The palace training grounds felt different during winter mornings.
Colder.
Quieter.
The usual noise of drills and shouted commands seemed softer beneath the pale sky. Frost clung lightly to the edges of wooden practice dummies while thin clouds drifted slowly overhead.
Rudura adjusted the grip on his practice sword and exhaled softly.
Haaah…
His breath fogged in front of him.
The cold no longer bothered him much.
Months of winter training had solved that.
Or perhaps damaged his sense of comfort permanently.
Honestly, either explanation worked.
He stepped forward.
Shua!
The wooden blade cut cleanly through the air.
Again.
Shua! Shua!
Controlled movement.
Balanced footing.
Smooth recovery.
Not flashy.
Just disciplined.
Rudura continued practicing quietly while several distant trainees worked on spear drills near the opposite side of the courtyard.
The morning atmosphere remained calm.
For once, no Malavatas.
Which automatically improved the day.
Rudura lowered his sword briefly.
"…Peaceful."
"Talking to yourself again?"
Rudura turned slightly at the familiar voice.
A young palace trainee approached from the side entrance carrying two wooden practice swords across one shoulder.
Raghav.
Rudura recognized him immediately.
They trained together occasionally years ago during earlier palace instruction periods before examinations and specialized schedules separated everyone more heavily.
Raghav stopped nearby and grinned faintly.
"You disappeared after the exams."
Rudura shrugged.
"I live here."
"You know what I mean."
"…Fair."
Raghav tossed one of the wooden swords lightly toward him.
Rudura caught it automatically.
"Still training every morning?"
"Mostly."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It usually is."
Raghab laughed quietly before stretching his shoulders.
He looked older now compared to earlier years.
Not dramatically.
Just sharper around the edges.
Military training did that to people.
Rudura rested the practice sword against one shoulder.
"You're assigned to the eastern trainee division now, right?"
"Unfortunately."
"That bad?"
"The commanders wake us before sunrise because apparently suffering builds character."
"…Malavatas says the exact same thing."
Raghav immediately looked sympathetic.
"…You win."
"Obviously."
They both laughed softly.
The conversation felt easy.
Normal.
Which honestly felt refreshing after days spent analyzing human psychology through Échecs Humains.
For a little while, Rudura almost forgot about the book entirely.
Almost.
Raghav spun his wooden sword casually once.
"So."
"So?"
"You passed the examinations?"
Rudura nodded once.
"Seems like it."
"'Seems like it,' he says."
Rudura smirked slightly.
"The official announcement already happened."
"Yeah, and half the palace spent three days talking about it."
"That sounds exaggerated."
"It really isn't."
Rudura frowned faintly.
"…People seriously talk that much?"
"You're the prince."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"It answers everything."
Rudura sighed quietly.
Unfortunately, Raghav wasn't wrong.
The trainee rolled one shoulder lazily before stepping toward the practice area.
"Spar?"
Rudura raised an eyebrow.
"This early?"
"You're already training."
"…Fair enough."
They moved toward the center of the courtyard while distant trainees continued their own drills nearby.
Nothing intense.
Just practice.
Raghav adjusted his stance first.
Rudura immediately noticed improvement.
Better balance.
Less wasted movement.
More controlled posture.
"Not bad," Rudura admitted.
Raghav grinned.
"I'll accept that miracle of praise."
"Don't get emotional."
"Too late."
Then both moved simultaneously.
Tak!
Wood struck wood sharply.
Raghav pushed forward first with a quick diagonal strike.
Rudura blocked smoothly and stepped sideways.
Tak! Tak!
Another exchange followed immediately.
Fast.
Clean.
The cold air sharpened every sound around them.
Raghav attacked aggressively compared to earlier years.
More confident.
Less hesitant.
Rudura responded naturally.
Controlled.
Efficient.
After several exchanges, Raghav suddenly stepped back with a small laugh.
"…You got even more annoying."
"How encouraging."
"No seriously. Your timing's ridiculous now."
Rudura shrugged lightly.
"Training."
"Yeah well, some of us enjoy having functional joints."
They resumed sparring again.
This time slightly faster.
Several nearby trainees started glancing toward them occasionally.
Rudura barely noticed at first.
His focus stayed on movement.
Footwork.
Distance.
Timing.
Raghav attacked high.
Rudura redirected smoothly and countered lightly against his shoulder.
Tak.
Point scored.
Raghav groaned immediately.
"See? Annoying."
"You left your guard open."
"I noticed."
Another exchange followed.
Then another.
Eventually Raghav lowered his sword with a long exhale.
"…Alright, enough. I'd like to preserve at least some dignity today."
Rudura laughed quietly and lowered his own weapon.
"You improved though."
Raghav rolled his eyes.
"That compliment feels illegal after losing repeatedly."
Rudura opened his mouth to answer
then paused slightly.
Something in Raghav's tone caught his attention.
Not bitterness.
Not anger.
Just…
something smaller.
A slight tightness beneath the humor.
Rudura noticed it instantly now.
And because he noticed it
he couldn't stop noticing it.
Raghav leaned the wooden sword against one shoulder again while catching his breath.
"Honestly though," he admitted, "you're way ahead now."
Rudura frowned slightly.
"…We train differently."
"Sure."
Raghav smiled casually.
But this time Rudura caught the tiny hesitation behind it.
The comparison.
Small.
Human.
Almost invisible.
Yet suddenly obvious.
And immediately
Rudura remembered Chapter II.
Men compare themselves most fiercely to those closest to them.
The thought appeared automatically now.
Rudura almost hated that.
Because before reading the book
this conversation would have stayed simple.
Now layers kept appearing underneath ordinary interaction.
Raghav continued casually:
"Most of us are still trying to survive instructor rotations while you're studying under monsters like Malavatas."
"That sounds dramatic."
"It's accurate."
Rudura noticed another thing then.
Raghav joked constantly during the conversation
but every compliment toward Rudura carried slight self-deprecation afterward.
Not intentional probably.
Just natural.
"…Guess princes progress differently."
There.
Another one.
Tiny.
But there.
Rudura looked at him quietly for a second.
Raghav didn't seem resentful.
That wasn't it.
He respected Rudura genuinely.
But comparison existed underneath anyway.
Not hatred.
Just awareness of difference.
That realization felt strangely uncomfortable.
Because now Rudura understood something important:
The book wasn't claiming people were secretly evil.
It was claiming human emotions mixed together constantly.
Admiration.
Comparison.
Respect.
Insecurity.
All at once.
Raghav sat down near one of the wooden posts surrounding the courtyard.
"Come on," he said. "If you keep standing there silently like that, you'll start looking like Chanakya."
"That's terrifying."
"It really is."
Rudura sat nearby.
Cold wind drifted through the training grounds softly while distant practice noises echoed across the courtyard.
For a while, conversation returned to normal again.
Military instructors.
Exam rumors.
Palace schedules.
Easy topics.
Then Raghav suddenly asked:
"So what are you doing now anyway?"
"Reading mostly."
"…You?"
"That reaction felt disrespectful."
"You hate books."
"I hate boring books."
Raghav laughed.
"Fair distinction."
Rudura hesitated briefly.
Then glanced toward the frost-covered courtyard.
"…Have you ever noticed how people act differently around status?"
Raghav blinked.
"That sounded weirdly philosophical."
"Answer the question."
The trainee shrugged slightly.
"Obviously they do."
"No, I mean constantly."
"…Still yes."
Rudura frowned thoughtfully.
Raghav looked sideways at him.
"You alright?"
"Yeah."
"You've had the expression of someone discovering humanity for the first time all morning."
"…That's annoyingly accurate."
Raghav snorted quietly.
Then after a moment, he said:
"If this is about the examinations, don't overthink it."
Rudura glanced toward him.
"What do you mean?"
"People compare themselves. It happens."
The answer came casually.
Naturally.
Like it was obvious.
Raghav stretched his arms behind his head while staring upward toward the pale winter sky.
"When someone nearby improves faster than you, you notice it. Doesn't mean you hate them."
Rudura stayed quiet.
Because somehow
that simple explanation clarified the entire chapter better than the book itself.
Not hatred.
Comparison.
Human comparison.
Raghav continued calmly:
"Honestly, most trainees respect you."
"That sounds uncomfortable."
"It should."
"…Thanks."
"But obviously people compare themselves too."
Rudura looked toward the frost-covered ground silently.
"…Even friends?"
Raghav shrugged.
"Probably more."
That answer landed quietly.
Not dramatically.
Just honestly.
The trainee stood up afterward and grabbed his practice sword again.
"Anyway, if I stay here too long, my instructor's going to kill me."
"Reasonable."
Raghav smirked slightly.
"You're still annoying to spar against by the way."
"You mentioned that already."
"I wanted to make sure your ego stayed healthy."
"Very kind."
The trainee started walking backward toward the courtyard exit.
Then called out casually:
"Try not to become one of those weird silent strategist types."
"…That sounds targeted."
"It is."
Then he disappeared into the outer corridor laughing lightly to himself.
Rudura remained seated for several moments afterward.
Cold wind brushed softly across the empty training ground.
The conversation replayed quietly inside his head.
Not because something dramatic happened.
Because nothing dramatic happened.
And yet
the emotional layers beneath ordinary interaction suddenly felt impossible to ignore now.
Raghav respected him.
Admired him even.
But comparison existed beside that respect naturally.
Not maliciously.
Just humanly.
Rudura exhaled slowly into the cold air.
"…This book is exhausting."
By evening, he finally returned to his room.
The brazier already burned warmly near the window while darkness spread beyond the palace walls outside.
Échecs Humains rested where he left it earlier.
Rudura stared at it from across the room.
For once
he didn't open it immediately.
Instead he sat quietly beside the window.
Thinking.
About Raghav .
About comparison.
About how awareness changed conversations.
Before reading the book, today would have felt simple.
Now every interaction carried emotional detail beneath the surface.
Not fake.
Not manipulative.
Just complicated.
Human.
After a long while, Rudura finally looked toward the book again.
Then muttered softly:
"…The book isn't changing people."
The brazier crackled quietly nearby.
Rudura's gaze remained fixed on the dark cover resting atop the table.
Then he finished the thought quietly.
"…It's changing what I notice."
(Continued in Chapter 65)