A chill settled over the court, not from the winter winds, but from the palpable shift in Lord Valerius’s demeanor. No surprise, really. After the incident in the private archives, his thinly veiled disdain for me blossomed into open hatred. The courteous façade he maintained for his parents, for the older lords and ladies, vanished entirely. Now, Lady Elara, that quiet girl from the lower court, occupied the seat beside Valerius, her presence a silent testament to my fall from his grace. I prided myself on my discretion, my ability to mask genuine feelings with layers of polite indifference. But a man could only bear so much. I could not pretend unaffected by this shame, nor could I allow myself to become a pathetic, cringing figure. Confronting Valerius as if nothing had changed, as if our shared history hadn't fractured into a thousand shards, felt like an impossible betrayal of myself. A melancholic haze began to cloud my days. An undercurrent of boredom accompanied it, like silt beneath clear water. Sometimes, a petty urge for vengeance flickered, hot and sharp, but always, I endured. What else could I do? Lord Valerius, that fiery temperament barely contained by aristocratic polish, began to regard me with a child's envy, a man's resentment. The reason was clear as the Emperor’s crest: Lady Elara. She was never mine to claim, yet she had stolen Valerius's affection and, in doing so, turned his ire upon me. A vicious knot tightened in my gut whenever I thought of her. Whether her actions were intentional or not, my feelings defied such logic. Blaming her offered a scapegoat, a small, dark comfort in this miserable situation. Yet, even in my despair, my choices remained rational. Elara was merely a pawn, swept along by Valerius’s volatile currents. I never showed her hostility. Partly, a hot blush of shame prevented me from revealing such base jealousy. Mostly, I knew any outward display would only make me appear a fool. Valerius would hate me more. Others in the court would label me, Kaelen, the meticulous scholar, a grasping, contemptible sycophant, envious of a girl of lesser standing. “...This is intolerable.” I despised it. More than Valerius’s hatred, I hated this gnawing fear of social disgrace. An image flashed through my mind: Lord Julian. That insufferable, yet strangely compelling, scion of the House of Sterling. He was the one I found myself most often entangled with lately. If he ever divined the true depths of my thoughts, what would he say? Probably something like: ‘So, Kaelen, the renowned scholar, is nothing more than a green-eyed fool, after all.’ Julian’s disdainful gaze, even in my imagination, made my hands clench. A wave of nausea threatened. No, no one must ever know. Not Julian, not anyone. Friendships, even among the nobility, often proved shallow. As Valerius’s animosity became clear, his inner circle naturally distanced themselves. Amusingly, Theron, one of Julian’s less prominent companions, had sought me out yesterday, his conversation as meandering as river fog. “Master Kaelen, Julian was asking for you.” “Oh? What for?” “He didn’t say. Just… looking.” Such purposeless exchanges were common. My standing in the court had shifted. People now implicitly linked me with Lord Julian’s faction, rather than Valerius’s. Of course, ties with Valerius’s group were not entirely severed. Occasionally, in the training grounds, or by chance in the morning, polite nods were exchanged. Though that largely remained limited to Theron. “Greetings, Kaelen! A good morning to you.” “...Good morning, Theron.” I remembered one such awkward exchange when Theron had murmured something under his breath. ‘Valerius has been… unusual lately. His manner with Elara, it’s almost… possessive, isn’t it?’ My face must have betrayed some unpleasant emotion, for he seemed to mistake it for agreement. He continued, speaking of how Valerius would compel Elara to sit near him, his hand gripping her arm, refusing to release her. My fists clenched. I gritted my teeth before I spoke. ‘I hold no interest in such unseemly matters.’ That silenced him immediately. Theron, I observed, had been attempting to ingratiate himself with Julian’s associates lately. He sought a quiet exit from Valerius’s shadow. Perhaps he shared these observations to forge a bond. --- Today, as often, only Julian and I lingered in the scholarly salon, the last of our respective parties to depart. Julian leaned against a shelf laden with ancient scrolls, his gaze fixed on me. Was he ignoring me? Assessing me? I averted my eyes, choosing to ignore him in turn. “Kaelen.” “Yes?” “Let us find some spiced wine after the evening meal. That blend we sampled last cycle was rather agreeable.” Julian disregarded my attempt at aloofness. He idly spun a polished obsidian orb between his fingers, its slick surface catching the light. The orb seemed to threaten a cascade onto the priceless artifacts, yet no one dared utter a word. He paid no heed to the atmosphere, indifferent, selfish even. I watched the orb’s erratic dance, a frown deepening on my face. My irritation, fueled by his brazen disregard, sharpened my tone. “The one you consumed entirely yourself? You acquired it for your sole pleasure, did you not?” “Not entirely. I found the garnet hue quite appealing.” “So, my preference was of no concern?” “How was I to discern your desires? You offered no pronouncement.” By then, the orb had rolled to the floor. Julian held out a hand, motioning for it. One of the junior scribes near the orb hesitated, then awkwardly retrieved it, placing it in Julian’s palm. Julian casually tossed the orb once more, then addressed the retreating scribe. “My thanks, simpleton.” His personality was infuriating. ‘Simpleton this, dullard that.’ Every pronouncement from his lips grated. Truly, it made little sense that such an obnoxious noble as Julian sought my company over Valerius’s. He ate with me, attended lectures with me, shared the private study chamber. Valerius was absent, yes, but Julian could easily dispatch a missive or arrange a rendezvous if he wished. The thought arose unexpectedly. I asked without much reflection. “Why do you not attend Lord Valerius these days?” Julian, mid-toss of the obsidian orb against the wall, froze. He turned, a puzzled expression on his face. “You had a disagreement with him,” he said. “I?” “Yes. You and Valerius.” “I am aware. I am the one involved. Why does it matter to you?” “You utter the strangest things. It is because you are my associate.” Julian scanned me, a blatant, unsettling gaze. Uneasy, I avoided his eyes, asking again. “You were also Valerius’s associate, were you not?” “Remarkable. You jest. Are you suggesting you are not my associate?” His tone now held incredulity. He pointed a finger at me. “No, I am your associate. But you were also Valerius’s. Why do you side with me?” “Well, I have known you longer.” “What are you speaking of? We became acquainted through Valerius, did we not?” “Observe, Kaelen. What nonsense are you spouting? We were companions in our first year!” “When?” “Truly, you are an insolent wretch. Back in the grand dining hall, our gazes met with consistent frequency!” “Oh… those instances.” “So, was I alone in perceiving our connection? You charlatan. That is why, as soon as we shared a salon, I approached you first! And you do not even acknowledge that? Unbelievable. My disappointment in you is profound.” “Ah.” “Unfathomable. Simply… unfathomable. How could you inflict such an injustice?” “Very well, I apologize. I am sorry, I am truly sorry.” I mumbled a hasty apology, recalling those awkward, yet strangely persistent, encounters from our first year. So, *that* had constituted his definition of “friendship.” I felt defrauded. Those stares, I had interpreted as veiled challenges, not amicable overtures. Wait, did that mean the first to suggest we break bread was not Valerius, but… Julian? The realization struck me with the force of a battering ram, leaving me stunned. It was unsettling, almost shocking. Still, unwilling to become further entangled, I feigned comprehension, nodding. “Alright, alright. I understand. My apologies.” “I was profoundly vexed just now.” Julian glared at me briefly. Sometimes, I found his internal workings utterly inscrutable. “And furthermore, Valerius behaves with serious aberration.” “...” “That man is utterly unhinged at present. He has always been somewhat unbalanced, but this? This is… truly something.” He grabbed the obsidian orb with four fingers, lazily spinning it around his temple with an index finger. The sight brought to mind Theron and the other minor nobles who had awkwardly attempted to speak with me about Valerius. From that alone, one truth emerged: Lord Valerius’s standing was in freefall. *“Unseemly.”* The word, the most feared and damning stigma in the world of the Veridian Empire’s eighteen-year-olds, sent a chill through me. My body trembled slightly at the thought. At the same time, I felt a shameful relief that no one suspected *my* hidden burdens. Did that relief mean I valued my own preservation above Valerius’s ruin? Uneasy, I met Julian’s gaze, feeling like a heretic priest concealing forbidden knowledge before an Archon. “Truly, myself,” I muttered. Then I let out a laugh—a strange, brittle sound, a mixture of fear and derision. It was almost comical that, to others, I was Julian’s closest companion. In truth, I was no different—a criminal branded with an unholy stigma, my intellect and meticulous nature masking desires considered grasping, ignoble. Only a few months prior, I had been Valerius’s closest confidant. Now, I merely hid in a squalid trap I’d barely escaped. I had only managed to avoid being caught. That was all. --- It was dawn. A missive arrived from an unknown sender. A silent summons at four bells. Half-asleep, I wondered if this entire sequence of events was a dream. Though I had deliberately avoided Valerius to protect myself from further injury, my heart still leaped at the thought that the missive might be from him. I hastily rubbed my eyes, checking the sender once more. My feelings were conflicted. Part of me hoped it was merely one of those unsolicited invitations to obscure rituals. But as soon as I read the content, I knew it was not from Valerius. “Kaelen, I apologize for contacting you at this hour. Could you present yourself outside your residence for a moment? I am sorry. Truly sorry.” “Just this once. Just this one time.” No. Lord Valerius would never offer an apology to *me*. Among my peers, only two used the familiar address “Kaelen,” and of those two, only one was so pitifully desperate. How had Lady Elara even ascertained my residence? The moment I read the message, my face twisted into a scowl. I desired no audience with her—never desired to see her. Her presence was always an unpleasant harbinger. But despite my thoughts, I rose from my bed, buttoned my tunic, and stood. I walked to my chamber door, but paused short of stepping through, resting my forehead against the cool stone frame with a deep sigh. “...Damn it.” The sensation was overwhelming, a knot tightening in my stomach. No other phrase captured it. I clutched my chest. I had always prided myself on my erudition, on my vast lexicon gleaned from countless ancient tomes, yet none of the words I knew could fully express this intricate, tangled mess of emotions. It was simply… complicated. My resentment for Lady Elara, the vivid memory of her face bruised purple that day in the archives, and the desperate lengths I had gone to separate myself from their burgeoning entanglement, all swirled together. Biting my lip, I fiddled with the ornate doorknob, then closed my eyes and turned it with a decisive twist. In the inner court garden, the cold morning dew clung to the air, heralding the arrival of autumn. To avoid the wet grass, I stepped carefully onto the cool marble stones that paved the paths. The chilly dawn compelled me to pull my sleeping robe tighter. My bare toes, peeking from the front of my embroidered slippers, carried me all the way to the front gate. I paused there, clicked my tongue lightly, and grasped the handle. The creaking of the hinge made me flinch. I opened the gate even more slowly. Beyond, illuminated by the streetlight on the asphalt, stood Lady Elara in her simple court uniform. Her head hung low as she idly scrawled invisible shapes on the ground with the tip of her shoe. “...Lady Elara.” At my voice, Elara’s head snapped up like lightning. “Kaelen, Kaelen!” “What is t

A Scholar's Burden