The Royal Academy's main hall buzzed with energy.
Students clustered in groups, whispering excitedly.
Something was happening.
Marcus could feel the anticipation like static electricity.
"Brother, this is going to be excellent," Theodore said, practically vibrating.
"What's happening?"
"Damien Blackthorn is issuing a formal challenge. To me!"
Marcus blinked. "Is that good?"
"It's fantastic! He's the best swordsman in our year besides me."
"So you're going to fight him?"
"It's a duel, not a fight. Very different."
Theodore was grinning like a kid at his birthday party.
"This is going to be amazing."
Marcus was less enthusiastic. Duels sounded dangerous.
The crowd parted. Damien Blackthorn walked through, flanked by two other noble students. He moved with confidence, every inch the young lord.
He stopped in front of Theodore and bowed formally. "Theodore Aldridge. I, Damien Blackthorn, challenge you to a duel of honor."
The hall went silent.
Theodore bowed back, still smiling. "I accept your challenge, Lord Blackthorn."
"Excellent." Damien's own smile was sharp.
"Three days hence, in the academy arena.
Standard duel rules. Magic permitted, lethal force forbidden."
"Agreed."
"May the best swordsman win." Damien extended his hand.
Theodore shook it firmly. "I'm looking forward to this."
"As am I." Damien's eyes flicked to Marcus briefly. "You'll need a second. Someone to represent your family's honor."
"My brother Marcus will serve."
Marcus's brain caught up to the conversation. "Wait, what?"
"The second observes the duel and ensures fair conduct," Damien explained. "It's traditional. My mother will be mine."
"Your mother?"
"Countess Vivienne Blackthorn." Damien's expression was unreadable.
"You'll meet her at the duel."
He bowed again and walked away, his entourage following.
The hall erupted into excited chatter.
Theodore was immediately surrounded by students asking about training strategies.
Marcus stood there processing. He was now officially involved in a formal magical duel.
This is fine. It's just ceremonial. How dangerous can it be?
✧✧✧
Three days later, Marcus sat in the VIP section of the academy's dueling arena.
The arena was impressive. A circular sand pit surrounded by stone seating.
Magical barriers shimmered at the edges to contain stray spells.
The stands were packed. Apparently, duels between promising nobles were major social events.
Marcus wore his formal house colors, feeling extremely out of place among the other nobles.
They all looked comfortable, like this was routine entertainment.
"Lord Marcus Aldridge?"
Marcus turned. A woman stood beside him, and his brain momentarily short-circuited.
She was beautiful in a dangerous way.
Tall, powerfully built, with the kind of presence that made people step back instinctively.
Her hair was deep crimson, pulled back in a practical style. Amber eyes that should have been striking but somehow weren't.
"Countess Blackthorn, I presume?"
"Vivienne, please. We're about to watch our children hit each other with swords. Formality seems excessive." She sat beside him with fluid grace.
"You're Theodore's brother."
"I am."
"He's talented. Damien speaks highly of him."
"Damien is skilled as well. Theodore's been excited for days."
Vivienne's lips curved in something that technically qualified as a smile.
"Boys and their swords."
Other nobles greeted her as they passed.
"Lady Blackthorn, wonderful to see you."
"Countess, you're looking well."
"The Crimson Viper graces us with her presence."
She responded with perfect noble politeness.
Warm smiles, gracious nods, appropriate small talk.
But Marcus's emotional intelligence was screaming. Something was wrong.
Her smiles didn't reach her eyes. Her posture was perfect but rigid.
She spoke when spoken to but initiated nothing.
Vivienne Blackthorn was going through the motions. Present but not actually there.
"First time attending a duel?" she asked.
"Yes. Is it always this formal?"
"Noble duels are theater as much as combat. Everyone performing their assigned roles."
She gestured at the arena.
"The fighters prove their strength. The families demonstrate support. The audience judges worthiness."
"You've attended many?"
"Too many." The words carried weight.
"My late husband loved watching Damien compete. Now I attend alone."
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"Don't be. We divorced two years ago. He's not dead, just dead to me."
Marcus blinked at the bluntness.
Vivienne noticed his expression.
"Shocking the scandal-prone former drunk? I must be more bitter than I thought."
"I'm not shocked by divorce. I'm surprised you're so direct about it."
"Why waste energy on polite lies?" She looked at the arena.
"He had an affair. I left. Society gossiped. Life continued."
"That must have been difficult."
"It was Tuesday." Her voice was flat, emotionless.
"Shall we discuss something more pleasant? The weather is nice."
Marcus studied her carefully.
The legendary Crimson Viper. Famous adventurer.
Now a bored noble watching her son fight.
She looked like she'd rather be anywhere else.
"You're staring," Vivienne said.
"Sorry. I was trying to figure out if you actually want to be here."
She laughed. It sounded rusty, like she didn't do it often.
"Perceptive. No, I don't. But good mothers attend their children's important events."
"Even when those events bore them?"
"Especially then." She turned to look at him fully.
"You're different than your reputation suggests."
"I get that a lot lately."
"The old Marcus Aldridge wouldn't notice if someone was uncomfortable.
He'd be too busy being uncomfortable himself."
"People change."
"Do they? Or do they just pretend better?"
Marcus met her amber eyes. They were beautiful but empty.
Like looking at a painting of fire rather than actual flames.
"Sometimes pretending is all we can manage," he said carefully.
Vivienne's expression flickered.
Surprise? Recognition? "Careful, Lord Marcus. You almost sounded wise."
"I have moments of accidental wisdom."
"Treasure them. They're rare."
A horn blew. The duel was starting.
Theodore and Damien entered the arena from opposite sides.
Both wore training armor, both carried their preferred weapons.
The crowd cheered.
Theodore waved cheerfully. Damien nodded professionally.
"They're so young," Vivienne said quietly.
"Eighteen?"
"Young." She said it like a final judgment. "Young enough to think fighting proves something."
"Doesn't it?"
"It proves you can fight. Nothing more." She settled back in her seat. "But boys need to learn that themselves."
The referee, a senior professor, explained the rules.
First to yield, be disarmed, or leave the ring loses.
Lethal force forbidden. Excessive violence grounds for disqualification.
Theodore and Damien saluted each other.
The duel began.
Both fighters exploded into motion.
Steel clashed. Magic flared. The crowd roared approval.
Theodore fought like a force of nature, all instinct and raw power.
Damien countered with precision and strategy.
It was genuinely impressive.
Marcus found himself leaning forward, caught up in the spectacle.
Vivienne watched with the interest of someone observing paint dry.
"Your son is very skilled," Marcus offered.
"He is."
"You don't seem excited."
"I'm appropriately supportive." Her tone suggested she was reading from a script.
"But not excited."
"Should I be?" She glanced at him.
"Damien is doing what noble children do.
Compete, prove himself, prepare for his future role. It's all very proper and predictable."
"You sound bored."
"I am bored. I've been bored for ten years."
The admission hung between them. Vivienne looked surprised she'd said it out loud.
"Forget I said that," she added quickly.
"Why?"
"Because bored noble mothers don't complain.
We smile and attend functions and pretend our lives have meaning."
Marcus's life coach brain was working overtime.
This woman was in crisis. A severe identity crisis.
"When did you stop adventuring?" he asked.
Vivienne's head snapped toward him. "How did you know?"
"Countess Vivienne Blackthorn. The Crimson Viper. Legendary A-rank adventurer."
Marcus had done his research after learning who Damien's mother was.
"You retired fifteen years ago."
"Fourteen years, eight months." The precision was telling. "After I married."
"Did you want to retire?"
"I wanted to be a good wife and mother. That meant staying home."
"And now?"
"Now I'm neither wife nor adventurer. Just a title and a reputation I no longer use."
In the arena, Theodore and Damien were locked in intense combat.
The crowd was going wild.
Vivienne watched with dead eyes.
"I used to be someone important," she said quietly.
"Now I'm just Damien's mother.
The divorced countess. The retired legend who got soft."
Marcus didn't know what to say to that.
His usual life coach responses felt inadequate.
"Sorry," Vivienne said.
"I don't know why I'm telling you this.
Must be the excitement of watching children hit each other."
"Maybe you needed to tell someone."
"Maybe I need many things.
A new purpose. A time machine. A strong drink."
"I can't help with the first two, but there's wine at the reception."
She actually smiled. A real one this time.
"I'll hold you to that, Lord Marcus."
In the arena, Damien performed a spectacular move.
The crowd erupted.
Vivienne stood to applaud.
Appropriately proud mother. Perfect noble bearing.
Marcus saw right through it.
The legendary Crimson Viper was drowning in a life that no longer fit.
And nobody else seemed to notice.