The young duke shook off the guard's grip, angry that someone would steal his present. It was the same guard that stood behind his chair when he ate mounds of pastries.
"Who do you think you are?" the king said. "You would refuse my child his own present for his birthday?"
"My lord, you—" the guard hesitated. "You intend to give him the dark blade?"
"And if I am?"
"That blade is unholy and cursed. Whoever would wield that blade would be killed or taken by their own hands. There is not one person that lives when they touch that damned sword."
"He's right, my lord," the courtier pleaded nervously. "This blade cannot be wielded, even by the finest swordsman. It was a miracle that we had contained the blade before anybody else of Falden could be hurt."
"How amusing," the king folded his arms. "Are you saying my boy is incapable of a sword that's been built by superstition?"
"My lord, even our highest ranking of mages cannot decipher this type of magic. It's—something extraordinary that exceeds our perception of mana."
The guard closed the case. "I refuse this gift for the duke, for the sake of his life, and the promise of his prosperity."
"But I accept!" the young duke shouted. "I accept his gift in the honor of my birthday!"
The king bellowed in a deep laughter, making everyone else feel a sense of discomfort.
"Thank you, father! I always wanted to learn the ways of a sword!"
The king smiled. "Have the blade ready in his name. Anybody who wishes to oppose my order, will have their head on display."
The courtier moved reluctantly, following the king's order as a guard followed him. The rest continued to follow the king and his son to the royal courtyard.
"Where are they taking my sword?" the young duke asked. "Could I not hold it at least once?"
"Not yet," his father said. "Your mana control is more blunt than anyone I've ever seen. At the age of nine, you should have already sorted that out."
"But…I'm eleven."
The king coldly glanced at his son. "Yes, you are eleven. But do not worry, my boy, the blade will be given to you once you pass all of your lessons. I've personally hired the most professional instructors throughout Falden. There is not a chance you will ever fail!"
The young duke grumbled under his breath. He always hated training, especially when other people he didn't know would tell him what to do. He's had so much fun running around with the guards, he would rather prefer that than endure another month of training. And mana? He's tired of it. Training mana especially was more exhausting than anything physical that he's had to face.
But if it meant working towards that birthday sword, then he would at least put some effort nowadays.
They stopped before the steps into the royal courtyard. It must have been a few hours into the morning, due to the light winds and the gleaming sun over the castle towers. There were many guards already present, standing in their post along with others on the second floor just over.
The courtyard was somewhere the young duke loved to run around. He'd dip his hands into the fountains and roll over the beautiful flowers in the garden. Despite being reprimanded many times, he was the duke and they couldn't argue against his authority. The guards would even carry him around so he could watch the horizon at their height.
Then just at the end, walking up the steps, was a large group of people. The young duke realized this must be the crowned royal of Wilmere, the Gray family. The king and his queen, and their young daughter were accompanied by a row of armed guards. But these weren't any guards that the young duke was familiar with. It was like every guard was more unique than the last, like knights and mages alike banded together.
These knights weren't wearing the same dark armor like the guards of Falden. They wore armor and clothing that felt suited to their class. There were warriors, with heavy metal and gleaming swords. A lone mage, wearing a thick cloak and held a magical staff. And a couple of others that wore a hood, covering their face but the young duke could make out the daggers at their belt.
"The Roundtable," Van hissed, popping beside him. "I can't believe that fool brought all of them."
"Van," the king stared ahead. "How many of our Dark Knights could kill them all?"
"My lord, the Roundtable isn't something to be underestimated."
"I said, how many?"
"Five Roundtable Knights…this would be a hard estimate, but at least twenty Dark Knights would be killed in the fight."
"And how many do we have now?"
"At this moment, only eight."
"Eight," the king scoffed. "Tell them to stay vigilant."
Van bowed his head.
The king of Wilmere stopped just at the end of the steps, presenting his line of combat. His wife and daughter hid behind the Knights as he stood proudly in front.
There was a silence as looks were exchanged. The young duke could feel hundreds of eyes staring right through him as he stood beside his father. He wondered if any of his guards felt uneasy like him. He was only a small kid whenever he met the king of Wilmere again. He recalled it wasn't a pleasant experience.
Then the two kings walked towards the center just before the flowing fountain of water. Their talk was small and too quiet for the young duke to hear. They would shake hands, laugh, and glance towards their family. After minutes of waiting, the Falden king waved at his son to come.
The young duke walked forward, trying to imitate his father in a way. After awkwardly messing his stride and stumbling, he made it behind his father.
"Hello, boy," the king of Wilmere said. "Lex, was it?"
The young duke bowed his head, surprised that someone had called him by his real name.
His father patted him on the back roughly. "It isn't common for you to be so quiet, boy, show some formality."
"King of Wilmere," the young duke shouted proudly. "It is the best of my pleasure to meet you again!"
The king of Wilmere laughed. "Yes, yes, it's great meeting you, young Lex. But I believe you haven't had the chance to meet Alice, my daughter."
A girl peeked behind him. Her light blonde hair was braided in a laurel, a royal fashion, and she wore clothing similar to the uniform of the Roundtable Knights. Her sparkling grey eyes were curious, as if she was studying the young duke.
"My name is Alice Gray," she bowed her head softly. "Princess of the Wilmere kingdom, daughter of Alexander Gray."
Alexander gestured his hand. "Shall we?"
The young duke's father adjusted his coat. "Well, you have convinced me that you haven't come here for conflict despite bringing your brigade of the Roundtable. Then yes, call your herald and we shall talk."
The two kings walked away, leaving the two alone. The guards continued to stand behind the young duke's father as a few Roundtable Knights did the same for Alexander. More people came into view which the young duke assumed was just more talking that he shouldn't care about.
"I'm Alice," she reached out her hand. "What about you?"
"Lex." he shook it. "Lex Korbren."
"How old are you?"
"Eleven."
"I'm thirteen."
The young duke didn't know how to respond to that.
And neither could Alice add anything after.
"I like swimming in here," the young duke pointed to the fountain. "It's cold but the guards let me do what I want."
"Does your father ever get mad at you for that?"
The young duke frowned. "No, not really."
"What about your mother?"
"My mother," he looked away. "She's not allowed to see me."