After he finished speaking, the old man climbed back up the stairs under the murmurs of the crowd and left as if nothing had happened.
He was certainly a mysterious man.
He didn't seem evil or ill-intentioned to me.
On the contrary, I had a rather good impression of him.
The crowd then dispersed quickly, and we returned to the quarters that had been assigned to us.
Each nation had its own plot of land where its rulers had built a residence. Of course, the type of residence varied greatly from one nation to another.
The wealthiest duchies could indulge in extravagance and grand ambitions.
Unsurprisingly, ours had seen better days.
The walls were cracked, and the warped wooden front door creaked heavily whenever it was opened.
A smell of dust filled the interior, and the old oak furniture creaked constantly.
The stairs groaned beneath every step, and the carpet had faded.
The wallpaper had yellowed and peeled away in several places, hanging awkwardly from the walls.
And yet, all those creaks and smells were strangely comforting to me. I felt at ease there.
Once settled in, we ate the lunch prepared by Lise.
After such a hectic morning, her beef stew had something reassuring about it.
Once lunch was finished, Doran and the soldiers dragged me toward the training complex that had supposedly been placed at our disposal.
We crossed the street, passing in front of all the buildings before arriving at a large stone gate surrounding a fairly large rectangular structure.
As soon as we passed through the gate, the noise inside suddenly reached our ears.
Inside, the ground was made of packed earth, and various wooden weapons were lined up along the edges.
Several wooden stakes serving as targets had also been planted in one corner of the hall.
Several people armed with bows were practicing their shooting from the opposite end of the room.
Doran led us to an empty corner, and we began stretching.
"Don't tell me you've come here to participate?"
A voice sounded from behind my shoulder.
Doran and I turned toward it.
A young man with silver hair whom I immediately recognized was looking at us with a half-surprised expression.
It was the same expression he had worn when I first saw him before the reception. Only without his maids, he looked much less impressive.
"You must be from Seraphy judging by your attire."
Doran stepped forward and placed himself in front of me.
"We are from Britain, young man."
The boy looked at him, then burst out laughing before an expression of disgust formed on his face.
"I doubt you're in a position to address me directly, soldier..."
He turned his gaze toward me.
"So you're pretending to be a real nation now."
I clenched my fists.
Even if I wasn't the most patriotic person at court, hearing him insult the country that had saved me like that made my blood boil.
But I was here as the representative of the entire nation. I couldn't allow myself to lose control.
I took a deep breath.
"Our nation has always been independent. Besides, I don't recall being introduced to you. I find it rather rude to speak to someone that way."
I must have struck his pride because his smile immediately vanished, and he shifted his weight slightly from one foot to the other.
His gaze became serious.
He extended his hand.
"I am Isaac, Crown Prince of Uruk."
I took his hand to shake it.
But the moment our hands touched, Isaac suddenly squeezed mine brutally, making me grimace in pain.
Noticing my discomfort, Isaac smiled.
"What would you say to a training duel, dear companion from Britain?"
Around us, several heads had already begun turning in our direction.
Some archers had stopped shooting. A few nobles training farther away slowed their movements.
Even those pretending not to watch were discreetly listening.
Isaac knew it. That was precisely why he had challenged me.
He wasn't looking to train.
He wanted a show.
And above all, he wanted to see what Britain's representative was worth. At least, that's what I thought.
I held his gaze for a few seconds before pulling my sore hand away.
"A duel?"
Reading interest in my answer, his smile widened.
"You're not afraid, I hope?"
[Hit him.]
No.
[Just a little?]
No.
I took a few seconds to think.
The tournament would begin soon.
If I showed everything I was capable of now, the other families would immediately adapt their strategies.
And more importantly, considering my mediocre level, it was better to keep a trump card hidden.
Isaac watched my silence with a mocking smile.
"Well?"
I shrugged slightly.
"Why not."
His smile immediately turned into one of satisfaction.
I continued.
"On one condition."
One of his eyebrows rose.
"I'm listening."
"No ether."
His smile disappeared.
Several people around us seemed surprised.
Isaac stared at me for a few moments before chuckling.
"No ether?"
"Exactly."
"Why?"
I crossed my arms.
"Because we're in a training ground full of nobles. If someone loses control of their ether, things could become problematic very quickly."
A lie.
But a reasonable lie.
The real reason was much simpler.
I wanted Isaac to underestimate me.
I wanted him to see me as nothing more than a provincial swordsman incapable of properly using ether.
If we ended up facing each other later in the tournament...
The element of surprise could make all the difference.
Isaac stared at me for a few moments.
Then his usual smile returned.
"Very well."
He spread his arms.
"I don't need ether to defeat someone like you."
[What a punchable face.]
I'm starting to agree.
Doran stepped slightly closer.
"Young Master..."
The "Young Master" was back. He must have been genuinely worried. It was true that I wasn't very good, but was facing Isaac really that dangerous?
I gave him a slight nod.
He seemed to understand.
He knew I wasn't particularly strong.
But after all our training together, he also knew I wasn't stupid.
A few minutes later, a circle formed in the middle of the training ground.
Wooden weapons were brought over.
Isaac immediately chose a longsword.
I picked a similar weapon.
Then we began warming up.
The difference was striking.
Isaac handled his weapon with the confidence of someone who had received martial training since childhood.
His movements were fluid.
Precise.
Natural.
I knew how to fight, but mostly because Sebastian had spent several years beating me senseless during our training sessions.
A questionable teaching method.
But an effective one.
To a certain extent, at least.
We took our positions facing one another.
Silence settled.
I noticed several particularly attentive gazes.
Most were watching Isaac. Only a handful were looking at me.
Probably evaluating a potential future opponent.
One more reason not to reveal anything.
Isaac spun his weapon.
The soldier assigned as referee raised his hand.
"Ready?"
Isaac and I nodded.
The soldier lowered his hand.
"Begin!"
Isaac almost disappeared instantly.
Fast.
Very fast.
The wooden sword sliced through the air toward my shoulder.
I barely managed to block it.
The impact echoed throughout the training ground.
Several spectators discreetly nodded.
Isaac immediately followed up.
Vertical.
Horizontal.
Thrust.
I retreated under the pressure.
Every strike was precise.
He never seemed to attack randomly.
I blocked.
Deflected.
Dodged.
Without ever counterattacking.
Isaac frowned slightly.
CLACK!
CLACK!
CLACK!
The exchanges piled up, and I continued giving ground.
Voluntarily. At least, halfway voluntarily...
I had to appear inferior.
Just weak enough to be overlooked.
[You're doing it on purpose.]
I hope so.
[You're also taking a lot of hits.]
I looked at the bruises forming on my body.
That's part of the plan.
[Stupid plan.]
Isaac suddenly accelerated.
His sword struck mine.
Then his foot swept across the ground.
I deliberately allowed myself to lose my balance.
The next instant, the wooden sword stopped a few centimeters from my neck.
Silence fell.
Several people applauded.
Isaac stepped back with a victorious smile.
"Not bad."
His tone meant exactly the opposite.
I lowered my weapon. I was out of breath and covered in dust. I had obtained exactly what I wanted.
In the minds of every spectator present today...
Britain's representative was a decent swordsman.
Nothing more.
Nothing threatening.
Nothing remarkable.
Certainly not someone capable of competing with the heirs of the great powers.
Isaac spun his sword one last time before looking down at me.
"You handle yourself better than I expected."
I shrugged.
"Thank you."
That answer seemed to almost disappoint him.
He had probably wanted to see me frustrated.
Or humiliated.
Unfortunately for him, I had never been so satisfied with a defeat.
Then, as he was already turning away to leave, Lena suddenly whispered.
[Kael.]
What?
[Above.]
What's there?
[Look at the gallery above.]
I discreetly raised my eyes.
At the very top of the training complex.
Hidden behind a row of columns.
Aldric Valen, the Pontiff, was watching the scene.
My heart skipped a beat.
His gaze was fixed on me.
As if he had just understood something.
As if he knew perfectly well that I had just lied to everyone.