The weather was warm and welcoming, unlike in the East, where it was winter. His clothing made him feel warm; however, he could not take it off as normal people did on Earth. Etiquette was important, and he was not even home yet.
"Young Master, it will take us an hour to arrive at the Mansion. Would you like some cold beverages?" Albert offered him some beverages; after all, it was warm all the time here in Targoth, while the young lad was coming from the east, a place with four seasons, the current one being winter. He was probably melting, and yes, indeed, he was.
"If it's not a bother to you, Albert, I would not mind a cool drink to go by the road." Smiling politely, Valtherion accepted the offer and saw how Albert called to one of the guards escorting their carriage. Soon, a goblet was presented to him with orange juice and ice.
Thankfully, Albert had taken his cases long ago, and they were stored carefully in the back of the carriage. The white horses gently strode all the way from the green fields to a side of the city, providing him with a beautiful view.
Targoth unfolded before him like a living tapestry of stone and light. Rows of tall, elegant buildings lined the streets, their facades carved with intricate motifs of dragons, laurels, and arcane sigils. Iron‑wrought balconies overlooked bustling avenues where nobles in tailored coats and ladies in flowing dresses strolled beneath gas‑lamps powered not by flame, but by soft blue mana crystals. Carriages rolled steadily along cobblestone roads, their wheels clattering in rhythm with the distant tolling of cathedral bells. The air smelled of sea‑salt and fresh bread, and everywhere he looked, people moved with purpose — merchants shouting prices, students rushing with books in hand, guards in polished breastplates directing traffic with crisp authority.
The Imperial Academy dominated the skyline like a palace of learning. Its marble towers rose high above the city, crowned with copper domes that gleamed under the sun. Bridges of white stone connected the towers, and banners bearing the Empire's crest fluttered proudly in the wind. Young men and women in dark uniforms crossed the academy grounds, some carrying spears or staves, others discussing magical theory or military strategy. The academy's great courtyard was alive with activity — instructors barking orders, novices practising formations, and mages weaving harmless sparks of mana into the air as part of their morning drills. It was a place where the Empire's future was shaped, where heirs of noble houses mingled with prodigies from distant provinces.
Beyond the academy stood the cathedrals — towering sanctuaries of faith and power. Their stained‑glass windows depicted ancient battles, saints, and legendary Masters who had defended humanity during the Great Fall. Choirs sang hymns that drifted through the streets like warm currents, blending with the chatter of the crowds. Pilgrims knelt on the cathedral steps, while clerics in silver robes moved gracefully among them, offering blessings. The city's heart pulsed with life: markets overflowing with spices and fabrics, children chasing each other around fountains, and scholars debating philosophy beneath shaded colonnades. Targoth was vast, vibrant, and impossibly alive — a world entirely different from Emberfall, yet equally breathtaking.
Far beyond the academy and the cathedral spires, the Imperial Palace rose over the horizon like a monument carved from another age. Its alabaster walls shimmered faintly with embedded mana veins, glowing softly beneath the afternoon sun. Dozens of slender towers reached skyward, crowned with golden caps that caught the light and scattered it across the city like falling stars. Wide terraces wrapped around the palace, each lined with marble statues of past emperors, legendary Masters, and Archmages who had shaped the Empire's fate. Even from a distance, Valtherion could see the grand colonnades and the sweeping gardens surrounding it — orchards, fountains, and crystalline ponds tended by hundreds of servants. Carriages moved steadily along the palace's outer boulevard, while guards in silver‑trimmed uniforms patrolled the gates with disciplined precision. The palace stood serene and untouchable, a symbol of authority and stability watching over Targoth like a silent guardian.
"Magnificent. Say, Albert, will I be able to use the carriage to tour the capital some time?" Unable to hold his curiosity, Valtherion had to ask. So many buildings which were the epitome of art, so many things he could capture in his mind and paint.
"But of course, young master. A carriage and a squad of twenty men and twenty maids will be available to you during the time of your stay. Just say the word, and you can explore as you wish."
"Thank you, Albert. May I ask, who else is living in the mansion? I heard I will be living with my cousins" Curious about the rest of his neighbours, Valtherion inquired politely. His mother had warned him about his cousin, Alexstraza, a budding beauty with a temper.
"Currently, only our young miss, Alex, is there. The rest of the younglings have all graduated and moved back to the Duchy. However, do not be disappointed, young master; our young lady is enough to liven up a whole mansion. On a side note, young master, you have an appointment tomorrow with Sir Luther.
Sir Luther is one of the Imperial Guards, a good friend of your grandfather, a peer of your father and one of the Emperor's Guards. He will be your personal trainer. It was supposed to be someone else; however, Sir Luther wanted to do it personally as he is a good friend of your father. You must be respectful; he is very important, and it is a great honour.
The rest of your tutors will be at the mansion as well; however, they will arrive in a week, giving you enough time to adapt to the Imperial Academy. " Albert took his time explaining, making Valtherion's facial expression worsen when it came to Luther.
"Is there something wrong, young master?" inquired Albert, looking a bit confused.
"I know of Sir Luther; I've heard of him. It is indeed...a grand honour. He is to soon have a child with one of the princesses and is expected to become a Master soon." sighing and covering his worries, Valtherion proceeded to gaze outside.
Of course he knew him. Ever since he was a baby, even if that was the only time he saw him. He seemed to be a crazy fellow, throwing him all around and playing with him, causing his mother, Morgana, a lot of worries; however, he was probably his father, Louis's, best friend. The worst part was that Luther would probably become his godfather, as per the agreement between him and Louis.
Louis came from a lowly family of Barons; however, through sheer talent, discipline and mainly military contributions, he rose his family to the rank of Count, married a princess and is now even a personal guard of Emperor Alexander.
The Salerios Empire worshipped only one god - The Goddess of Justice and Strategy, Orianna. A baptism in her church would mean that Luther would have to bathe him again, and in his last memory of that, he almost drowned.
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It took an hour for the carriage to finally arrive in front of the Garcia Mansion. Gardens of flowers stood on both sides of the road, and a statue of a white horse stood proudly at the entrance. Maids were busy and going all around, while gardeners tended to the flowers and bushes. Guards patrolled, and the all-white mansion looked lively.
"Welcome home, young master Mograine." Opening the curtains for him, Albert smiled as he led him out of the carriage.
"Cousin! You've finally arrived! Welcome!" a young lady shouted as she ran clumsily towards him, unfitting of the 'noble' image.
She was a young lady just a little shorter than him, dressed in a flowing white dress that swayed with each step. Soft curls of chestnut hair framed her face, bouncing lightly as she approached, and her wide blue eyes shone with a bright, welcoming warmth. Her features were delicate yet lively — a small, graceful nose, rosy lips curved into an excited smile, and cheeks touched with the faintest blush. A white hat rested atop her curls, its ribbon fluttering in the sea breeze, giving her an almost ethereal charm as she hurried toward him.
Embracing her in a hug, he smiled, blushing. It's not that he cared about nobility etiquette that much; neither did the spoiled granddaughter of Duke Garcia. It's just that servants would speak around, create rumours and create problems for the young lady's image. A few maids were even covering their mouths, amazed at the brazen Alexstraza.
"Hey hey, Alex! You've grown so much! It is indeed true that the beauty of the empire is budding here!"
"Haha, Val. I haven't seen you since we were 6! I remember how you beheaded that goblin, and then we kicked its head around! Please, ignore the maids and everyone; Grandpa knows my character, so it's fine. They can talk as much as they want!" grabbing him by the hand, she led him under the shocked gazes of the maids, her own butler and Albert, who was shaking his head.
Soon, they arrived in front of a door that held the Garcia Crest on one side and a crimson serpent - the Mograine Crest. Those were going to be his living quarters, consisting of three rooms - a bedroom, a bathroom, and a living room with a desk. Not much, but everything was luxurious and crafted with great detail.
"Make yourself at home, cousin. There is a catalogue of clothes; you should pick a few now in your size and give them to Albert for ordering. Everything else you need is here. I will see you at dinner." Bidding him farewell, the always so sunny Alexstraza left to do her own things, giving Valtherion a breath of relief.
"Young master, I will be in the opposite room. If you need something, just knock or call for me" Deciding to leave the young man to rest, Albert took his leave as well.
Finally alone, he looked at himself in the mirror, standing one meter and seventy-four centimetres tall, sweaty, in a black uniform. The first thing he did was to remove his shirt and replace it with a white linen shirt. His abs stood out, with scars here and there; he was in good health for his age, not buff but lean and well sculpted.
Rolling his sleeves to his elbows, as well as his leggings, he could finally breathe as he lay on the massive bed in his bedroom, while looking at the catalogue of clothes. He did not have any specific style or desire to stand out, so he circled normal clothing and uniforms, as well as a few robes.
At least, he did not have to worry about money. His parents, although as County lords they should be rich, weren't entirely like that. All of the money went straight back into the territory, expanding it and funding new projects - his father was not idle, and the troops he commanded were expensive. Still, they had enough money, and his mother was also a woman with a few private businesses in the County as well as here in the Capital. Nothing grand, but more than enough.
Getting up, Valtherion walked towards his desk. There were three small gift boxes with golden ornaments, all for him.