Chapter 28 - Day Two
The next afternoon, I find myself pacing around Cain's room, irritation boiling beneath my skin. "It's bullshit," I snap. 'Why are we forced to spend a month here?" "Forcing you to train the nobles brat."
Cain, stretched out lazily on his bed, doesn't even look up. "Mmm."
I scowl at him. "That's all you've got? Mmm?"
He shifts slightly, resting his head on his arms, barely cracking an eye open. "What do you want me to say? Yeah, it sucks. I'm still not quite over Ashland going over my head, forcing my hand," "But at least it'll allow me to dedicate a full month to helping you find a way to control your trigger without my duties limiting us to a few hours a day, so it's not all bad."
I scoff. "Make the best of it? Not all bad? With Count Prickland smiling at us like he's the perfect host? Like he didn't just force me into some ridiculous pissing contest with his son?" I shake my head, pacing faster. "I hate guys like that. Acting all nice, talking like they're so damn reasonable. It's fake. It's always fake."
My fists clench as I think back to yesterday.
After Howard hit the ground and stayed there, the whole group had rushed to his side, their concern drowning out the stunned silence from the rest of the courtyard. When the medics checked him over, the damage was clear—cracked ribs, a fractured arm from where he landed. I had kicked him that hard. Oops.
Sergeant Blake had turned on me, fury darkening his face. "You scum," he spat. "You don't beat an opponent into the dirt like that in a sparring match! You were supposed to hold back!"
I cock my head, utterly unbothered. "If I wasn't holding back, he'd be dead."
SGT Blake's entire body tensed, his body shaking with suppressed anger. If looks could kill, I'd have dropped dead on the spot.
Before he could explode, Count Ashland placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Enough," he said, his voice calm but commanding. He looked down at his son, then sighed. "This duel wasn't about winning or losing. It was about showing Howard how much he needs to adapt, how much he still has to learn. The Academy will be far harsher than this."
He turned to me then, his expression unreadable. "I don't hold any ill will toward you, Ayato. I understand why you were upset. You were thrown into this without warning."
I narrowed my eyes, waiting for the but.
Instead, he just smiled, that same polite, professional smile. "I only hope that, in time, you and Howard might find some way to become friends before you both depart for Lusa.
I laughed under my breath at that. Yeah, sure, friends.
The medics had helped Howard to his feet, supporting him as they carried him toward the castle. The Count had turned back to us one last time. "Come. Let's get you both to your new rooms."
***********
Cain's voice cuts through my thoughts. "You did go overboard, though."
Pulled from my spiraling frustration, I glance over at him. He's sitting up now, his easygoing demeanor gone, replaced by a stern look on his face. "You beat the shit out of someone who just awakened a few weeks ago." 'When I said to try to win, I didn't mean win that well."
I sneer. "I also just awakened."
Cain exhales sharply through his nose, rubbing his temples before leveling me with an annoyed look. "That's not the same, and you know it. I've been training you on how to get used to your new body for months. You can't let your anger take over like that again. It's a recipe for disaster."
I scoff, crossing my arms. "Well, you know, I've been thinking about it." I lean against the wall, smirking. "The Inquisitors seem to think I'm the gods' will manifested. As much as I hate those fuckers, it does mean I have something going for me." I smirk. "The fact that no one can do anything to me without direct permission from the king or them haha? That's a nice little shield to have; the inquisitors would also probably riot if some punk noble did something to me. I'm not naïve; I see how they act around me, and as much as it disgusts me, it's useful to an extent. And also let's be real with each other, the Imperial family wouldn't be too happy if the first Three-Mark Bearer in history was abused or, I don't know, killed or something." I chuckle darkly. "It's a win-win for me. I get to be my normal self, and the rich douchebags can't do squat about it."
Cain just sighs, shaking his head as he mutters, "Why do I even bother?"
Cain flops back onto his bed with a groan. "Alright, leave me alone now. I'm napping."
I arch a brow. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, seriously." He shifts to get comfortable, draping an arm over his eyes. "We're starting lessons later this afternoon, and apparently, Awakened Manahar is actually coming tonight to heal Howard so he can actually participate in training and not spend the month in bandages."
That catches my attention. "Your superior's mark of power is healing magic?"
Cain just grunts in affirmation. "The only reason he's even stationed here is because he racked up so many accomplishments during his time fighting, or better term, saving lives that the King granted his request to have an easy post for a few years."
Before I can ask anything else, he suddenly sits up, takes off one of his boots, and throws it at me. "Go now, bastard! Let me sleep."
I dodge it easily, laughing as I slip out the door, closing it behind me.
Stepping into the hallway, I stretch. With nothing else to do, I might as well walk around and explore this damn place. My feet move without thought as I pass through the brightly lit corridors of Castle Ravenstone. The moment I step into view, servants and guards alike lower their heads in hurried bows, avoiding eye contact as I pass. Seems like the news of my fights with Howard has spread throughout the staff.
As I continue down the hall, something catches my eye: a large mirror set within an ornate gold frame inside an open doorway. I pause, stepping into the room without thinking.
The reflection staring back at me is striking.
My jet-black hair, tousled but neat, framed a face of sharp angles and defined lines. My bright violet eyes stand out like embers in the dark, cold yet alive with something untamed. Dressed in all black, my Elite robe clasped at my neck. I almost look... regal.
A rare case of vanity flickers through me as I appraise myself. I look completely different from my scrawny self a few months ago.
Would my parents even recognize me if they were here? The thought slips in before I can stop it.
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The idea twists something deep in my chest. I don't look like the young boy they knew, who then grew up in the outskirts, who fought for scraps and crawled back to the small hut I called home covered in dirt. That boy was smaller, frail, and beaten down by life before it even truly began. Now, I stand here, clad in the robes of an Elite, my posture straight, my expression cold.
Would they see their son? Or just another Awakened, another agent of the Empire who never gave a damn about us? That killed them?
The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I shake my head, clearing it. It's pointless to think about things that don't matter anymore. The past is dead. They're dead. And I'm here. That's all there is to it.
Exhaling slowly, I step away from the mirror, my cloak shifting around me as I move. I refocus on my original goal—getting outside. The castle is a maze of corridors, and I don't have the patience to ask a servant for help. My boots tap on the carpeted floor as I walk, making almost no noise, eyes scanning for the familiar curve of the staircase that leads to the courtyard.