Steel clanged against steel in the training yard. Kael blocked Mika's strike, deflected, twisted his wrist, and landed a clean touch on his opponent's side.
"Point," declared Favius from the sidelines, arms crossed as he watched.
Mika stepped back, breathing hard. He had improved—everyone had—but Kael… Kael was different. Faster. Sharper. As if every motion had been calculated three moves ahead.
"Again," Kael ordered, settling into guard stance.
As Mika readied for the next bout, Kael's mind drifted. Not fully—he never lost focus in combat—but enough to process what had happened yesterday.
One day earlier. Kael had found Sareth in the secondary library, tucked into a corner where the light barely reached. His younger brother was hunched over a book he clearly wasn't reading, gaze lost somewhere distant.
The bruises on his face had already begun to fade—yellowish and ugly—but they were still there. Visible. Shameful.
"Sareth," Kael called, approaching.
Sareth startled, snapping the book shut. "Kael. I… didn't know you came here."
"I rarely do." Kael sat on the bench across from him, studying him. "What happened?"
"Nothing."
"You have bruises."
"I fell."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Do you think I'm stupid?"
Silence. Sareth looked away, hands trembling slightly on the book's cover.
Kael sighed, softening his tone. "Sareth. We're brothers. You can tell me."
And maybe it was the tone. Or maybe Sareth was too broken to keep holding it in. But he finally spoke.
He told everything. Cedric. Carmen. The garden. The shove. Rylan arriving like the perfect hero. Carmen leaving with him.
Kael listened without interrupting, his face a mask of concerned attention.
Inside, his mind raced at breakneck speed.
Cedric. A minor noble with more ego than brains. Easy to manipulate.
Rylan. Playing hero. Taking the girl. At that age of wanting to impress, of feeling lust for the first time.
Carmen. The servant my foolish brother left on a silver platter.
And Lyssara… That was the most interesting detail. Comforting Sareth. Showing kindness. She, who never shows kindness without reason.
A small smile, barely a twitch of lips, threatened to form. Kael suppressed it.
"I'm sorry, Sareth," he said finally, voice perfectly tuned with compassion. "That must have been… hard."
Sareth nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
Pathetic. But useful.
Kael stood, clapping Sareth's shoulder. "Rest. Things will get better."
And he left, leaving Sareth in his dark corner.
But his mind was already three moves ahead.
Mika's strike came faster this time. Kael saw it, calculated, and instead of blocking, ducked, swept Mika's legs, and dropped him.
"Point," Favius announced again, this time with an approving grin.
Kael extended a hand, helping Mika up. "You're improving."
"Not enough," Mika muttered, brushing dust from his clothes.
"Yet." Kael smiled. "But you will."
He turned to the rest of his group—six initiates total, all younger than Rylan's trainees, but loyal. Hungry. His.
"Ten-minute break," he ordered. "Then we resume formations."
As they scattered, Kael walked to the yard's edge, drinking from a water barrel. His mind returned to the plan.
First move: Sareth.
That morning. Kael had waited for Sareth in the hallway outside his room. When his younger brother emerged—deep shadows under his eyes, clothes wrinkled—Kael blocked his path.
"Sareth. I need to talk."
Sareth eyed him warily. "About what?"
"About Carmen. And… other things."
They walked together to the gardens, the same place it had all happened. Sareth tensed as they neared, but Kael guided him carefully to a different bench.
"Listen," Kael began, tone casual. "About Carmen. I'm sorry for what happened."
"You said that yesterday."
"I know. But I want you to understand something." Kael paused, choosing words. "Carmen… she's not the only woman in the world. You're young. There will be plenty more. Women who see you, who value you."
Sareth let out a bitter laugh. "Sure. Women who want the weak one."
"You're not weak. Just… different." Kael turned to him. "And there's someone who already sees you."
Sareth blinked. "What?"
"Lyssara."
The name dropped between them like a stone into still water.
"Lyssara?" Sareth stared as if Kael had said something absurd. "Our sister?"
"She comforted you, didn't she? After Cedric." Kael tilted his head. "Lyssara never comforts anyone. She's cold, calculating. But with you…" He paused, letting the implication hang. "She showed something different."
Sareth opened his mouth, closed it. His face was a canvas of confusion.
"I'm not saying it's romantic," Kael continued, voice soft, almost thoughtful. "But there's… concern. Special affection. Didn't you notice?"
"I… no. She was just—"
"Think about it." Kael stood, clapping Sareth's shoulder. "Just think about it."
And he left, leaving Sareth with the seed planted. A seed of doubt, of possibility, of something to redirect his focus away from Carmen.
First move complete.
The ten minutes passed. Kael's group returned to the yard's center when he noticed movement at the far end.
Rylan's group. His older brother strode at the front, tall and confident, his presence dominating the space effortlessly.
Second move.
Kael smiled.
That morning. Rylan woke as the sun barely peeked over the horizon. His body moved through his morning routine—push-ups, crunches, stretches—before dressing and heading to the dining hall.
The hallway was quiet at that hour, only a few servants starting daily chores. But Rylan noticed something off.
The maids.
As he passed two cleaning a window, both stopped. One smiled shyly, the other looked down but blushed visibly.
Strange.
Farther along, another servant—Mira, the blacksmith's wife—practically pressed herself against the wall as he approached, eyes wide and… admiring?
"Good morning, Lord Rylan," she murmured.
"Good morning," he replied, confused.
In the dining hall, Elyn was already seated, sipping tea with her usual cold elegance. Varen wasn't there—likely in his office since dawn.
"Rylan," Elyn greeted as he sat.
"Mother."
Breakfast was served. Rylan ate in silence, noting the servants entering and exiting lingered longer than usual. Small glances, fleeting smiles.
What the hell…?
"Rylan." Elyn's voice cut his thoughts. Her tone was… different. Worried.
"Yes?"
Elyn set down her cup, eyes studying him. "I need to ask you something. And I want honesty."
Rylan frowned. "Of course."
"Are you… involved with someone inappropriate?"
"What?" Rylan nearly choked on his bread. "What are you talking about?"
"The maids." Elyn lowered her voice, though they were alone. "They're saying things. About you and… certain young staff girls."
Heat crawled up Rylan's neck. "Mother, I didn't—"
"I understand you're at that age," Elyn continued, expression grave. "Hormones, urges. It's natural. But you can't be with just any girl, Rylan. You're House Drayvar's heir. Your reputation—"
"I'm not with anyone inappropriate," Rylan cut in, voice louder than intended. "I don't know what comments you mean, but they're lies."
Elyn studied him. "Maids don't usually make up such things without reason."
"Well, this time they did." Rylan stood, leaving breakfast half-eaten. "Excuse me."
He left the hall, steps faster than normal. His mind raced.
Comments? Where did they come from? I just helped Carmen, nothing more. Why are the maids—?
Then it hit him.
Someone's talking. Someone's planting these ideas.
Cold fury settled in his chest.
Who the hell is spreading this nonsense?
His steps led straight to the training yard.
That morning—
Kael had arrived early to the yard, just as Rylan's group began routine. He positioned himself strategically nearby—far enough not to be an obvious nuisance, close enough for his voice to carry.
"Heard?" Kael said to Favius, tone casual but projected. "Rylan rescued a servant girl yesterday. Quite the hero."
Favius, catching the cue, grinned. "Oh, yes. Very noble."
"Noble," Kael echoed with a small laugh. "Or maybe he just wanted to impress her. You know how it is at that age. Hormones. The urge to… conquer."
Another initiate chuckled nervously.
"It's natural," Kael continued, tone philosophical now. "A strong young man, probably thinking lustful things, sees a chance to play hero and earn a pretty girl's gratitude. Can't blame him."
Murmurs spread through his group. Some laughed, others nodded with male complicity.
Across the yard, one of Rylan's older trainees overheard. Whispered to another. That one whispered to Rylan.
Kael saw the exact moment Rylan tensed.
Three… two… one…
Rylan turned, long furious strides crossing the yard. His group followed, forming a wall of bodies behind him.
"Kael." Rylan's voice was dangerously calm. "What the fuck are you saying?"
Kael raised hands, expression innocent. "Just chatting with my friends. Problem?"
"You're talking shit. About me."
"Shit? No, brother. Just… observations." Kael smiled faintly. "Didn't you rescue Carmen? Walk her back? It's admirable, really."
Kael's group positioned around him. Not aggressively, but a silent barrier.
Rylan noticed. Jaw clenched. "Careful, Kael. No matter how many kids you have behind you. You're still weak."
"Maybe." Kael shrugged. "But the weak learn to fight differently."
Rylan stepped forward, hand moving toward Kael—
Favius and Mika stepped in. Not threatening, just… present.
Rylan stopped. Looked at Kael, then the initiates, then back.
"Stay away from me," he growled. "And keep my name out of your mouth."
He turned to leave.
"Rylan," Kael called.
His brother paused, didn't turn.
"How about a duel?"
That made Rylan spin. Expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. "What?"
"A duel. You and me." Kael smiled. "Unless you're scared."
Rylan laughed. A genuine, almost scornful laugh. "Do you have any idea the gap between us? I'm fifth-layer Apprentice. You barely reach second."
"That's why I suggest fair." Kael paused. "No Aether. Just skill."
The yard fell silent.
Rylan stared. "No Aether?"
"Practice swords. First blood or yield. No Aether." Kael tilted his head. "Unless you need your power to beat a nine-year-old."
Murmurs started. First from Kael's group, then spreading.
"Coward."
"Afraid."
"Needs his Aether to win."
Rylan silenced them with a glare. Then back to Kael. "If I accept this, and I win—which I will—you apologize. Publicly. In front of everyone."
Kael nodded. "Of course. But if I win…"
"You won't."
"But if I do," Kael insisted, smile unwavering, "you fulfill one request of mine. Whatever I ask."
Rylan studied him. Something in Kael's eyes. Calculated. Dangerous.
But pride is a powerful thing.
"Done," Rylan said. "Tomorrow. Here. Noon."
He walked off, group following.
Kael turned to his own, smile widening.
Second move complete.
The training yard was fuller than usual.
Kael had dropped the information strategically—a word here, a mention there. "Duel between Kael and Rylan. Noon."
He didn't mention rules. Didn't mention the wager.
Just let anticipation build.
And there they were. Initiates, minor knights, servants who'd found excuses to linger. Even some nobles who'd caught rumors.
Kael's group stood on one side, voices loud with support.
"Kael's going to shock them!"
"The little prodigy!"
"Technique over brute force!"
Others watched curiously, not fully understanding but intrigued by the spectacle.
More people than usual. Perfect.
At the yard's edge, Kael noted two key figures.
Lyssara leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Eyes flicking between Kael and Rylan with what might have been suspicion.
And beside her, Sareth.
His younger brother now looked at Lyssara differently. Thoughtful. Considering.
The seed is sprouting.
Kael felt cold satisfaction spread through his chest.
Master Torin appeared, usual scowl in place. "What is this circus?"
"A duel, Master Torin," Kael replied respectfully. "Between my brother and me."
Torin grunted. "Varen approve this?"
"Brotherly matter, sir. Just practice."
Torin narrowed eyes, then sighed. "Keep it clean. Anyone loses a limb, it's your problem."
He moved to the shade but didn't leave. He wanted to watch too.
Rylan entered from the opposite end. Walked with the confidence of someone who knew he'd already won. Practice sword dangling casually from his hand.
Kael's group erupted in cheers. The rest of the yard watched in expectant silence.
Kael walked to the center. Rylan did the same.
They stopped three meters apart.
"Sure about this?" Rylan asked, voice low but audible. "You can still back out."
"And miss you beating your little brother in front of everyone?" Kael smiled. "Wouldn't be fair to deprive you of the humiliation."
Something dangerous flashed in Rylan's eyes. "Careful, Kael. Even without Aether, I can break you."
"Then do it."
Torin stepped between them. "Rules. First blood or yield. No Aether. Understood?"
Both nodded.
"No Aether?" someone muttered in the crowd. "Why?"
"Kael asked for it," another replied. "To make it fair."
"That's not fair. That's suicide."
Torin stepped back. "Positions."
Kael and Rylan raised swords.
The yard was silent now. Every eye locked on the two brothers in the center.
Kael breathed deep, mind crystal clear. Calculating. Assessing.
I don't need to win. I just need…
Torin raised his hand.
"Begin."
His hand dropped.
And the world moved.