It was decided that the Royal Family would remain at Northgard Castle for three full days. During this time, Lord Maegor, accompanied by King Aldous, departed on royal hunting expeditions in the freezing northern forests.
In the castle's winter garden, where the rare ice lotus flowers bloomed, a lavish tea party was held, bringing together the poised Queen Sylvanas and the Lord's wives. The air was saturated with the aroma of exquisite tea and precious perfumes, but the exchanged words concealed a far more lethal venom.
With a forced smile masking deep cunning, Lady Morgana set down her teacup and spoke in a smooth tone:
"We ask for your forgiveness, Your Majesty, on behalf of the boy, Arian. What occurred last night at the dinner table was an unacceptable slip of the tongue. But what else can we expect from a child... whose mother was a mere maid? He entirely lacks the refinement of the nobility."
Queen Sylvanas sipped her tea calmly, her cold features unchanging by so much as an inch, and replied with a voice carrying diplomatic weight:
"It is fine, Lady Morgana. In truth, my daughter Alya was the one who erred first and spoke beyond the bounds of propriety. The boy merely defended his position."
Despite the Queen's decisive response, Lady Rowena and the other wives picked up the thread of the conversation, beginning to cast veiled, mocking comments about Arian's weakness, his introversion, and his being a "stain" on the Oswald family. The Queen listened in absolute silence, but deep down, she was observing and evaluating, well aware that what she saw on the surface was but the tip of the iceberg.
On the other side of the castle, the training ground was boiling with stifling energy. The royal delegation had left behind twenty elite knights of the Royal Guard. They were men of massive builds, donning gleaming silver armor, exuding combat auras that struck terror into the hearts of men. Throughout these three days, these knights monopolized the courtyard, flaunting their strength before the knights and recruits of Northgard, who could barely withstand the pressure.
Amidst this highly charged atmosphere, Arian marched to the beat of his own drum. Ignoring the royal knights and the customary looks of contempt, he continued his grueling training routine. He stood in an isolated corner, lifting heavy iron weights that were entirely disproportionate to his frail body, beads of sweat falling from his brow. His focus was entirely centered on forcing his muscles to absorb the tearing and rebuilding process.
As he was lifting one of the weights, he noticed an unusual movement. There was a new recruit practicing with his sword a few meters away. A boy with purple hair and excessively handsome, soft features. It was Valen. His movements were agile, precise, and as incredibly fast as a shadow, making him indisputably the best new recruit in the castle.
Suddenly, Valen stopped swinging his sword and approached Arian with silent steps. Without any preamble, and with a piercing, direct gaze, he asked in his low voice:
"Your sword style... the battle against Rolf. I saw it. That defensive trajectory and that angle of attack... I have never seen a similar style in Northgard before. Where did you learn it?"
Arian did not stop lifting the iron weight. Maintaining his rhythmic breathing, he answered coldly and tersely:
"I learned it from an old book."
Valen narrowed his purple eyes, casting a cold look at Arian mixed with obvious astonishment at this impossible answer. He said not another word; he turned around quietly and returned to his training as if he had never asked the question.
No sooner had Valen walked away than one of the Northgard knights approached Arian, whispering to him in utter amazement:
"Did that stranger just speak to you? What did he say? That boy hasn't spoken to anyone in the courtyard except Sir Gared! Anyone who tried to bother him or mock his soft features ended up on the ground with a broken jaw!"
Arian did not bother to answer. He simply lowered the weight to catch his breath.
At that moment, the atmosphere in the courtyard shifted. From the main gate, Princess Alya entered. As the King's youngest child, Alya was no ordinary girl. She despised tea parties and wearing silk dresses, preferring the scent of steel and the clash of swords. Her innate talent made her arrogant, believing the world revolved around her.
The moment she entered, the royal knights and the castle's knights ceased their training, all bowing in respect to her. She swept the courtyard with her eyes until she found her target: Arian, who had gone back to running around the yard, completely ignoring her presence.
She suddenly blocked his path and raised her chin haughtily:
"You! Stop right there. I demand a duel, here and now. I want to test your strength and see if you truly deserve to be mentioned in the same sentence as someone of my standing!"
Arian did not stop. He veered slightly off his path, passing right by her as if she were a mere rock in his way, continuing his run in silence.
The Princess's face flushed red with anger at this insulting disregard, and she yelled in a sharp voice:
"Are you ignoring me?! Do you not have the courage to face me?"
Arian finally stopped. He turned to her with an expression completely devoid of interest, and said in a low yet firm voice:
"I do not have time for these children's games. Go back to your tea party."
Alya's eyes widened, and she gripped her sword's scabbard in blind fury:
"Calling me a child?! I am a full year older than you, coward!"
Alya lost her temper and lunged at him with a speed that was astounding for her age, aiming a heavy blow with her scabbard without drawing the blade. The strike was aimed at his shoulder to teach him a lesson.
To the onlookers, her movement was incredibly fast. But to the mind of the "Supreme Commander" residing within Arian's body, the strike was as slow and readable as an open book.
In the final fraction of a second, with the least possible physical effort, Arian shifted his weight to the side with a simple pivot. Alya's scabbard cleaved empty air, and due to her reckless momentum and missing her target, she lost her balance entirely. She stumbled and nearly fell into the dirt, had she not caught herself at the last moment.
She spun toward him, her face burning with embarrassment and anger in front of the knights, and screamed:
"Fight me, coward! Why are you running?"
But Arian's attention was no longer on her. His black eyes were fixed on another scene in the opposite corner of the courtyard. There, a sparring match was taking place between one of the elite Royal Knights and a new Northgard recruit named Baren.
The power gap was vast and humiliating. The Royal Knight was not training; he was practicing brutal bullying. Baren lay on the ground, bleeding from his mouth, his wooden sword broken. Even though the fight was effectively over, the Royal Knight raised his heavy wooden training sword, a sadistic smile plastering his face, and aimed a lethal, direct blow at the unarmed recruit's head—a blow more than capable of crushing his skull.
The mocking laughter of the Royal Knights rang out, while the Northgard knights stood by, powerless to intervene for fear of angering the King's guests.
Before the sword could touch Baren's head, the air in the area dispersed. In the blink of an eye, Arian appeared out of nowhere. With one hand, and a precise, iron grip, Arian caught the blade of the Royal Knight's wooden sword in mid-air, halting it completely. The pressure resulting from stopping the blow kicked up a light whirlwind of dust around his feet.
The Royal Knight's eyes widened in shock, which quickly morphed into severe irritation as he glared at this small boy who dared to stop him. He shouted in a menacing voice:
"What the hell is this?! How dare you interfere in my duel, you scum?"
Arian released the blade and looked at the knight with eyes holding a deadly void and a killing intent as cold as frost, causing the knight to step back involuntarily.
Before the situation could escalate, Princess Alya's voice echoed:
"Stop this instant!"
She ran toward them, and upon her arrival, the Royal Knights immediately bowed, albeit reluctantly. She shot them a stern, reprimanding look:
"Step back now. The fight is over."
The Royal Knights withdrew with scowling faces. On the ground, the young recruit, Baren, coughed up some blood, raised his head toward Arian, and said in a broken voice:
"Thank you... Young Master."
Alya turned to Arian, opening her mouth to say something—perhaps to scold him or to ask how he stopped that blow. But, as usual, Arian gave her no chance. Without uttering a single word, and without looking at her or Baren, he turned around and walked back toward his weights to resume his training, entirely dismissing the whole situation.
This action left Alya standing in her place, burning with rage and confusion. In contrast, the knights and recruits of Northgard stared at the back of this young boy with entirely new eyes, void of their old contempt and brimming with silent respect and genuine awe.
The three days passed, and the time for departure arrived. The royal procession lined up with its usual grandeur and passed through the black castle walls amidst the gathering crowds.
Inside the royal carriage, King Aldous was looking out the window before he said quietly:
"Regarding that boy..."
Queen Sylvanas interrupted him:
"I know what you are going to say. At first, the agreement for Alya to marry him was merely a political burden. But now... I have changed my mind."
She turned toward him, a hidden smile gleaming in her eyes:
"That boy is like no other. He possesses a coldness and a mind unfitting for his age. In the future, he could be the perfect shield... or the most dangerous sword for Alya."
The King smiled and nodded silently, as the carriage drove away from the province.
The following morning, Northgard awoke to an unusual sight. In every corner, and on the doors of taverns and markets, official flyers bearing the seal of the Lion and the Wolf had been posted.
The northern winds rustled one of those flyers pinned by a dagger, which read:
"By order of Lord Maegor Oswald: Official recruitment for the Aura Knights Academy is now open. Only the strongest shall survive, and only the worthy shall bear the sword."
From his room's window, Arian watched the new recruits who had begun to arrive. He said quietly:
"I suppose it is time... for me to become a knight."