By noon, the academy had chosen what my duel meant.
The crowd wanted a duel. The route wanted a correction. I wanted a way to lose without becoming dead.
That was impressive, considering I had not fought it yet.
Gold Tier called it noble dignity under commoner assault. Iron Tier called it a chance to see whether birth bled differently. Obsidian students called it hope in whispers too small for teachers to punish. Silver students called it interesting because people with moderate privilege enjoyed pretending danger was academic.
Aiden Crest called it unnecessary.
Seraphina Seraphel called it worrying without saying the word.
Malcris, I suspected, called it data.
I called it late.
