Steel clanged against steel in the training yard. Kael blocked Mika's blow, parried, twisted his wrist, and connected a clean touch to his opponent's flank.
"Point," Favius declared from the side, watching with his arms crossed.
Mika stepped back, breathing heavily. He had improved, they all had, but Kael... Kael was different. Faster. More precise. As if every move had been calculated three steps before execution.
"Again," Kael commanded, assuming the guard stance.
While Mika prepared for the next assault, Kael's mind wandered. Not completely—he never lost focus in combat—but enough to process what had happened yesterday.
A day earlier, Kael had found Sareth in the secondary library, hidden in a corner where the light barely reached. His younger brother was hunched over a book he clearly wasn't reading, his gaze lost on some distant point. 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 started, quickly closing the book.
"Kael. I... 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, his hands trembling slightly on the book cover. Kael sighed, adjusting his tone to something softer.
"Sareth. We're brothers. You can tell me."
Perhaps it was the tone. Or perhaps Sareth was too broken to keep holding it in. But he finally spoke. He told him everything. Cedric. Carmen. The garden. The blow. Rylan arriving like the perfect hero. Carmen leaving with him. Kael listened without interrupting, his face turned into a mask of concerned attention.
Inside, his mind raced at dizzying speed.
'Cedric. A minor noble with more ego than brains. Easy to manipulate.'
'Rylan. Playing the hero. Taking the girl. At that age of wanting to impress, of feeling lust for the first time.'
'Carmen. The servant girl my foolish brother left on a silver platter.'
'And Lyssara...'
That was the most interesting detail.
'Consoling Sareth. Showing kindness. She, who never shows kindness without reason.'
A small smile, barely a twitch of the lips, threatened to form. Kael suppressed it.
"I'm sorry, Sareth," he finally said, his voice perfectly modulated with compassion.
"That must have been... difficult."
Sareth nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
'Pathetic. But useful.'
Kael stood up, patting Sareth's shoulder.
"Rest. Things will get better."
And he left, leaving Sareth in his dark corner. But his mind was already three steps ahead.
Mika's blow came faster this time. Kael saw it, calculated it, and instead of blocking, he ducked, swept Mika's legs, and took him down.
"Point," Favius announced again, this time with a smile of approval.
Kael extended a hand, helping Mika up.
"You're improving."
"Not enough," Mika murmured, brushing the dust from his clothes.
"Yet," Kael smiled. "But you'll get there."
He turned to the rest of his group: six initiates in total, all younger than those training with Rylan, but loyal. Hungry. His.
"Ten-minute rest," he ordered.
"Then we continue with formations."
As they dispersed, Kael walked toward the edge of the yard to drink water from a 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 with deep circles under his eyes and wrinkled clothes, Kael blocked his path.
"Sareth. I need to talk to you."
Sareth looked at him with distrust.
"About what?"
"About Carmen. And about... other things."
They walked together toward the gardens, the same place where everything had happened. Sareth tensed as they approached, but Kael carefully guided him toward a different bench.
"Listen," Kael began in a casual tone.
"About Carmen. I'm sorry for what happened."
"You already said that yesterday."
"I know. But I want you to understand something," Kael paused, choosing his words.
"Carmen... she's not the only woman in the world. You're young. There will be many 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 toward him.
"And there's someone who already sees you."
Sareth blinked.
"What?"
"Lyssara."
The name dropped between them like a stone in still water.
"Lyssara?" Sareth looked at him as if he had said something absurd.
"Our sister?"
"She consoled you, didn't she? After the thing with Cedric," Kael tilted his head.
"Lyssara never consoles anyone. She's cold, calculating. But with you..." he paused, letting the implication hang. "She showed something different."
Sareth opened his mouth and closed it. His face was a canvas of confusion.
"I'm not saying it's anything romantic," Kael continued in a soft, almost thoughtful voice.
"But there's... concern. Special affection. Didn't you notice?"
"I... no. She was just..."
"Think about it," Kael stood up, patting Sareth's shoulder.
"Just think about it."
And he left, leaving Sareth with the seed planted. A seed of doubt, of possibility, of something that would reorient his attention away from Carmen.
'First move complete.'
The ten minutes were up. Kael's group was returning to the center of the yard when he noticed movement at the other end. Rylan's group. His older brother walked in front, tall and confident, effortlessly dominating the space.
'Second move.'
Kael smiled.
That morning, Rylan had woken up with the sun barely peeking over the horizon. His body moved automatically through his morning routine before dressing and heading to the dining hall. The hallway was quiet at that hour, only a few servants beginning their daily chores. But Rylan noticed something different. The maids.
When he passed two of them cleaning a window, both stopped. One smiled shyly and the other lowered her gaze but blushed visibly.
'Odd.'
Further on, another maid, Mira, the blacksmith's wife, practically flattened herself against the wall as he approached, her eyes wide and... admiring?
"Good morning, Lord Rylan," she murmured.
"Good morning," he replied, confused.
In the dining hall, Elyn was already sitting, drinking tea with that cold elegance she always maintained. Varen was not there, probably in his study since dawn.
"Rylan," Elyn greeted when he sat down.
"Mother."
Breakfast was served. Rylan ate in silence, noticing that the maids coming in and out looked at him more than usual. Small glances, fleeting smiles.
'What the hell...?'
"Rylan," Elyn's voice cut through his thoughts. Her tone was different. Worried.
"Yes?"
Elyn set down her cup, studying him.
"I need to ask you something. And I want honesty."
Rylan frowned.
"Of course."
"Are you... involved with anyone inappropriate?"
"What?" Rylan almost choked on his bread.
"What are you talking about?"
"The maids," Elyn lowered her voice, although it was just the two of them.
"They are commenting on things. About you and... certain young female staff."
Rylan felt heat rise up his neck.
"Mother, I'm not..."
"I understand you're at that age," Elyn continued with a serious expression.
"Hormones, impulses. It's natural. But you can't be with just any girl, Rylan. You are the heir of House Drayvar. Your reputation..."
"I am not with anyone inappropriate," Rylan interrupted, his voice louder than he intended.
"I don't know what comments you're talking about, but they are lies."
Elyn studied him.
"Maids don't usually invent these things without reason."
"Well, this time they did," Rylan stood up, leaving his breakfast half-finished.
"With your permission."
He left the dining hall with faster steps than normal. His mind raced.
'Comments? Where did they come from? I only helped Carmen, nothing more. Why are the maids...?'
And then it hit him.
'Someone is talking. Someone is planting these ideas.'
Cold fury settled in his chest.
'Who the hell is commenting on this nonsense?'
His steps led him directly to the training yard.
That same morning, Kael had arrived early at the yard, just as Rylan's group was beginning their routine. He positioned himself strategically close, far enough not to be an obvious nuisance, but close enough for his voice to carry.
"Did you hear?" Kael said to Favius in a casual but projected voice.
"Rylan rescued a servant girl yesterday. Quite the hero."
Favius, catching the tone, smiled.
"Ah, yes. Very noble."
"Noble," Kael repeated with a small laugh.
"Or maybe he just wanted to impress her. You know how it is at that age. Hormones. The desire to... conquer."
Another initiate laughed nervously.
"It's natural," Kael continued in a philosophical tone.
"A strong young man, probably thinking lustful thoughts, sees an opportunity to be the hero and earn a pretty girl's gratitude. I don't blame him."
Murmurs spread through his group. Some laughed, others nodded with masculine complicity. Across the yard, one of the older boys in Rylan's group had heard. He whispered something to another. That other one whispered to Rylan. Kael saw the exact moment Rylan tensed.
'Three... two... one...'
Rylan turned, and his long, furious strides crossed the yard. His group followed him, creating a wall of bodies behind him.
"Kael," Rylan's voice was dangerously calm.
"What the hell are you saying?"
Kael held up his hands with an innocent expression.
"Just conversing with my friends. Is there a problem?"
"You're talking garbage. About me."
"Garbage? No, brother. Just... observations," Kael smiled slightly.
"Didn't you rescue Carmen? Didn't you walk her back? It's admirable, really."
Kael's group positioned themselves around him. Not aggressively, but forming a silent barrier. Rylan noticed the movement and his jaw tightened.
"Careful, Kael. It doesn't matter how many children you have behind you. You're still weak."
"Perhaps," Kael shrugged.
"But the weak learn to fight differently."
Rylan took a step forward, moving his hand toward Kael, but Favius and Mika stepped between them. Not threateningly, just... present. Rylan stopped. He looked at Kael, then at the initiates, then back.
"Stay away from me," Rylan growled.
"And keep my name out of your mouth."
He turned to leave.
"Rylan," Kael called.
His brother stopped, not turning around.
"How about a duel?"
That made Rylan turn. His expression was a mixture of disbelief and amusement.
"What?"
"A duel. You and me," Kael smiled.
"Unless you're afraid."
Rylan laughed. A genuine, almost scornful laugh.
"Do you have any idea of the difference between us? I'm a Fifth-Layer Apprentice. You barely reach Second."
"That's why I suggest it be fair," Kael paused.
"No Aether. Only skill."
The yard fell silent. Rylan stared at him.
"No Aether?"
"Practice swords. First blood or surrender. No Aether," Kael tilted his head.
"Unless you need your power to beat a nine-year-old child."
The murmurs began. First from Kael's group, then spreading.
"Coward."
"He's afraid."
"He needs his Aether to win."
Rylan silenced them with a look. Then he returned his attention to Kael.
"If I accept this, and I win, which I will, you will apologize. Publicly. In front of everyone."
Kael nodded.
"Of course. But if I win..."
"You won't win."
"But if I do," Kael insisted, his smile never faltering,
"you'll have to grant a request of mine. Whatever I ask."
Rylan studied him. There was something in Kael's eyes. Something calculated. Dangerous. But pride was a powerful thing.
"Done," Rylan said.
"Tomorrow. Here. Noon."
He walked away, his group following him. Kael turned to his own group, and his smile widened.
'Second move complete.'
The training yard was more crowded than usual. Kael had strategically dropped the information, a word here, a mention there. "Duel between Kael and Rylan. Noon." He didn't mention the rules. He didn't mention the bet. He just let the anticipation build.
And there they were. Initiates, minor knights, servants who had found excuses to be near. Even a few nobles who had heard rumors. Kael's group was on one side of the yard, their voices loud with support.
"Kael is going to surprise them!"
"The little prodigy!"
"Technique over brute force!"
Others watched with curiosity, not fully understanding but intrigued by the spectacle.
'More people than normal. Perfect.'
On the edge of the yard, Kael noticed two important figures. Lyssara was leaning against a column, her arms crossed and expression inscrutable. Her eyes moved between Kael and Rylan with something that might have been suspicion. And next to her, Sareth. His younger brother looked at Lyssara differently now. Thoughtful. Considering.
'The seed is germinating.'
Kael felt a cold satisfaction spread through his chest. Master Torin appeared with his usual look of disgust.
"What is this circus?"
"A duel, Master Torin," Kael replied respectfully.
"Between my brother and me."
Torin grunted.
"Did Varen approve this?"
"Matters between brothers, sir. Just practice."
Torin looked at him with narrowed eyes, then sighed.
"Keep it clean. And if anyone loses a limb, that's your problem."
He moved away into the shade, but he didn't leave. He wanted to watch too.
Rylan entered the yard from the other end. He walked with the confidence of someone who knew they had already won. His practice sword hung casually from his hand. Kael's group erupted in cheers. The rest of the yard watched in expectant silence.
Kael walked toward the center. Rylan did the same. They stopped ten feet apart.
"Are you sure about this?" Rylan asked in a low but audible voice.
"You can still back out."
"And miss out on beating your younger brother in front of everyone?" Kael smiled.
"It 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 approached, standing between them.
"Rules. First blood or surrender. No Aether. Understood?"
Both nodded.
"No Aether?" someone in the crowd murmured.
"Why?"
"Kael asked for it," another replied.
"To make it fair."
"That's not fair. That's suicide."
Torin backed away.
"Positions."
Kael and Rylan raised their swords. The yard was silent now. Every eye fixed on the two brothers in the center. Kael took a deep breath, his mind crystal clear. Calculating. Evaluating.
'I don't need to win. I only need to...'
Torin raised his hand.
"Begin."
His hand dropped. And the world moved.