The world moved.
Rylan attacked first: fast, lethal, years of training condensed into a single blow aimed at Kael's shoulder. His practice sword cut the air with a sharp whistle.
Kael saw it coming. He lunged sideways and the blow passed inches from his head. He rolled, getting up on guard.
"Fast," someone murmured in the crowd.
Rylan wasted no time. He advanced with a three-strike combination—high, low, middle—each faster than the last. Kael blocked the first, dodged the second, but the third connected with his side. Explosive pain. Kael felt something crunch, not break, but close. He backed away, panting.
"First blood for Rylan!" someone shouted.
But there was no blood. Only the brutal impact of wood against flesh. Rylan pressed his advantage. His movements were perfect, forms polished by years of practice with Master Torin. Each blow calculated to incapacitate, not kill, but definitely to win.
Kael was retreating. Blocking, dodging, surviving.
'I can't beat him on skill. But I don't need to.'
He blocked another strike, the impact vibrating through his arms. He took two more steps back.
"Is that all?" Rylan asked in a firm voice.
"I thought you wanted a duel."
Kael smiled. Small. Cold.
"I'm just warming up."
He counter-attacked with a quick blow toward Rylan's legs. His brother blocked it easily and riposted with a strike Kael barely dodged. Steel clashed against steel. The crowd watched in tense silence. Kael waited for his moment. He blocked. He backed away. He blocked again. And he spoke.
"Is that how you fight when you want to impress girls?"
Rylan frowned at him.
"What?"
"I'm saying," Kael dodged another strike,
"this whole spectacle. Is it for anyone in particular?"
Rylan attacked harder.
"Shut up and fight."
"It worked with Carmen, didn't it?" Kael blocked and weakly counter-attacked.
"The heroic rescue. Very impressive."
Rylan's next blow came faster. Less controlled. Kael felt it: the first crack in his discipline.
"I told you to shut up."
"Or what?" Kael backed away, his smile widening.
"You'll hit me harder? You're already doing that."
Rylan growled, attacking with a combination that forced Kael back to the edge of the combat area. The crowd backed away.
"Go Rylan!"
"Finish him!"
But other voices began to emerge. From Kael's group, strategically scattered in the crowd.
"Typical," Favius said loudly enough.
"He uses his strength to impress."
"What are they talking about?" someone whispered.
"Don't you know?" Mika replied.
"Rylan rescued a maid. Very convenient."
Kael dodged another blow and counter-attacked, landing a touch on Rylan's arm. Not strong, but enough.
"Woman thief," Kael said in a casual voice, as if commenting on the weather.
Rylan stopped.
"What did you say?"
"Thief," Kael spun his sword.
"Woman-snatcher. Or do you prefer bastard?"
Rylan's face hardened.
"I didn't steal anything."
"Didn't you?" Kael tilted his head.
"Then what was it? You saved her from Cedric just out of kindness?"
He attacked quickly, taking advantage of the distraction. His sword hit Rylan's shoulder. Rylan didn't even feel it. He counter-attacked with renewed fury, his blows raining down on Kael like hail. Each one wilder than the last.
"I saved her because it was the right thing to do!"
"Sure," Kael blocked and backed away.
"And her being pretty had nothing to do with it."
"You're a...!"
Rylan's blow crashed against Kael's guard with such force that it threw him backward. Kael rolled and got up with blood dripping from his lip where he had bitten himself.
First real blood. The crowd roared.
"That son of a bitch stole her from Fabricio!" shouted someone from Kael's group.
"Fabricio?" someone else murmured.
"Yes! The maid! He took her from the one she was with!"
"That thief took her to sleep with her!"
The murmurs spread like fire. Voices mixing, comments growing.
"Is that true?"
"I heard there was someone else first..."
"Rylan used his position..."
"But he's the heir, he can do whatever he wants, right?"
"That doesn't make him less of a bastard."
Rylan heard everything. Every word. Every accusation.
"Lies!" he yelled toward the crowd.
"It's all bloody lies!"
But his concentration was gone. His attacks, once precise, were now erratic. Powerful, yes, each blow could break bones, but predictable.
Kael saw it. He felt it.
'There it is.'
He dodged a wild blow. He counter-attacked, connecting with Rylan's ribs. Hard. Rylan grunted in pain but pressed on.
"Have you slept with her yet?" Kael asked in a poisonous voice.
"Or are you still courting her?"
"SHUT UP!"
Rylan's shout echoed throughout the courtyard. And his Aether ignited. Electric blue, bright and instinctive. Small sparks danced around his hands, around his sword. His next blow came charged with energy that shouldn't have been there.
The courtyard fell silent. Kael saw him approaching, faster than humanly possible without Aether. He raised his sword to block. The impact was devastating. Kael's practice sword snapped in two. The force of the blow lifted him off the ground and threw him ten feet back. He landed hard, the air knocked out of his lungs.
For a second, no one moved. Then Rylan looked at his hands. The Aether still glowed faintly around his fingers. Horror crossed his face.
"I... I used Aether," his voice barely a whisper.
"I broke the rules."
His sword fell to his side. His guard disappeared. He stood there, processing what he had done.
'I lost. I cheated. I lost the duel.'
Honor, that damned honor Varen had instilled in him since childhood, paralyzed him.
Kael got up slowly. Blood dripped from his nose, mixing with the blood from his lip. His side screamed in agony. Bruises already forming on his arms, his back. But his mind was clear. Crystal clear. He picked up a spare practice sword from the ground that someone had left nearby.
His own Aether ignited. Second-layer Apprentice, weak compared to Rylan's, barely a faint glow around his hands. But enough. He charged the sword with what he could. The weapon trembled slightly with pale blue energy. Rylan looked up. He saw Kael approaching. He saw the intention. But he did not raise his sword. He did not defend himself.
'I lost the duel. It is his right.'
Kael closed the distance in three steps. And he struck.
The Aether-charged sword crashed against the side of Rylan's head with a sickeningly audible crack. Rylan fell like a puppet with cut strings. Unconscious before he hit the ground.
Absolute silence. Kael stood there, breathing heavily, blood on his face, sword still in hand. Then someone shouted.
"WINNER!"
"KAEL WON!"
But other voices:
"Wait, he used Aether too..."
"But Rylan used it first..."
"They both cheated!"
"Rylan broke the rules first!"
Kael's group took control.
"KAEL WON!" Favius roared.
"The heir cheated first!"
"RYLAN WAS THE CHEATER!"
"KAEL! KAEL! KAEL!"
The chant grew. It spread. The crowd, that living, malleable thing, was swept away by the moment.
"Kael won!"
"He defeated the heir!"
"Incredible!"
The details were lost in the noise. Who had used Aether first, under what circumstances, whether the duel had been fair; none of that mattered now. Only the image mattered: Rylan on the ground, Kael standing. Winner and loser.
Master Torin pushed his way through the crowd with a stormy expression. He looked at the unconscious Rylan, then at Kael.
"Both broke the rules," he declared, his voice cutting through the noise.
"Both used Aether."
A pause. The courtyard waited.
"But Rylan used it first."
Another pause, heavier.
"The duel goes to Kael."
And with those words, the narrative was sealed. No matter the protests, the doubts, the questions. Master Torin, an authority, had declared the result. The roar that followed was deafening.
Lyssara watched from the periphery with her arms crossed so tightly her knuckles were white. She had seen everything. Every calculated insult. Every designed provocation. How Kael had used the crowd as a weapon. How he had pushed and pushed until Rylan lost control. And then he had taken advantage.
'That cheater.'
Her mind raced:
'Calculated provocation. Insults to destabilize. The crowd as a weapon. He pushed Rylan until he broke the rules. And then...'
'That dirty one.'
She saw Kael in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by admirers. She saw the blood on his face, the bruises forming. She saw the barely contained satisfaction in his eyes.
'He didn't win with strength. He won with... this.'
She couldn't decide if she was impressed or horrified. Perhaps both.
'It doesn't make sense. Rylan is better. Stronger. How...?'
But she understood. Of course she understood.
'He didn't win the duel. He won the narrative.'
She saw Rylan being helped to sit up by two guards. Blood dripped from his temple where Kael's sword had connected. He was conscious but stunned, his eyes unfocused.
'Kael is more dangerous than I thought.'
She walked away before anyone noticed her expression.
"Two guards! Take him to the infirmary!" Torin ordered.
Two men approached, helping Rylan to his feet. His older brother staggered with a hand on his head. Blood stained his fingers. His eyes found Kael across the celebrating crowd. Humiliation. Fury. Incomprehension.
'He manipulated me. He provoked me until... until...'
Kael held his gaze. No smile. No taunt. Just... looking. Rylan was led out of the courtyard, every step faltering. The crowd parted to let him pass, some with pity in their eyes, others with something darker. Satisfaction at seeing the powerful fall.
Kael remained in the center of the training courtyard. His group surrounded him first: Favius, Mika, the other initiates, their voices loud with celebration.
"You did it!"
"You defeated the heir!"
"No one had done that before!"
"You're incredible!"
Claps on the back that made his bruises protest. Fists raised. Laughter of victory. Then others approached. Initiates who were not part of his group. Some minor knights. Even servants who had stayed to watch the spectacle. All wanting to be near the one who had done the impossible.
"How did you do it?"
"I thought Rylan was invincible..."
"Kael Drayvar! Remember that name!"
Kael let the words wash over him. He didn't smile widely, that would be too much. Just a small, controlled smile. The smile of someone who had won but remained humble. Inside, the satisfaction was a living thing. Warm and intoxicating.
'I succeeded.'
His body ached. Every breath was agony in his side. Dry blood cracked on his face. Bruises would bloom tomorrow in shades of purple and yellow. But he had won.
He looked at the faces around him. Faces that used to ignore him, that saw him as the invisible younger son. The weak one. The one who didn't matter. Now they looked at him differently. With respect. With caution. With something that might have been fear.
'They see me.'
The crowd continued celebrating. Recreating moments of the duel, exaggerating some details, inventing others.
"Did you see when he dodged that blow? Incredible!"
"And when Rylan used Aether, I thought it was all over..."
"But Kael got up. Like a demon."
"A demon," someone else repeated, testing the word.
The stories were already beginning to change. To grow. To transform into legend. And Kael knew that by dinner, everyone in the manor would know. By tomorrow, the vassals would be whispering. By the following week, the news would reach other territories.
'Kael Drayvar beat Rylan Drayvar in a duel.'
The details would be lost. The provocations, the dirty tactics, who had used Aether first. Only the result would remain.
Victory.
Master Torin watched from the shadow of a column with his arms crossed. His expression was indecipherable, neither approval nor displeasure. Just... evaluation. Kael met his gaze for a moment. Torin nodded once. Small. Barely perceptible.
Recognition.
The afternoon sun bathed the courtyard in golden light. The crowd continued celebrating, their voices mixing into an indistinct roar of triumph. And Kael Drayvar stood in the center. Bleeding. Bruised. Victorious. No longer invisible. No longer forgotten.
Finally seen. The recognition tasted of iron and satisfaction. Of blood and victory. And he knew, with absolute certainty, that it had been worth it. Every damned second had been worth it.