Re:Crafting in Another World
Chapter 66: Running away

Chapter 66: Running away

The heavy clack of boots echoed through the stone dormitory corridor as Christina shoved the last of her robes into the leather-bound trunk. Her breaths were shallow, rushed, but her hands worked with practiced precision—this wasn’t the first time she’d fled, but it was the first time she ran with something worth fearing at her back.

"You’re really leaving?" Lema’s voice came softly, almost like a plea.

Christina paused, one hand still gripping the strap of her travel satchel. Her friend stood by the door, fingers clutched around the hem of her cloak, worry written plainly across her face.

Lema was a student of mage faculty also being a daughter of a famous merchant in capital, Lema had been Christina’s closest companion at Sturgon Academy. Neither noble blood nor divine birth, they’d bonded over shared ceilings of limitations.

"Yes," Christina said, not meeting her gaze. "I have to go. I won’t get another chance."

"I heard..." Lema’s voice faltered. "I heard about the duel. You fought Princess Maria of Harlow?"

Christina grit her teeth at the mention of the name. Her jaw twitched, and her eyes flashed with something between regret and dread.

"I wasn’t thinking straight," she muttered. "I—I wasn’t myself. I got caught up in it. I got caught up in her intimidating words."

"But why?" Lema stepped forward. "Everyone’s saying you held your ground against her. You—" She hesitated. "What exactly happened?"

"She wants to create problems. She knew if I showed my talent all the other higher nobels would try to create more problems for me and yet she forced me to fight." Christina said darkly. "That woman... she’s not human. She saw through me like a thin leaf."

Lema blinked. "You can’t be serious—"

"I am," Christina snapped. Her hand rose instinctively to her cheek, fingers brushing the bruised skin where Maria’s straight sword had cracked across her face. It still burned. Not from pain. From the memory of fear. "She could’ve killed me. All of us. If she wanted to. I could feel her power."

Lema frowned, uncertain. "But the Harlow Empire is just... another nation. They’re known for their strange customs and strict etiquette, but—"

"Have you heard the stories?" Christina interrupted. Her voice lowered, as though even the stone walls might be listening. "The first King of Harlow... they say he was a dragon. Sturgon’s believe it is a myth...but after fighting her, I can tell, that woman is something more than human."

Lema scoffed, but hesitated. "That’s just a myth. Dragons are extinct. Or ascended—turned into divine beings. That’s what the old scholars say, beside they were not interested in human matters when they were alive."

"I felt it," Christina said, eyes haunted. "When I looked into Maria’s eyes... it was like looking into the abyss. She didn’t see me as a student, or even a knight. Just... something to play with.."

The room fell quiet. Even the wind outside had grown still.

"She’s dangerous, Lema," Christina added. "And our academy’s trying to challenge her—to show off to her. It’s a mistake."

Lema bit her lip. "Froget about her. Are you’re really running away?"

Christina turned toward the trunk and closed the lid with a soft click.

"I’m not running," she said quietly. "I’m stepping away before things get worse for me. I would rather allow my father to settle these matters."

"But what about Master Udo?" Lema asked. "And the others? They’ll twist this. You know they will. Can’t you speak to him at least? Explain what happened?"

Christina shook her head, with a bitter smile.

"Master Udo won’t understand. He can’t. I’m supposed to be weak—untalented. Always beneath him. That’s the only reason he ever tolerated me. Now that I’ve shown power... he’ll come for me. Him and all the other noble brats orbiting around his shadow. A baron’s daughter can’t be stronger than a count’s son. That’s the norm—and if that norm is challenged, there will be conflict."

Lema clenched her fists. "That’s not fair."

"When has any of this ever been fair?" Christina asked softly.

She walked briskly down the hallway, her cloak swishing behind her like a trailing shadow. Lema followed her down the stairs, through the courtyard, and toward the academy gates where Christina’s carriage was already waiting—dark green, with the sigil of House Percival embossed in gold upon the side.

As the driver began securing the last of her bags, Christina turned and wrapped Lema in a tight hug.

"I’ll come back after the vacation," she promised. "Once I’ve spoken to my family. Once things have calmed down."

"I don’t like this," Lema whispered. "I feel like something’s wrong."

"So do I," Christina admitted. "But staying here... would be worse."

"Be safe."

"You too."

As the carriage rumbled toward the edge of the capital, Christina sat back against the cushioned seat, her heart pounding with every roll of the wheel. At the city gates, a line of travelers had formed—merchants, messengers, and noble families all stopped for inspection. The guards were thorough, their steel gleaming, their expressions filled with focus.

Princess Maria’s presence had turned the capital into a fortress.

The carriage slowed as they reached the checkpoint.

Christina pulled the curtain aside slightly to peek at the guards. Her hand hovered over the escape latch beneath the seat, just in case—

"Is it Baron Percival? Is it Lord Percival?!" a voice called out from the crowd.

Christina’s eyes narrowed. That voice... it was familiar.

She opened the curtain wider and peered outside. An old man stood by the gate, waving his hand and dragging a bulging sack on his back. His robes were patched in places, but the golden threads of the church’s sigils still glowed faintly on the fabric.

"...Padre Osmund?" Christina called, pushing the door open halfway.

The old cleric blinked, then beamed. "Ah! Young Lady Christina! What a blessing to see you here!"

"What are you doing near the gate? Are you leaving to treat someone?" she asked, confused.

"I’m on my way to the Percival Barony," Padre said, huffing as he hurried over. "Received an urgent summons from Lady Cassandra herself."

"My mother?" Christina frowned. "She sent summons for you?"

Padre climbed into the carriage gratefully and settled beside her, brushing dust from his lap. "Yes. Didn’t say much in the letter, only that someone in the household is ill. Very ill. The letter arrived this morning—said it couldn’t wait."

Christina’s brows furrowed. Her mother never summoned healers lightly because she knew it would make her father, Count Percival angry.

"Do you know who it is?" she asked.

"I’m afraid not," Padre said with a shake of his head. "But the tone in her message... it worried me. Lady Cassandra usually writes with care. This time, it was rushed. Desperate, even."

Christina looked down, her chest tightening. Who could it be? Father? One of the staff? Or... Mother herself?

The carriage rolled forward, past the guards now satisfied with the old man’s clerical sigils and the Percival seal. They lowered their spears and allowed the carriage to pass through.

They stayed silent for a while, but then Padre started to talk.

"Everything in this city’s changed," Padre muttered, looking out the window. "Ever since Princess Maria arrived, the air’s been heavier. As if everyone’s waiting for something to happen. I don’t blame them. Her presence is a major threat to our peace between Harlow Empire. If something happens to her, we will be drag into a age of darkness."

Christina didn’t answer. She was thinking about the fight—about the weight in Maria’s strikes, about the coldness in her smile, about the way time itself had seemed to slow in her presence. A human couldn’t move like that.

"Padre..." Christina said quietly, "do you believe in dragons?"

Padre raised a brow. "Strange question."

"Just... answer me."

The old man leaned back, fingers steepled.

"I believe," he said slowly, "that there are truths buried so deep they become myths. And some myths are just truths waiting for the right moment to rise again."

Some say they are just myths, while others claim dragons are our true gods—which is a heretical belief according to our holy scripture," Padre muttered, then paused for a moment. "Personally, I like to think such a majestic creature once lived in our land, because it’s exciting.

Christina closed her eyes.

Then that woman is one of those truths.

Princess Maria... Is she the pinnacle of strength that I should be aiming to reach? Can I even reach that high? Should I ask for her help, despite her being one of the scariest beings I’ve ever met?

Christina was fully confused about her own goals. She had so many, yet so few at the same time. Her life felt like she was doing random things without any true purpose.

"What am I fighting for? My land? My mother? My father? Myself?" She tried to find the answer, but no matter how hard she thought, she couldn’t find the correct answer.

And as the carriage pulled away from the capital, toward home and the unknown patient that awaited Padre’s healing, she couldn’t help but feel like she was leaving one storm behind... only to walk straight into another.