Chapter 26 - Game Start
The stone hallways of Castle Ravenstone stretch endlessly before us, dimly lit by torches flickering in their sconces. Cain walks a step behind Count Ashland, his usual easygoing demeanor nowhere to be found. I trail beside him, silent, thoughts churning in frustration.
This is bullshit.
I can't believe I've been roped into a duel with some noble's kid. Worse still, I can't even control my powers. This Howard Vincent, whoever he is, has likely been training since the moment he awakened, pampered by tutors and knights, learning to wield his abilities, and I highly doubt his trigger is as damn egregious as mine is.
Count Ashland's voice breaks through my bitter thoughts.
"You'll love Howard," he says, his tone thick with pride. Truly a remarkable young man. I always knew my son would be a better man than me. Hah! But to become an elite It's beyond my expectations; my family tree has had so few awakened I could count them on two hands. When the Inquisitors confirmed it, I could hardly contain myself. A father's dream realized."
Cain nods, his expression carefully blank. "Yes, it's quite the accomplishment," he says evenly.
The count chuckles, either not noticing or choosing to ignore Cain's tone. "Indeed! He's been training rigorously under the finest warriors Lont has to offer. Doing everything in our power to make him prepared for the academy in Lusa. That's why I'm requesting your assistance, Cain; even if I could only secure you for a month, who better than you to train my boy?"
I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes.
We descend a grand staircase, the air growing crisper as we near the lower levels of the castle. The sound of clashing metal drifts through an arched doorway, and as we step through, the sight of the training grounds sprawls before us. A massive courtyard, enclosed by towering stone walls, the ground packed dirt rather than grass. Several groups of soldiers practice their drills with each other.
A small group stands off to the side, three figures engaged in quiet conversation. Count Ashland strides toward them without pause, and Cain and I follow at a measured pace. My stomach twists tighter with every step this day as dragged on longer than my entire life, holy shit.
As we draw near, the count gestures us forward. "Come, let me introduce you properly."
The first figure he motions to is a boy, slightly taller than me, with broad shoulders and well-defined muscles. He's clearly been trained from a young age, his stance firm and practiced. Brown hair, like his father, but his eyes are sharp, assessing me with interest.
"This is my son, Howard Vincent," the count says with obvious pride. "An Awakened, just like you both, and soon to attend the Academy in Lusa at the end of the year alongside you, Ayato."
Howard inclines his head in acknowledgment but says nothing. His gaze lingers on me curious and with respect.
The count then motions to the towering man beside his son. "And this—Lieutenant Kirper."
The man is a bloody mountain. Broad, thickly muscled, standing easily at 6'5". Yet, despite his massive frame, his blue eyes are warm, kind even. His presence is commanding but not oppressive. He nods toward Cain and me.
"Awakened Cain. Awakened Daath," he greets, voice deep but lacking hostility. "It's good to finally meet you both." "I was away the last time you were at the castle Awakened Cain"
Cain nods back, offering a polite, "Lieutenant."
I mimic the motion, though my thoughts remain turbulent. This whole situation is giving me a headache, and I'm sure it's only going to get worse.
The count then gestures to the third man, who stands a few steps behind Kirper. "And this is Sergeant Blake."
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Blake is shorter than Kirper, around six feet tall, but no less imposing. His build is solid, the kind that speaks of years of combat training. A long scar stretches down across his face, cutting harshly through his otherwise stern features. His gaze is sharp and assessing as he nods respectfully in our direction.
Lieutenant Kirper steps forward, folding his arms across his broad chest. "Now, onto the duel. Here's how it will work." His tone is even but firm. "If Sir Cain would be kind enough to use his wind magic to coat the blades with a thin layer of his power, we will use real swords instead of wooden ones. The wind layer will prevent fatal injuries, making the duel more realistic without being lethal, as I'm sure you both already know."
Cain just nods in agreement. That's how we trained, so it didn't really make a difference to him.
"The duel will last until first blood, a concession, or if either I or Sergeant Blake calls for it to end," Kirper continues. "Powers are allowed, but if we tell you to stop, you will stop. We do not need any accidents." His gaze hardens as he looks between Howard and me. "Do you both understand?
Howard nods once, his expression calm and composed. "Understood."
I cross my arms. "Yeah, sure, I agree. But my weapon was confiscated at the gate," I say, irritation creeping into my voice.
Sergeant Blake steps forward, pointing toward a nearby weapon rack. "No issue. You may choose one from here."
He leads me over, and I scan the selection. A variety of blades, from broadswords to rapiers, rest in their slots. I pick up a longsword first, testing the weight, but it feels too bulky in my grip. I swap it for a rapier, but it's too light and weird. Finally, my fingers close around a common saber. I give it a few test swings, feeling the balance.
I flex my wrist, tightening my grip. "This will do, I suppose."
Before I can rejoin them, Cain steps forward. "Give us a moment," he says to the count.
Ashland waves a hand enthusiastically. "Of course! Take your time." He turns back to Kirper and Howard, already hyping his son up.
Cain leads me a few steps away, lowering his voice. "Sorry you're getting the full treatment of Avrael's politics so soon."
I roll my eyes in disgust. "Yeah, well, not much choice, is there?" I glance at him. "Now, are you going to tell me what the hell a Spellbreaker is?"
Cain's eyes narrow slightly, a glint of fury flashing across them before his mask of indifference returns. "That's a conversation for another time."
I scoff but let it drop. "Fine. What then?"
"Don't let the last two months of training go to waste," Cain says. His voice is even, but there's a rare edge of encouragement beneath it. "Regardless of how long Howard has been training with the LT or other soldiers, if you believe in yourself and follow the foundations of the Aether Flow, you will be fine."
He hesitates, then adds, "However, be wary of his mark of power. We don't know what it is. And you..." He chuckles. "Unless you feel a great amount of hate, you won't be able to use your own."
I let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Already being kneecapped by my own abilities."
Cain shrugs. "Well, no pressure or anything, but do try to win. Ayato, don't think that the outcome of this and the abilities you show won't be passed to the Crown." "Count Ashland may seem like a friendly man, but he is deeply loyal to the King. Make no mistake that this little duel was most likely something the King wanted to happen to gauge your skill before you arrive in the capital."
I sigh, gripping the saber a little tighter. What a pain in the ass.
Together, we walk back toward the group. The few soldiers who had been training before have stepped back off the field recognizing the significance of what was about to happen, their curious gazes now fixed on us.
As Cain and the rest of the group steps back. Howard steps forward walking towards the middle of the courtyard, unsheathing his sword.
The duel is about to begin.