Chapter 409: Velden
The falls roared in the distance, a constant, soothing thunder. Nero and Khione walked toward the sound, their hands still linked, their steps unhurried. The city of Velden unfolded around them, a blend of glass and stone, of water and green.
The couple drawing all eyes, passed a small bridge arching over a canal, and Khione stopped to look down at the clear water, at the fish swimming lazily beneath the surface. Nero waited, watching her. The sun caught her hair, turning it silver.
They reached the first cascade. It was not the great falls, but a smaller one, a curtain of water falling from a garden wall into a stone basin. A sign nearby explained that this was one of many such cascades, built by the city’s founders to bring the mountains into the heart of the city. Khione knelt and touched the water. It was cold, clean. She smiled, a rare, unguarded smile, and Nero felt something warm spread through his chest.
They walked on, exploring. The city had a market, open and airy, with stalls selling everything from fresh bread to handcrafted jewelry. Nero bought two pastries—flaky, filled with cream and berries—and they ate them as they walked, sharing bites, laughing at the crumbs that fell on their clothes. Khione’s laughter was soft, almost shy, but it grew more natural as the afternoon wore on.
They found a park, a large expanse of grass and trees, with paths winding between flowerbeds. A musician played a violin near a fountain, the music sweet and sad. Nero pulled Khione toward a bench, and they sat, listening, watching the water dance. She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, and he put his arm around her. They did not speak. The music spoke for them.
Later, they found a small shop that sold paint and canvas. The owner, an old woman with kind eyes, offered them a corner where they could paint whatever they wished. Nero had never painted before. His strokes were clumsy, the colors muddy. Khione was better, her hand steady, her eye for detail sharp. She painted the falls, the mist, the trees. Nero painted her. It was terrible, a mess of blues and whites, but when she saw it, she laughed—a real laugh, full and warm, and he laughed with her.
They left the paintings with the old woman, who promised to hang them in her window. Khione’s hand found his again, and they walked toward the great falls.
The path led upward, through a grove of ancient oaks, their branches forming a canopy that filtered the sunlight. The roar grew louder, the air cooler, damper. And then they were there.
The cascade was immense, a wall of water falling a hundred feet into a pool of deep blue. Mist rose in clouds, catching the light, forming rainbows that shifted and faded. The pool was surrounded by terraced gardens, flowers of every color blooming in the spray. A wooden bridge crossed the pool, leading to a small island in the center.
Nero led Khione onto the bridge. The mist wet their faces, their clothes. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back, letting the water touch her skin. He watched her, memorizing the moment.
"Thank you," she said, opening her eyes.
"For this. For today."
He squeezed her hand. "Thank you for the watch."
They stood on the bridge, the falls roaring around them, and kissed. It was soft, gentle, a kiss of gratitude and promise.
When they pulled back, Khione was smiling. Not the small, controlled smile she wore in public, but a real smile, bright and open. She looked young, free, unburdened.
"I haven’t laughed like that in a long time," she said.
"Neither have I."
"We should do this more often. Forget the missions. The training. Just... be."
Nero nodded. "We will."
They walked back through the city, slower now, savoring the last moments. The sun was lower, the shadows longer. They passed the market again, the park, the small cascade. Khione paused at a stall selling flowers and bought a single white rose. She tucked it into Nero’s jacket pocket.
"For luck," she said.
He touched the petal, soft as silk. "I don’t need luck. I have you."
She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling.
They reached the train station as the clock struck four. The train back to the academy would leave in ten minutes. They found seats by the window, and as the city of Velden slid away, Khione rested her head on Nero’s shoulder.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He kissed her hair. "Thank you."
The train carried them home, through the green fields and the rolling hills, back to the academy, back to the meetings and the missions and the coming storm. But for a few hours, they had been just two people, in a beautiful city, falling in love.
And when they stepped off the train, her hand in his, her laughter still echoing in his ears, Nero knew that this was what he was fighting for. Not for power, not for revenge, not for the mysteries of his past. For this. For her. For moments like these.
The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long golden shadows across the streets of Velden. Nero and Khione had wandered through markets, painted pictures, stood beneath waterfalls. But there was one more place they wanted to see before leaving.
The tower rose from the center of the city, a lattice of red steel reaching toward the clouds. It was not as tall as the academy’s spires, not as grand as the imperial palace, but it had a grace of its own—a slender elegance that made it seem to float above the buildings below. Nero had seen pictures of it online, a structure modeled after an ancient design from a distant continent.
Now, seeing it in person, he understood why it was famous spot for lovers, he could finally understood why people would love this place, not only it was beautiful it was symbolic.