Journey to Become the Zenith-Chapter 9: The Price of a Hero

The Price of a Hero

The village elder was convinced that Videl had the blood of a hero coursing through her veins.

That belief burned brightly in his aged eyes as he stood before the gathered men of Kanal Village.

Through the dim light, oil flames trembled on rough wood. Moving dark shapes danced, uneasy, almost alive. Thick odors hung - smoke first, then body heat, then that old sharpness of panic left behind after what happened at Red Bear.

The old man pressed on, voice steady as he unfolded his idea.

Something deeper stood behind their eyes - no accident, just quiet certainty.

Something made it happen.

It was destiny.

Videl might just rise as the one who follows after the Hero, he said. Yet something about her stood out beyond mere talent.

Whispers moved across the room like wind.

Hope stirred.

Fear crept up from behind.

Finding his way through layers of talk, the old man touched at last on what he truly meant.

"Everyone here should help pitch in to pay for Videl’s entrance to the Knight Academy."

A hush settled over everything. Stillness took hold without warning.

People who trusted him still felt their muscles tighten.

"She still cannot attend this year," the elder continued. "The minimum age is sixteen. And the entrance fee is two gold coins."

Two gold coins.

A flash of sound hit the air. The silence cracked open. Words fell heavy, sudden, sharp.

Faces turned ghostlike on a few of the men.

A few gasped suddenly.

Some people who were ready to step in just seconds earlier turned their eyes elsewhere.

The old man lifted his arm.

"I will shoulder half the cost myself. I will pay one gold coin. The remaining one gold coin will be shared among all of you."

Shock erupted again.

Up rose a man.

"I’m sorry, Elder, but why should we pay for Videl’s schooling? It’s already hard just to survive. I barely have enough for my own family."

"Yes, that’s right!" another agreed.

More followed.

Fists balled tight at his sides, Videl’s dad stood stiff. A vein pulsed near his temple, jaw set hard against what came next.

Something rose in his chest, a noise fighting to get out.

Yet they refused to obey him.

Just a single gold coin sat far beyond his reach.

One stood so far apart it could’ve been another world entirely.

Thump went the old one’s walking stick against the tiles.

Silence cracked open.

Fools you are!" he shouted.

The room froze.

Funny thing, his voice rising like that - never happened until now.

"Have you forgotten who saved your pitiful lives?! If Videl had not killed that Red Bear, we would have sent every man available to fight it - and even then there would be no guarantee of victory! Many of you - no, all of us - would be dead!"

His gaze burned.

"So tell me - are your coins more precious than your lives?!"

Faces showed quick flashes of shame.

Still, the world pulled inward again.

"Even so!" one man protested. "If we help Videl attend the academy, we’ll still die. Not by beasts - but by poverty!"

Some nodded grimly.

The elder snorted.

"Die of poverty? Truly, Brenton? The meat you eat is shared by our hunters. You won’t starve. The taxes are heavy, yes - but not fatal."

A sudden stillness came into his gaze, like a blade catching light.

"Or is it because you need that money for the prostitutes you visit every time you go to town?"

Brenton turned pale. His skin lost its warmth, suddenly dull under the light.

The old man turned his gaze toward those beside him, the ones who’d stood firm when it mattered.

"I may be old, but I am not blind. Do you want me to tell your wives?"

A hush dropped like a stone. Silence clung to every corner of the room.

One man stammered, "I’ve never even touched another woman!"

"Hmph. I know all your dirty secrets. I have a good informant."

A hint of warmth touched his eyes. The hardness there began to fade.

"Instead of wasting money on nonsense, use it for your savior. For our savior. If Videl becomes a knight, this village’s status will rise. Our taxes may lessen. She may even protect us from that cursed marquis."

This time, things felt different. A change had settled in without warning.

Fear gave way to a quiet possibility. Then came hesitation, softened by something almost like belief.

A small smile touched the old person’s lips.

"Young fools. If I began with this, you would agree half-heartedly and regret it later. So I forced your true feelings out first."

Folks everywhere seemed to agree on one point.

What a sly old fox.

After that came talk of the test needed to get in.

Reading.

Writing.

Though Videl didn’t pass the written part, success in the hands-on section might make up for it.

"Dave," the elder said, smiling mischievously, "you were once a merchant. Teach her."

Dave sighed.

"Of course. As if I could refuse."

Only much afterward did it hit him

Maybe he’d show Victor how it works, then Skyla might catch on too, after that Lane could join in.

-

Beyond the building’s edge, just past splintered planks, two ears per child caught every sound. A fence stood guard, rough and unpainted, while silence held breath between whispers. Each pair crouched low, watching cracks where light cut through.

Her fingers tightened on his arm. The fabric bunched under her grasp.

"Victor is amazing... everything changes when he moves."

Lane nodded quietly.

One girl felt it, just like the other. A quiet match of minds slipped between them.

Walking next to him was what they had in mind.

Not behind.

Not below.

Beneath a tree, Videl stayed by herself, arms around her legs.

Over and over, that second played back in her mind. The scene wouldn’t stop repeating. Again it came - clear, sharp. Each time felt heavier than before. That instant stuck, looping without warning.

Victor standing in front of the bear.

Victor smiling calmly.

She took the lead while Victor moved aside. Quietly, he gave her space to rise. His silence spoke louder than motion ever could. A pause became his answer. Light found her through his stillness.

Breathing became harder than usual. Stillness pressed against her chest like a quiet weight.

Why does he always look like that... like he belongs above everyone else?

Her hand moved slow, landing flat against her ribs. A breath caught underneath it.

It matters that we both move forward, not just me.

I’m aiming to find that same spot he’s standing on.

Beyond the village, a long way off -

Fate started shifting. A slow tilt unfolded. Things moved differently now.