Knight Training Grounds, Ascendrias Academy, Auglarus.
Two knights were engaged in a mock battle in the centre of the training grounds. Their muscles shone with sweat as they gave off powerful punches and kicks. Some were dodged, others made their mark on the opponent's skin. Still, the raw power of the battle attracted cheers from the watching crowds.
"Go Sylvester, hit him! An upper cut!"
"Frederick, finish him! Leg, use your leg!"
The chorus of feverish cheers resounded from the audience continuously. It was clear that the two knights were very popular amongst the crowd. Then, a different kind of message pierced through the cacophony.
"Sylvester! You got a letter!" A man run up to the edge of the battling ground and shouted.
"A letter? Why are you telling me I have a letter in the middle of a spar?" One of the battling knights looked up and almost failed to dodge an incoming elbow attack.
"Concentrate!" the opponent growled.
"B-but it came from Clomodor!" the man deflated and stuttered in embarrassment.
Sylvester wiped his sweat away from his forehead and frowned in irritation. They continued to exchange a few attacks before Sylvester spotted an opening. Immediately, he dived in and landed a hit on the opponents' jaw.
When his opponent became distracted, he executed a short sweeping kick and knocked the opponent on the ground before pressing his body weight onto the latter's abdomen. He grabbed the opponent's arm and locked it with his own.
"Done?"
"Yes."
Sylvester quickly released his fellow knight and laughed, "Good fight, Frederick."
Frederick oscillated his shoulder and grumbled, "But I still lost."
"Nonsense, it's just a mock battle anyway," Sylvester rolled his eyes. When the practice session was over, he speedily left the training grounds for his room. The pale grey letter laid quietly on his desk, but without any insignia. He frowned as he picked the letter up.
"Oi, what are you doing here away from sparring practice?"
Sylvester quickly turned around and spotted a mountain of blanket on his roommate's bed.
"Finished my training, came to take a letter." The reply was crisp and short.
"Oh yeah, the messenger just delivered one for you. Sad that there's nothing for me today." The person under the blankets slowly struggled his way out of the layers, revealing a headful of messy yellow hair. He stretched slowly like a cat and slumped. "Who is it from?"
"Don't know, checking." Sylvester ripped the letter apart and read it quickly. Yurian saw that he looked conflicted.
"What's up? Who is it from?" he repeated.
Sylvester frowned. "Still don't know. Have you heard of Libitina Merveille? She is inviting me to my brother's birthday party, 6 months from now."
Yurian sat up straighter, trying to open his waxy eyes. "Your brother? Which brother, you've got two…Are you talking about Sydney Jair, the Second Prince? Why would he contact you suddenly? Are you guys still chummy with each other or something? You've never spoken about this at all."
"No, we are not chummy," Sylvester fell silent before flinging the letter onto his desk.
"Hmm, there's still time to think," Yurian agreed, rubbing his eyes. "Arf…Want to go for dinner later?"
"Sure, after my bath."
Yurian watched Sylvester walked into the bathroom attached to their room before closing his eyes again for a short nap.
…
When Yurian and Sylvester entered the Academy's canteen, the first thing they saw was a couple sitting in the corner. It was impossible not to see. Sighing imperceptibly, they filled their trays with food before walking over.
"Hello," Yurian loudly said in an oblivious voice, hanging his arm around the brunette beauty who had been blushing a minute before. "It is true that some people will choose their beaus over their bros."
Marianne pushed his head away in a playful manner, "What beaus over bros? Aren't I one of your 'bros' as well, idiot? From another standpoint, isn't Ally just choosing a bro over the other bros?"
"Stop talking like that," Sylvester sulked, "I'm sick of hearing about bros."
"Wow, I see a hierarchy forming in the brotherhood," Yurian joked. "No fair, Marianne."
"Shut up, Yurian," Marianne laughed. "What have you guys been up to?"
"Training, mostly," Sylvester scooped some mashed potato into his mouth. "Is there a group mission that you have chosen for the month, Alistair?"
"No," Alistair smiled wistfully. "I am afraid I have been called back by my Royal Father for a task. In fact, Marianne has also been asked to follow. I was wondering if you two would be interested."