Through the narrow window above the racks, Amadeus stood watching. His face was unreadable.
Abnet followed Lucian's gaze, then lowered his weapon. "Again," he said.
They resumed the drill, but the rhythm had shifted. Every motion felt careful now, deliberate. Lucian parried, stepped in, stepped back — but the air felt heavier than before.
When they finished the round, Lucian finally spoke. "Why'd he do that? Just stand there and watch?"
Abnet didn't look up from his stance. "He does that more often than you'd think."
Lucian frowned, spinning his staff once before catching it under his arm. "He could've said something. Given a word, a correction, anything. Guess he's too important for that, huh?"
Abnet's eyes flicked to him. "Still hoping he'll teach you himself?"
Lucian's grin faltered, but he tried to brush it off. "You're not a bad teacher, Abnet. It's just—"
"—you want to learn faster," Abnet finished for him, his tone calm but weighted.
