Sustaining The King's Life 55 Journey To Magierstad

"Magierstadt's exam will be in a week," Orwell says. The early morning breeze of the oceanwater was evident on the palm trees swaying and dancing. The vivid sea was sparkling with the sun's rays like patches of small sunlight etched on the clear-blue waters. The s.h.i.+p they were boarding in was embedded with the Feuerlon emblem, a hawk that is in a fire, almost the same emblem as the royal family.

"It's the last exam." He exclaims. "Meaning you are a part of the last batch to take the test. I hope you reach the quota... even n.o.bles like daughters and sons of viscounts aren't accepted in the academy."

"The exam will test your cognitive ability and your magical potential." He adds.

Faustina nodded, walking just beside him as they reach the docks.

"Magierstadt's entrance exam is a test of strength. Physical, mental, and mystical strength." He says. "This means you have to engage in battle, Faustina."

"Is that all your things?" Orwell asks. He was smiling, holding a trunk in his hand. His staff was on his back, along with a backpack. He was wearing a beret, matching his clothes that were suited for travel. They were in the harbour, the s.h.i.+p ready for the journey to Magierstadt.

Faustina nodded, holding a trunk as well. They were now here at last: The Feuer Port.

Orwell extended his arms. "Do you get seasick, Faustina?"

"I don't know," Faustina answers as she accepts his hand. "I've never been in a s.h.i.+p before."

It has been few days ever since Faustina woke up in the Feuerlon manor. It astonished her. She knew every corner, every nook and crook; yet they felt foreign. It was as if her memories were not hers, and she was right. They weren't hers.

They are the memories of someone who never existed.

She also had memories that were almost real, such as that of a childhood memory. It was not clear—but it did not mean she did not understand the context the memory was sending. The memory was 'fuzzy' because it was a dream that manifested into the mind and created pathways. It is a fragmented dream created by magic, Orwell explains to her. A fragmented dream that becomes a 'memory.'

There are only few people in the Feuerlon household who is aware of this memory—of this "Dream"...

She herself and the duke.

Faustina closed her eyes as the sun's rays caught her eyes off guard. The breeze grew stronger, letting her hair be sail away, like ocean carrying the canoes further and further away.

"Sister," a familiar voice says softly, as a hat rested on top of Faustina's head. "Wear your hat. The wind will mess your hair up."

"Aah, finally we're on board." Says another familiar voice.

"Brothers!" Faustina says in surprise. "You're coming with me?"

"Sir Bethrion, your mother demands you down—"

Bethrion sighed, as he withdrew his hand from Faustina's hat. Faustina lifted her gaze slowly, and met Bethrion Feuerlon's emerald eyes.

"Brother Beth..."

He smiled. "Have a safe trip, baby sister."

Faustina smiled.

"Go down, beth." Lucas says. "You're not a part of the trip. Faustina's gonna go with me,"

"With US, Feuerlon lad." Orwell exclaims. "Where is your luggage?"

"S-sir... young miss..." A tired, panting lady murmurs, her voice almost inaudible because of her gasps. In her hand were two luggages. "Your stuffs..."

"Maddie!" Faustina utters in panic, running to help the hopeless maid.

"Don't run, baby sis~"
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Orwell stared at the young Lucas in apprehension through his spectacles. Sheilalev was indeed cunning. The king also played his cards quite well—it was not true that the memory of the d.u.c.h.ess was the one to be tweaked and altered; all the servants in the manor were in a tricky spell as well. Orwell stared at the mage before him, who was looking at Faustina and smiling. He remembered the day they were summoned in the castle for the conspiracy. It seemed like a distant past, even though it was just in a span of few days.

"Sir Orwell?" Lucas asks, noticing Orwell's gaze.

"Hm." Orwell smiles, and then pointed on the staff Lucas was holding. "Your staff is very well-built, Lucas Feuerlon. This tells your organized personality. It's a mystery tp see a sheer black staff possessing an emerald gem on top. It's a rare combination."

"I'm getting that comment a lot." Lucas grins, chuckling. "The rarity proved its st.u.r.diness too. It's been around for a while now; never needed a replacement. And... if it's about a mystery—Faustina's staff is more of a conundrum if you ask me."

Orwell nodded, as his gaze slowly s.h.i.+fted to the staff straped on Faustina's back. The fragment of a broken cyan gem he had never seen before.

"I wonder."