The Runesmith

“I didn’t think we would get such a good view of the gate.”

Roland looked out into the distance where a large gate had been built. Such places were usually considered strategic military locations, but this one seemed to have been developed as a kind of tourist attraction.

“I suppose you wouldn’t know.” 

Arthur said as he walked a few steps ahead and gestured for Roland and Mary to follow. 

“This whole terrace was constructed for that purpose.”

Roland raised an eyebrow. 

“I see, are they making it a spectacle?”

Arthur paused and looked toward the other viewing platforms that extended into the distance. Several buildings appeared to have been placed in carefully chosen positions to give people a clear view of those passing through the gate. Now that Roland was here, it was obvious that this had been done with intention.

“Indeed. It’s a way to show the prestige of the Valerian house. Not many can afford to use a high-tier teleportation gate. When one of the noble heirs returns, the family wants the entire city to see it. They want people to witness the power and wealth of those who command such magic.”

Roland nodded. Although the gate was probably not used often and might seem like a waste of resources, it still served a clear purpose. It stood as a symbol of the Valerian lineage, a statement that they possessed enough wealth and influence to build a gate wherever they pleased.

They stood on one of the viewing platforms overlooking the gate, positioned farther away from the main plaza. Other noble families had already reserved the closer platforms, but they hadn’t wanted to be too close anyway. Arthur still seemed uneasy about his brothers and preferred not to be seen by them when they arrived.

“I don’t see Brother Ivan anywhere, but maybe that’s for the best…”

Before long, they settled into the restaurant attached to the platform and took the opportunity to sip some tea. Arthur glanced around, searching for the familiar flash of Ivan’s red hair, but saw no sign of him. It was clear he hadn’t come to greet his brothers, and the reason didn’t need much explanation.

“After his mistake, I reckon he doesn’t want to see someone he once considered beneath him in worth arriving.” 

Roland said, now standing near the edge of the terrace.

Arthur gave a quiet nod. 

“That’s probably it.”

The time for the arrival was drawing near. Roland straightened his posture and fell silent, slipping into the composed demeanor expected of a knight. Moments later, the gate began to exude magical energy. There was movement near its base as a group of armored men assembled to welcome whoever was about to arrive.

In the distance, the Runic patterns glowed across the stone platform. Runic was the primary magical language used for these constructs, and because of that, Roland was starting to understand what to look for when interacting with the gates. Although it was not easy, he felt confident that he could take control of the gate if they ever needed to escape. Watching it activate now would only help him speed up that process if the situation ever arose.

Arthur’s hands tightened around his teacup, and even Mary, who was usually unreadable, narrowed her eyes. The gate erupted in its usual water-like energy, forming a pathway, and finally people began to appear. Some of the onlookers gasped, raising their voices in surprise. Children pointed and laughed as the first figures stepped through.

Just as it had been when Arthur arrived, the first to emerge were personal mounted soldiers. The horses they rode looked unusual, larger than normal, with strange gems embedded in their foreheads. It was clear these were not ordinary mounts but magical beasts, each comparable in strength to a tier two class holder.

‘So it was true, he has a fondness for magic.’

Roland kept the thought to himself as a large number of soldiers and magical beasts continued to cross through. Eventually, a carriage similar to Arthur’s appeared. This one was covered in glyphs and sigils, radiating magical power that matched the forces around it.

“Brother Tybalt’s forces leave quite an impression, don’t they?”

“Indeed.” 

Roland replied, glancing back at the readings. Mana from the gate still lingered in the air, but even despite it, he could sense that nearly everyone in the group carried a significant amount of magical energy. Tybalt Valerian was affiliated with a magical academy and had reportedly graduated at the top of his class. He had a clear preference for magic users and was known for surrounding himself with individuals who possessed mana-based classes.

“Our Lord’s carriage was much better.”

Mary spoke in an irritated tone, as if she didn’t want her lord to fall behind his brother. The two were close in age, with Tybalt being older by just a year. Roland didn’t know the exact nature of their relationship, but it was clear that Arthur wasn’t pleased to see the man who had just stepped out of the carriage. The newcomer appeared elegant and refined, yet there was something undeniably vain about him.

Tybalt Valerian descended from his carriage with profound grace, moving as though he had rehearsed each step for this very moment. He was slightly taller and far more slender than Arthur. His features were striking, almost like a portrait rather than a real man, and his limbs were long and poised. His robe flowed in a cascade of azure silk with intricate silver embroidery. What caught Roland’s attention most was his hair, which shimmered under the morning sun in shifting shades of blue, almost glowing with light. 

‘Could it be because of his mana? Perhaps he was a water mage.’

The sight reminded Roland of Lucille, who specialized in ice magic. Mages with strong elemental affinities often experienced physical changes. Blue hair, blue eyes, or even bark-like skin were not uncommon. Some families even established lineages to preserve these affinities across generations. Now that he had seen this fourth brother, Roland could tell that Arthur and the others didn’t share the same mothers. This was true for all of the brothers and explained why their struggle to become the sole heir was so intense.

All of them shared the same father, a man their mothers desperately curried favor with. Only one of the brothers could become the next duke, and this drove them into constant conflict. To many, the noble lords were figures to be envied, but to Roland, they evoked only pity. Each of them longed for their father’s recognition and were pushed by both circumstance and their own mothers to turn against one another. Once a new duke was chosen, the others would either be forced to leave the island forever or submit to his rule, or perhaps even perish. 

“He seems to like the attention.”

Tybalt paused at the base of the stairs leading from the gate, allowing the crowd to absorb the full spectacle of his arrival. His entourage formed a semicircle behind him, armed and armored in a mix of ceremonial and practical gear. Mages, knights, and magical beasts moved in tight formation. Although most of them would be sent to the outer castle district, their presence here was clearly intended to display his prestige.

Tybalt raised one hand, not to greet the crowd, but to quiet the applause that had begun to ripple through the noble viewing platforms. His pale blue eyes scanned the terraces. He did not linger, but Roland noticed the brief moment when Tybalt’s gaze reached their section. His expression remained unchanged, but there was a flicker of recognition, quickly replaced by indifference.

“He saw us…”

Arthur exhaled slowly, clearly affected by the way his brother brushed past them without a word. Tybalt returned to his carriage and then continued, his large entourage following as he made his way toward one of the grander mansions. A crowd began to form behind him, eager to speak with one of the top three contenders for the ducal seat. It was a stark contrast to the silence and disinterest that had surrounded them just the day before.

“My brother is quite popular, isn’t he?”

“It does seem so, My Lord, but I don’t believe he is the most popular.”

Roland answered while gazing into the distance. One brother had arrived, but two more were still expected. Next in line was Theodore Valerian, a figure they were more familiar with. After an hour-long pause, the gate stirred once again, and another group began to make their way through. 

Where Tybalt’s entrance had felt like a grand theatrical performance, this new arrival was colder, darker, and far more grounded. There was no fanfare in Theodore Valerian’s approach. No mages in brilliant robes. No applause or idle chatter from the nobles. The atmosphere shifted as everyone turned their attention to the armored men marching in perfect formation, their movements precise and almost mechanical.

This brother’s presence carried a different motif. For reasons no one fully understood, he favored the raven, and some even joked that the nickname suited him because of his sharp, beak-like nose. His carriage was pitch black and almost completely devoid of ornamentation. In place of luxury, it bore defensive enchantments, the Valerian crest, and a large sculpted bird’s head jutting from the front.

His knights wore darkened armor that was heavily enchanted, making it difficult to gauge their true power even for someone like Roland. At the front rode a strange-looking armored man. His armor was pitch black, and his pauldrons were shaped like bear heads. He had a massive stature, one that only someone of the goliath race could naturally possess. Although no weapon was visibly carried, Roland could assume it was something large and heavy. A long cape fluttered behind him as he advanced in silence, and the aura of death he carried was quite obvious. 

“So that’s the infamous Bestial Warden. People say he has slaughtered thousands of beasts and barbarians in his lifetime.”

Arthur commented again as the march continued. The soldiers never stopped, they didn’t speak, nor did they glance in their direction. It was a silent and solemn display, yet the man leading them had earned the favor of many nobles and merchants. While not as many people seemed interested in following him, those who did were of higher status and greater prestige.

“That’s quite something… that man is dangerous. Will I have to fight him in the future?”

Roland thought to himself as he observed the man who appeared to be the most powerful among those in Theodore’s service. There were other knight commanders present, but none matched the one who rode at the front of the formation. It was an impressive show of strength, and this force seemed more capable than the previous one, though in a more traditional manner, as it lacked the same number of spellcasters. Even so, this brother was considered second only to one other, and that man would soon make his appearance.

‘Julius Valerian. He is said to be at the top, the best candidate for duke with just one major flaw…’

Rumors surrounded him. He was the firstborn and had used his early advantage to secure his current position. All of the brothers seemed capable in their own way, but Roland was eager to see the one who was said to embody the ideal noble. Another hour passed, and soon the gate pulsed again, signaling his arrival.

The gate shimmered, not violently, but with an elegance none of the previous arrivals had displayed. The glow was softer, more refined, and the color of the mana shifted from the usual blue to a rich gold, reminiscent of Solarian holy magic. The crowd erupted in cheers, louder than when Tybalt had appeared. But this time, there was something else in the air: prayer.

Robed figures emerged first, carrying the banners of both the Valerian household and the Solarian Church. This was Julius’s greatest flaw. He was a pious man, deeply involved with the church, and he would almost certainly elevate it to prominence if he became the new Duke.

The initial group was a blend of knights and clergy, presenting a deliberate image of unity between the Valerians and the Solarian Church, as if declaring that this alliance represented the future. As soon as he appeared, a wave of reverence swept across the terrace. Even nobles who typically scoffed at the church offered solemn nods of respect. His army did not appear as grand as Tybalt’s nor as intimidating as Theodore’s, yet the presence they commanded was undeniable and far greater, all because of one man on a white horse.

Julius Valerian passed through the golden gate like a figure from legend. His long golden hair flowed like sunlight, catching the morning light and casting a soft shimmer around him. His eyes were bright, clear, and golden like the rising sun, giving him an otherworldly warmth. The aura he carried was immense, and his golden armor evoked the image of the highest paladins.

‘From what I know, he is an honorary paladin. Because of his status, he was never allowed to officially join the church as one of their own, but not like that matters.’

Roland watched as his favorite zealots stepped beyond the gate. The golden mana was nothing more than a spectacle, a carefully crafted display meant to captivate. This was Julius’s greatest weakness. He was a man clearly influenced by the Solarian Church. Although it was not forbidden for him to be affiliated with them, his deep ties made it unlikely that he would ever separate himself from their influence. His official class remained a mystery, but it was almost certainly that of a Solarian paladin. Roland could sense it; holy mana radiated from him.

‘That’s quite the aura he carries…’

It quickly became clear why this person was in the lead. The people were mesmerized by his appearance and apparent goodness. Even Arthur, who was sitting next to him, could not help but stare. There was a certain presence this man carried, one that naturally drew attention. He stood in stark contrast to the second brother, Theodore, who came across as a villain by comparison.

That marked the end of the entrance for all the Valerian brothers. Julius did not make any dramatic gestures; instead, he simply waved to the crowd while stepping down from the teleportation gate. Soon, the rest of the onlookers began to rush forward, leaving only a few who remained behind without going to greet any of the brothers.

“You’ve got some tough competition.”

Roland tried to break the silence with a light joke, but it went unnoticed. Arthur simply nodded, looking defeated.

“Maybe it was a mistake to come here…”

Roland glanced sideways at him. Arthur clearly wasn’t himself. His heart was racing and his face had gone pale. Whatever memories had surfaced after seeing his brothers again, they had left a mark. He wasn’t handling it well. It wasn’t surprising that he was having second thoughts, but it was already too late to back out. They couldn’t leave the city without taking part in the assembly, and Arthur knew that.

“It’s too late for that now.”

Without saying more, Roland stepped closer and placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. It was a simple calming spell, one that eased his nerves and slowed his heartbeat. Arthur’s breathing began to steady, and after a moment, he responded.

“Ah… You’re right, there’s no turning back now. Let’s just head home for now.”

Arthur replied in a weak tone, his shoulders slumping forward. Mary opened the door, and they walked out without exchanging another word. Their pace was slow, and in the distance, the shouting of the other Valerian brothers only made things worse. It was clear that Arthur was not handling the situation well, but Roland had no idea what to say to make him feel better.

When they returned, it became even more obvious how little anyone expected from them. No one was waiting. Not even a single merchant approached Arthur to offer his services. It felt as if the future had already been decided, and there was no chance left for victory.

“I’m being underestimated… always underestimated…”

Arthur mumbled to himself as they stepped through the doors of the mansion. Once inside, he stopped and stared at Roland with a strange look in his eyes.

“Hit me.”

“What?”

“Just hit me.”

Mary looked startled as Arthur turned to Roland with the unusual command. The knights stood still, unwilling to lift a hand against their lord, but Roland had made no vow that stopped him. Without warning, his hand struck Arthur’s face, sending him flying several meters across the room and crashing to the ground.

“Lord Arthur!”

Mary cried out in panic, but Arthur did not get up. He stayed on the ground, motionless. Then, instead of groaning, he began to laugh. It started as a low chuckle and grew into something louder, more genuine. As he sat up, he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and grinned like a madman.

“…I needed that. Thank you, my friend.”

Mary stood speechless, unable to respond. Roland remained where he was, unmoving, watching as Arthur’s composure returned. The spark in his eyes had come back. That hunger to prove himself was still alive, and now that it had been reignited, it was time to show everyone that Arthur Valerian was also someone who deserved to be an heir.