Sir Renquell looks at Jacob Cloud packing his bags from outside the building, hidden away.

Since the boy arrived in Clearwater just over a month ago, everything changed.

Clearwater will never be the same.

Felicia is very different from her sisters.

Under the tutelage of Jacob Cloud and Sir Greyson, she matured and became much wiser than she'd ever been.

Sir Renquell doesn't doubt for a second that Felicia will be an even better ruler than her father.

But even her father, in the wake of Jacob Cloud, decided to go through the fight with Veyl, an Ery who was supposed to become a Knight, became more sensible, and finally saw through all the schemes that had been hatched under his nose.

Before then, and from what Sir Renquell understands, since the day Lady Clearwater died, Lord Clearwater had ceased actively managing the city and relinquished control to the stewards, as well as to his two older daughters.

Now, however, that the Elves have already cut every commercial route with Clearwater and are trying to put pressure on his commercial partners, Lord Clearwater, a great seaman and a sharp noble when it comes to merchants, has once again started personally handling the business of his city.

* * *

So, what Jacob would soon find out is that the academy at Ytrial wasn't going to be anything like Clearwater. Veyl was talented, sure, but that was by Clearwater standards, and Clearwater was nothing but a minor player. They wouldn't send an Elf with actual talent here to waste their time.

In the hierarchy of Elf candidates for Ytrial, Veyl would barely rank as average. And to be honest, he could have easily been ranked below average and among the least talented elves.

So, Renquell saw Jacob put two letters in his pack. One was from Sir Greyson and one from himsElf.

With those, Jacob was almost guaranteed to be able to pass Ytrial's selection for this year's new candidates.

He would still have to go through a few tests, but the word of a Wandering Knight, albeit a disgraced one, carried a lot of weight.

So, Renquell wonders.

He wonders how Jacob is going to do once he reaches Ytrial.

Being a Knight, as he himself is the foremost example of, isn't just about power. If anything, politics is even more important than raw power.

Elves are just one of the many players at the Academy, which is, really, the center of the world.

Every so often, too, one of the three Great Races appears.

No one dares ask where they come from, and everyone pays great respect to them.

Sir Renquell is worried that whatever Jacob has stirred, whatever power he's been slowly soaking up, that allowed him to assume a vague infernal form, is going to make him a lot of enemies.

And if any Infernal is currently at the academy, that might even spell his doom.

The great races don't take kindly to any of them. And so, only if he's been in the enemy, with anything that needs to happen to one of them, most of their people would fall on whoever attempted harm on their kin.

But even Sir Renquell has to admit that he's not sure Jacob is going to stay at the bottom or the middle of the pack in Ytrial.

Even among the best, even among the great races—which Sir Renquell has met several times—Jacob Cloud doesn't feel like an ordinary contender.

* * *

I'm packing my last things when Felisia enters my room. I smile at her and say, "You ready to go?"

Felisia previously said that she would love to become a Knight and that it would be nice to start at the academy with someone I know. However, when I see the expression on her face, I can immediately tell that something is wrong.

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"What's going on?" I ask. She comes and sits on my bed.

She goes through seveal facial expressions, then, taking a deep breath and looking straight at me, announces, "I can't come."

"What?" I reply.

"I can't come, Jacob," she says.

I panic. I finally go to a chest in my room and take out the gift I had meant for her. It' a decently sized Skill Crystal—a Platinum one—in my hand.

"What is that?" she asks.

"Crystal Focus," I smile. "If you're worried about your talent, I'll just help you out. And after you get whatever evolution of Meditation you want, you can just learn this. This is like Meditation, but tenfold better—apparently this is an extremely rare variant that only appears in Elite Dungeons. It's invaluable, almost. And you can move while you use it."

"So this is what you got from the Boss that you kept hidden."

I nod.

"Yeah, I wanted it to be a gift for you. But you really helped me out here. You lent me money. You gave me an opportunity to enter Clearwater. And I lied to you. So this was a gift for you winning the Sky Hunt."

Felisia smiles sweetly, but she puts the Skill back in my hand.

"You will need this more than I do."

"It's a gift," I say, half-panicked.

"Then I gift it back to you." Felisia smiles.

There's a weird calm on her face, as if the brat I knew had disappeared entirely.

I don't see why she can't come.

"I warned about your talent. I told you that I—" But she interrupts me before I can finish.

"It's not about my talent, Jacob. I want to take care of Clearwater. My father has a lot to teach us. Especially now that the city is in a difficult position."

"Yeah," I say, "I apologize about that."

"No, don't. Or you'll think I'm becoming more independent."

"All right," I reply. "But can't you just do this after the—why can't you first become a Knight?"

"If I do," Felisia replies, "my sisters have all the time in the world to put their claws back into the seat. I must become stronger. I must do that on my own. I've relied too long on you. But I really wanted to go to the academy together," I say, scratching my head, embarrassed.

Felisia pats the bed beside her.

I obey and sit there.

"None of this could have been possible without you," she says, and takes my hands in hers, making me blush with them. "But I have duties to my people and to my city. I can't come with you. I would love nothing more," she says, and a few tears escape her eyes—just a few tears—and a sigh. "But I can't. I'm sorry, Jacob. I really can't."

Before I can say anything, she leans forward, softly kisses my cheek, and then swiftly gets up.

"I've arranged your transportation. It leaves tomorrow at dawn. I'll see you there." I can hear her sniffle and start to cry, but I just stay put on my bed, alone.

"I'll see you there. Thank you," I whisper back, taking the Skill Crystal in my lap.

* * *

The docks are noisy even at dawn. Dockhands haul crates onto the ship bound for Ytrial, and the tang of brine hangs in the air. I keep my head down, the red cloak Orvick's son once wore trailing behind me, catching the wind.

Sir Greyson waits near the gangplank, arms crossed and eyes scanning the crew. He glances at me, then flicks his eyes down to my boots.

"You look ridiculous in that thing," he says. "But you make it work. Don't start trouble on the ship, and don't mouth off to any officers."

I snort.

"I won't, I promise."

He grunts, then sticks out his hand.

"Keep your blade sharp, and don't get soft. Ytrial isn't Clearwater."

I shake his hand. His grip is as solid as ever.

Felisia stands a few paces off, with Lord Clearwater beside her, both of them as formal as if they were at court. Felisia steps forward and opens her palm. She holds a silver pin shaped like a wave crashing against a cliff.

"Lord Clearwater wanted you to have this," she says. "It's the city's insignia. He said he'd be lucky if you ever wanted to wear it."

Lord Clearwater nods once, arms folded over his chest.

"Wear it if you mean it. We didn't treat you right, Jacob Cloud. But I hope you'll forgive an old man's foolishness. The city stands behind that mark and so it would be our pride to see you depart with it."

I take the pin and fix it to my cloak.

"I'll wear it proudly."

Felisia studies my face, then hugs me hard.

"Don't get yourself killed," she mutters.

I nod and step back.

Lord Clearwater gives one last look, unreadable, and then says.

"Jacob Cloud."

"Milord?" I ask.

The man shakes his head.

"Nothing, I bet we'll be hearing more of you soon enough. Now go, the captain will take care of you until you reach Ytrial."

The first mate shouts for boarding. Greyson cuffs my shoulder. Felisia wipes her eyes.

I step onto the gangplank, the red cloak billowing, the silver pin bright against it. I don't look back. The ship creaks beneath my feet.

Clearwater shrinks behind me as the crew hauls anchor.

The sea opens ahead, and Ytrial waits on the far shore.

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