Two days passed in a flash. It was now time for Valtherion to leave Mograine County and head for the Capital.
He looked at the small cases filled with his personal belongings and sighed. It wasn't enough. He had wanted to take more, but he would be travelling through the Gate — a teleportation device linking the Empire's major cities. Emberfall, the city he would one day inherit, had one of its own.
Mograine County was not enormous; its population of eight million placed it firmly among the Empire's mid‑sized territories. A mid-sized county in this world was a country back on Earth. Emberfall itself was vast, but the county held four other cities and countless villages scattered across its lands. Rivers cut through fertile plains, farms stretched for miles, and the region was renowned throughout the Empire for its breathtaking Autumn season.
"Mother, please don't cry! The barons' and viscounts' children are here too — look!" Valtherion, dressed in formal black with golden embroidery forming a coiled serpent across his uniform, tried to comfort Morgana while waving politely at the gathered noble youths. He knew them all; he had grown up alongside them, and part of his duties as heir included soothing his mother's nerves.
"I will see you again in four years… you'll have grown so much by then! My precious son!" Morgana sniffled, her voice trembling as she fussed over him. "Please, do not impregnate any women there! Do not become a spendthrift! Send me letters every week! Stay close to your cousins — but be careful around Alexstraza; she is blooming into a beauty."
Dressed in a flowing yellow gown, Morgana cupped his cheek, smoothing stray strands of hair and adjusting the folds of his noble attire with meticulous care.
"Sigh...Mother, do not worry! I will study, paint and focus on training so I can become an Expert soon. I will not let you down, as well as father. Please do not worry about Dad or me; it is winter. The bugs will retreat, leaving only the orcs and rattakins. I will visit when it is summertime! Do not be sad, mother; it will all be alright, I promise!"
"Take this, son. Keep it well and do not lightly reveal that you own such a thing, lest it get stolen. You have around a thousand golden coins in it, the Mograine Family manuals and a weapon prepared for you by your dad. Mother will also send you clothes and gold monthly."
Stroking his hair for a final time, she gave him a ring and gently put it on his slim finger. Another treasure he had heard of only from Earth's novels. A spatial ring. Sadly, he had no system, but he was already used to his rebirth being completely...normal.
Their escorts, the elite guards, looked at him with pride and joy. The young master was leaving; that would make their days duller and lacking colour. Despite his nobility, ever since young, he has always been respectful, easy to talk to and laugh with. He would always treat them to a meal or make sure that they were hydrated during the hot days. It all made his reputation among the military raise since young age, especially when his father journeyed the County with him.
"Alright, mother. It is time for me to depart. Lads, keep up the front. I will be sending gifts whenever I can." Kissing his mother's hand and stroking the ring that she had given him, Valtherion felt warm, sad, and a bit of nostalgia had hit him already. Gone were the days when she would read him fairytales or teach him manners, rewarding him with treats.
Going towards the gate, as a priority persona, everyone had made way for him, causing him to stop and thank them.
"Are you ready, young lord?" An old man with a grown beard and a wizard hat stood by the gate, as he shook his hand.
Envious but also happy to see the old man, Valtherion shook his hand, greeted him and confirmed that he was ready. It was his first time, leaving him a bit intimidated. What if he got transported somewhere else, or back on Earth? In his previous life, he was a ragtag Painter with no parents or anything valuable to his name. His attachment to the lordy lifestyle, as well as his family, was mainly strong. It was everything to him. He knew how lucky he was, among trillions, to be born in a wealthy family that also had such a good mentality instead of blind arrogance.
The gate hummed as golden light shone between its frames. With a nod, the mage beckoned him to go.
Taking a look at his mother's teary eyes, as well as the guards who looked emotional as well, he waved, bowed for one last time and passed through the golden light.
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Opening his eyes, Valtherion felt the wind brush against his face. It carried the scent of fresh grass mixed with the sharp breath of the ocean. Seagulls cried overhead, their calls cutting through the noise of people speaking, shouting, and greeting one another. He had arrived — precisely inside a reception tent marked with the Garcia crest: a silver dragon clutching a shield.
"Greetings. May I confirm that this is Young Master Mograine, heir to Mograine County and the City of Emberfall, descendant of the Great Arathor, son of Morgana Garcia and Louis Mograine?"
A middle‑aged man in a black suit stood before him. He was around one meter eighty, with neatly combed black hair, a clean‑shaven face, and a monocle resting over his left eye. A polished watch gleamed at his wrist, and immaculate white gloves covered his hands.
Valtherion offered a polite smile and extended his hand. "It is I, Valtherion Mograine. And you are?"
"Welcome to Targoth," the man replied, bowing as he accepted the handshake. "My name is Albert. I serve the Garcia family and will act as your personal butler during your stay in the Capital. Your carriage awaits. A room has already been prepared for you in the Garcia Mansion. Your grandfather, uncles, and aunts have even left gifts in anticipation of your arrival. Shall we depart, young master?"
Albert guided him out of the crowded field of tents, where arrival after arrival poured through the Gate. Soon they reached a second clearing — a broad, open field with a two‑carriage‑wide road and dozens of carriages waiting in orderly rows.
Valtherion boarded one alongside Albert. He lifted the curtain and hooked it open, eager to see the Capital — the shore, the streets, anything that differed from Emberfall. Albert, noticing the young master's curiosity, opened his own curtain as well, observing Valtherion quietly.
"Thank you," Valtherion said, remembering his manners. Albert was clearly a man of standing within the Garcia household. The Garcias were dukes — meaning their family possessed one or more Masters or Archwizards. Such individuals were the backbone of the Empire, the pillars upon which every nation relied. Rare, powerful, and indispensable.
Masters represented the third rank of the Energy Path — the warrior's path, the very path Valtherion would have to walk. Archmages, on the other hand, were the third rank of the Mana Path. Mages were far rarer, and thus far more valuable.
Soon, I will be a Novice… Father is an Expert, while Grandfather Garcia is already a Master. Pity that Father and I are the only Mograine left. The family records spoke of Uncle Thomas — the most talented prodigy of the East, Louis Mograine's elder brother. But they had all perished during the Great Fall.
The Great Fall — the darkest moment in Salerion's history. The Great Wall had been breached, and hordes of monsters flooded through, razing everything in their path, enslaving and slaughtering as they caught every lord — even the Emperor — unprepared.
Back then, the Mograine family had been large. But they died fighting beside Duke Garcia. Arathor Mograine, Valtherion's grandfather, fell protecting the Duke, while his sons died holding the rear. Only Louis survived. It was said the Duke dragged him from the battlefield in tears, saving the bloodline of his dearest friend. After burying his own son and the Mograine family, he married his most precious daughter to Louis.
It was one of many tragic battles, but it became legendary because, thanks to it, every border County and Duchy managed to rebuild a new wall to hold the monstrosities back. Land was lost, lives were lost — but the Empire's core endured. Barely eighteen years had passed since then, and now the Empire was recovering, with military advancement as its highest priority. Emperor Alexander had taken the throne, ushering in a new era after his predecessor's failure shook the entire continent.