

"I won't disappoint, Your Highness," Elora replied, earnest.

Once they finalised the details, they exited the briefcase. Elora closed it and secured its latches with a click. "I shall take my leave then, to get started on the project immediately. Wishing you a productive day, Your Highness." She bowed and stepped through the study's double doors.

Valeryon watched her go, her expression thoughtful. She realised she hadn't quite gotten the full reason for Elora's visit; they had been sidetracked by the briefcase almost immediately. But if it had been urgent, Elora would have insisted on addressing it—Valeryon was certain of that. From what she had observed, Elora was not one to overlook important matters.

Now alone, Valeryon decided to postpone sorting her study materials until the new briefcase was ready. Instead, she headed to the abandoned courtyard. Due to her previous handiwork, the place was now overgrown with vines and wild greenery; a tangled mess. Staff in hand, she prepared to reshape the chaos into something presentable.

As summer waned and Lammas came to a close, the briefcase was finally complete—three months after the project's start.

Valeryon sat in her study, flipping through a textbook on magical theory. Laurel lay beside her on the leather couch, his head resting on her lap as she absentmindedly ran her fingers through his hair. His steady breathing filled the room as he dozed.

A soft knock broke the silence. Valeryon's eyes lifted from the pages. "Enter."

Elora stepped in, briefcase in hand, and bowed. Valeryon nudged Laurel awake. He groaned, rubbing his eyes before sitting up, his gaze sharp as it landed on Elora. Valeryon stood, and Laurel, still grumbling, stretched and rose following behind her.

"Couldn't you have waited a few more minutes?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Elora arched an eyebrow. "And keep Her Highness waiting? I think not, dear nephew." She set the briefcase on the desk, her thin lips curling. "Punctuality is a virtue."

Laurel rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Yeah, well, your 'virtue' can go—"

Valeryon tuned out the bickering, her attention drawn to the briefcase resting on the table.

Elora's craftsmanship was truly exceptional. The polished black leather was framed by steel-reinforced corners and intricate gold filigree that traced delicate, swirling patterns around the edges. Dominating the surface was the Valeryon sigil—a majestic phoenix in flight, clutching an asphodel branch. Tiny diamonds embedded in the design brought it to life: clear ones for the blossoms, brown for the branch, black for the claws, and vibrant shades of orange, yellow, and red for the fiery plumage of the phoenix. Valeryon's name, 'Valeryon II' was engraved in gold below it.

Above the sigil, a row of diamond icons marked each compartment: a quill for the study, a house for living quarters, a droplet for the pool, a rose for the greenhouse, and a star for the alchemy laboratory. Valeryon ran a gloved finger over each symbol, feeling the textured surface.

Suddenly, the Celestial Receiver on Valeryon's wrist flared to life, glowing a vibrant purple. A small holographic window appeared, hovering just above her wrist:

Special Item Acquired: 'Home Away from Home.'

Bind this item to your Inventory?

Accept — Reject

Valeryon frowned. The purple glow was usually reserved for Hidden Quests, but the lack of quest-related details was glaring. Was there another meaning for this colour when it came to items?

Valeryon's gaze returned to the briefcase on her desk. It was finely crafted, no doubt, but what made Mission Central classify it as a 'special item'?

She sighed. Speculating would be a fruitless endeavour without more information. With a decisive tap, she pressed 'Accept'. The screen flickered, then vanished, the receiver's light dimming back to blue.

Nothing happened.

The briefcase remained exactly where it was, undisturbed.

As Valeryon reached for her Celestial Interface to check for any updates, the sound of footsteps announced the arrival of Laurel and Elora. Their earlier squabble seemed resolved, though Laurel's lingering sulk was evident as he brushed past Elora and wrapped his arms around Valeryon's waist, resting his head on her shoulder.

"Val," he whined, voice dripping with faux despair. "Aunt Elora bullied me! Comfort me!"

Elora halted mid-step, almost rolling her eyes but stopping herself just in time. "What do you think, Your Highness?" she asked, folding her hands behind her back. "Shall we take a look inside?"

Caught between the two, Valeryon uncertainly patted Laurel's back hoping it was the right response. Then she turned to Elora. "Yes. Let's proceed," she replied.

Laurel lingered a moment longer before reluctantly pulling away. He let out a heavy sigh."I don't feel comforted at all," he grumbled, but the grin tugging at his lips betrayed his true feelings.

Valeryon huffed, unable to hide her amusement.

"Tsk. Laughing at me, are you?" Laurel feigned indignation, leaning in to pinch Valeryon's cheek through her veil. "Just wait until Aunt Elora starts bullying you. Then we'll see who you come running to for comfort." He paused for a beat, his smile faltering ever so slightly before returning with renewed vigour. "And just so we're clear, that better be me, Val."

Elora shook her head as she picked up the briefcase from the desk and set it on the ground, unlatched it with a soft click releasing a warm glow that illuminated the study.

With a flourish, Laurel extended his hand to Valeryon, guiding her toward the briefcase. As she stepped inside, Valeryon felt the familiar sensation of weightlessness envelop her, as if she were suspended in air. When her feet found solid ground again, the disorientation faded, revealing the elegant interior of a study.

High, bare bookshelves lined the walls. In the centre stood a grand desk, flanked by plush velvet armchairs in a soft cream hue. Sconces emitted a gentle golden light, creating a cozy ambiance.

After taking in the study, Valeryon turned to the panel of icons at the door. With a touch, it slid open, revealing the next compartment leading to her living quarters. This expansive area comprised a bedroom, bathroom, lounge, and kitchen.

The bedroom was dominated by an expansive canopy bed. The canopy, made from fine gossamer, drapes elegantly from the frame and cascades smoothly to the floor, forming soft folds. The bed is meticulously arranged with layers of rich fabrics—luxurious linen sheets beneath thick comforters, all tucked to precision. Atop them, a mountain of pillows is stacked in an orderly fashion, each in varying sizes but arranged symmetrically. The colour palette is subtle but refined—creamy whites, muted pastels, and gentle blush tones.

Adjoining the bedroom was a walk-in closet, each wall fitted with custom-built shelving, drawers, and compartments. Rows of hanging rods are evenly spaced, allowing garments to drape without wrinkles. Built-in drawers are deep, while the open shelves are perfectly sized for shoes, bags, or folded clothing. The layout is optimised to accommodate a vast wardrobe, providing ample room for all attire and accessories in an organised, easily accessible manner.

The ensuite bathroom is equally impressive, with walls adorned in intricate geometric tile-work that covers every surface. In one corner, a deep soaking tub carved from a single block of polished crystal dominates the space, its surface smooth and cool to the touch. Behind the tub, a feature wall of veined marble creates a striking contrast with the geometric tile-work. On the opposite wall, a long marble counter stretched across the room, equipped with a deep-set sink. Above it, a large mirror framed in ornate detail covers the length of the wall.

Exiting the bedroom through the door without selecting an icon from the panel led to a lounge area. Here, plush cream-coloured couches formed a welcoming circle around a low, polished table.

The kitchen, while similar in layout to Elora's, was significantly larger and equipped with state-of-the-art appliances. Valeryon was unfamiliar with many of the tools, but they appeared intuitive, a testament to the straightforward nature of technology in this era.

Satisfied with the state of things, Valeryon returned to the door and pressed the water drop icon on the panel. The door slid open, revealing an expansive pool area.

Framed by towering columns of white marble, each intricately carved with depictions of magical beasts, the space was both imposing and enchanting. Majestic griffins with outstretched wings, serpentine dragons coiling around their bases, and regal phoenixes poised as if ready to take flight adorned the columns. Water flowed gracefully from their mouths, cascading into elaborately designed basins below.

The floor, composed of large, polished marble tiles sparkled with fine streaks of gold veining that glistened in the light. At the centre of the room lay a shimmering pool, its surface reflecting hues of gold. Wide steps descended into the water, flanked by elegant railings on all sides, inviting visitors to immerse themselves in its crystalline depths.

"What do you think so far, Your Highness?" Elora asked, glancing at Valeryon with an expectant smile.

"You have certainly exceeded my expectations, Heiress Elora," she replied, genuinely impressed.

Elora looked quite pleased with the feedback. "I must confess, Your Highness, almost all the furnishings you have seen so far were created by your hus—" She paused, clearing her throat. "I mean my nephew. He insisted on making everything himself when I submitted my request at the Crafting Hall, and he refused any payment for his efforts."

Valeryon turned to Laurel, who stood nearby with his arms crossed, a flush creeping up to the roots of his hair. "Aunt Elora, I thought we agreed not to speak of it," he said through gritted teeth.

Elora raised an eyebrow. "I agreed to no such thing, dearest nephew."

Recalling their previous discussions regarding payment over the years, Valeryon held back the instinct to offer Laurel any. The last time she had tried, he had been genuinely upset, and her attempts to smooth things over had only earned her a very memorable scolding which she had no desire to repeat.

Instead, she extended her hands toward him, their fingers intertwining naturally. "Thank you, Laurel."

His expression softened as he leaned closer, pressing his forehead against hers. "It was my absolute pleasure, Val."

In that moment, Valeryon noticed how much Laurel had grown; he was slightly taller than her now. She remembered his towering form back in the Origin. If he continued to grow, he would certainly dominate the stature of anyone else in this era, where the average height for men was around 5'7". Thankfully, the grand architecture of this time period would accommodate him even at his original height.

Clearing her throat, Elora redirected their attention. "Shall we continue?"

They entered the alchemy laboratory next. There was not much to see here. Just walls lined with shelves filled with empty vials and jars, while brass instruments and glassware were neatly arranged on a side counter. A series of benches with different equipment ran across the space.

There next destination was the final compartment; the greenhouse. The ceiling arched high above, creating an airy atmosphere. Though no plants adorned the beds yet, but each plot was meticulously prepared for future flora. In the centre, a graceful fountain trickled gently, the sound fostering a serene ambiance. Adjacent to the fountain, a loom stood on one side, while a harp rested on the opposite side, just as Valeryon had requested. Further into the greenhouse, a cozy seating area adorned with delicate cushions invited relaxation.

Having seen everything, they exited the briefcase and returned to the castle study.

Valeryon settled into her high-backed chair in the study, Elora standing across from her, hands folded behind her back. On the desk lay a meticulously itemised expenditure report, each line accounting for precise amounts withdrawn, complete with detailed explanations for each expense. Valeryon knew that if she compared it with the treasury records, she would not find a single discrepancy.

Without a word, Valeryon drew a golden cheque from her desk drawer, writing an amount four times greater than Elora's documented expenses.

Elora's eyes widened as she read the figure. "Your Highness, this is far too much," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "My salary is already more than enough. Serving you is my highest honour; I couldn't accept this."

Valeryon remained undeterred. "Your salary covers your official duties. This" —she extended the cheque toward Elora—"is for the additional responsibilities you have undertaken."

Elora looked down, her expression unreadable. After a pause, her hands moved toward the cheque with reluctant acceptance, her fingers shaking slightly as she took it. "Thank you, Your Highness," she murmured, bowing deeply. "With your permission, I'll take my leave now."

Valeryon nodded. "Certainly."

Elora straightened. "Have a blessed day, Your Highness." She withdrew, closing the doors behind her.

Valeryon sighed softly, her gaze drifting to the piles of supplies that awaited sorting. Laurel who had been absent for the discussion between Valeryon and his aunt was already immersed in the task, sifting through stacks of items. She rose from her seat and approached him.

"Looks like we have our work cut out for us," he said, glancing up as she neared. His dimples deepened when he picked up a stack of notebooks and slid them neatly into the glowing opening of her briefcase. All items would stack into a temporary storage unit within the corresponding compartment for later sorting.

Valeryon smiled faintly. "Yes," she replied, and they set to work, methodically moving all items into the briefcase, and ensuring that they entered the correct compartment.

Once they had packed everything up, Valeryon and Laurel stepped into the briefcase to sort through the items properly. Books found their place on the study shelves, while equipment, crystals, and ingredients were arranged in the alchemy lab. Spare uniforms were hung neatly in the closet.

With Laurel's presence, the process felt effortless, and they finished much quicker than expected.

As they wrapped up, Valeryon's thoughts shifted to her next challenge: managing the demands of her hyper-metabolism. The thought of the looming, oversized meal was like a weight pressing on her shoulders. She took a steadying breath and extended her hand toward Laurel.

He took it without hesitation, his fingers cool against hers. Stepping closer, he stumbled, instinctively wrapping an arm around her for balance. His chin brushed her shoulder, and her pulse quickened at the unexpected closeness.

"Time for lunch?" he murmured.

Warmth crept into her cheeks. They had shared moments like this before—recently even, in front of Heiress Elora—but the quiet intimacy of their surroundings made this encounter feel… different.

"Val?" he prompted gently, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Hm? Yes. They should be ready to serve now," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Then we should go, yes?" He smiled into her shoulder, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver through her.

"Yes," she managed, surprised by the steadiness of her voice.

"Good." He smiled into her shoulder, his breath warm on her skin, sending a shiver through her. "Can't have my favourite person starving, can I?" He playfully pinched her nose, his lavender eyes crinkling as he laughed. "Let's go."

Valeryon nodded, her heart lifting as she grasped the handle of her briefcase with her other hand. Leading the way to the dining hall, she felt a lightness fill her chest, buoyed by Laurel's presence. With Laurel beside her, everything felt less daunting. And as they walked, she felt once again the quiet gratitude for the risk she'd taken in trusting him all those years ago.