Severan walked into the royal training grounds, the air thick with anticipation and the sound of clashing blades. Half-naked men were rushing around, throwing hands and swords at each other, practicing proper form and steeling their nerves against bladed battles.
The prince wanted nothing more than to battle - to train - but was accompanied by a flock of young nobles, eager to bask in his presence and perhaps gain favor in his eyes. Among them stood Ishvan Ato, a charismatic and astute noble whose ambition made news reach even the prince's ears. Severan was well acquainted with Ishvan, more because of the noble's accomplishments than his status as a count.
However, there was another noble who caught Severan's attention, albeit in a different manner. A short, ugly man forced his body to keep stride with the prince and Ishvan, his blubbery rolls of fat rippling every time he stepped. Sweat pooled on his forehead, around his temples, and all over his body, releasing a stench worse than any warhorse could after a long-fought battle.
Urul Rostrum - a viscount in the far east of Blackwater - with his unkempt appearance and lack of elegance, was an oddity amidst the elegant gathering.
"Of course, Your Highness. My Ato Family would gladly lend 5 of our best scribes to keep tabs on all the treasures of Wailmastaba." While Ishvan sought to build a meaningful relationship with the future king, Urul had set his sights on a far more immediate and impractical goal.
"Your Highness, the prince. May I be so daring to request a meeting with her Royal Highness, the princess?" Urul approached, a depraved glimmer in his eyes. Unlike Ishvan, Urul's intentions were transparent as glass. His grotesque desires laid bare for all to see.
Severan's brow furrowed. "Such a meeting is not for me to decide. Request a formal meeting with the princess if that's your wish."
Urul nervously licked his lips, fiddling with the overly ornate sword strapped to his side.
With just a glance, Severan could tell this fool could not wield that sword. A mere bandit could probably best the noble.
"But, Prince Severan. Princess Ayla will refuse my request. Please, Your Highness. If Your Highness were to put in a good word for me, I am sure Princess Ayla would not hastily refuse me."
Severan's patience wavered, his expression growing stern as he listened to Urul's nonsensical proposals. The prince didn't know this bastard but could tell what kind of personality he had. The look in Urul's eyes was enough for Severan.
"As I told you, Viscount Urul. That is not for me to decide. Furthermore, I know naught of you, so how can I tell my sister anything about you?"
Urul's eyes glimmered with vigor as he said excitedly. "My Lord, if you wanted to know me better, Your Highness only had to ask."
Severan expression threatened to turn confused, but the prince's hold on his facial muscles was too strong. That said, confusion filled Severan's head. 'What is this fool talking about?'
"I was deeply saddened when her Royal Highness, Ayla Valtiere, could not attend the lavish feast my father held," Urul said, wearing a hurt expression on his round face.
The surrounding noble ladies giggled with scorn at the Viscount's claims. Urul didn't seem to understand what the giggles really meant.
"That is regrettable," Severan said promptly, finally reaching the center of the training grounds, causing all the knights to stop and bow to their prince.
"We greet, His Royal Highness, the prince." A gruff, battle-scarred man roared, his voice booming.
The young noble maidens looked hurt by the commander's loud, bassy voice and grumbled slightly.
"Do not stop the training because of me, commander. I am here to train as well. Please," The prince walked to a wooden stand and picked up a wooden sword. "Please allow me this fight."
The commander bowed deeply and answered instantly. "I dare not refuse, His Highness."
Flashing a thin smile, Severan threw his shirt on the wooden training pole, revealing his chiseled physique and some battle scars of his own.
The noble ladies shrieked shyly upon seeing the prince half-naked. Severan knew the ladies were more than eager to see his naked upper body, looking at him like a wolf looking at a piece of meat, but he ignored them. He would rather see the look on the commander's face.
As expected, the commander looked surprised and pleased. Since he was not with the prince in the latter's mission, the commander had no knowledge of what Severan had been through. Sure, there were some rumors, but the commander of the White Division couldn't lower his ear to rumors.
That said, he was surprised to know the prince had been fighting on the battle lines with his soldiers. While the commander part told him what the price did was reckless, the soldier part couldn't be more proud of such a leader.
"Umm, as I was saying, Your Highness," Urul spoke up, sending the commander a death stare as if it was the commander's fault for interrupting his and the prince's conversation. "My family would be honored if Your Highness were to visit our manor. My father would surely hold a feast even more lavish than the last one."
Severan ignored the fool and stepped forward, his gaze never leaving his opponent.
He would face the commander of the White Division, a man with dozens of years of dutiful experience at the helm of the protectors of the Royal family.
The air crackled with tension as the prince prepared to unleash his skills upon the seasoned warrior. With a swift movement, Severan lunged forward, his blade glinting brightly under the summer's sun.
The commander met Severan's attack with calm composure, skillfully deflecting each strike with precision. His movements were fluid, changing from one form to another so swiftly it astonished the prince.
The clash of steel echoed through the training ground, vibrating the air violently. The prince held nothing back, hitting ferociously, looking for blood.
Severan pressed on relentlessly, launching a flurry of lightning-fast strikes. The commander, ever watchful, parried each blow with measured steps, his defenses impenetrable.
The prince danced around his opponent, his agile footwork enabling him to strike from unexpected angles. But the commander's defensive stance remained unyielding, his focus unbroken. He effortlessly countered Severan's offensive displaying a mastery of technique that was nothing short of awe-inspiring.
The soldiers cheered, watching the fight with sparkling eyes. They didn't hold back in their own battles, no. But to make the commander block strikes with his blade and not just swat them aside was something these soldiers couldn't accomplish. So they marveled. Marveled at the strength of the future king. Marveled at the fiery passion the prince held for battle.
As the mock battle raged on, Severan's speed increased, his movements becoming more fluid and seamless. He reveled in the exhilaration of combat, savoring the dance of blades with an opponent as skilled as the commander. With each clash, Severan pushed his sword faster, with more power behind it, his innate talent shining through in every strike.
Yet, for all his skill and determination, Severan could not breach the commander's defenses. The White Division's commander stood firm, a mountainous defense barring the prince's every strike.
"Impressive, Lord Commander," Severan said, retreating several steps to catch his breath. "I should've expected nothing less from the Royal Family's loyal Shield."
The commander shook his head and lowered his blade. "I should be the one praising you, Your Highness. Your skill with the blade is truly something to marvel at."
The commander rolled his shoulders and opened then closed his fingers, smiling widely. "And the power behind your strikes. Something to fear, My Lord."
"My Lord," Urul stepped up again, causing the prince to openly frown.
Severan finally interrupted Urul's fanciful ramblings, fed up with this fool's persistence. "Viscount Rostrum, your persistence is something to fear, but let us not stray into realms of impossibility. If you want to meet my sister, please leave an official request. I will not put in a good word for you, either. As for your invitation, I thank you, but I have more pressing matters I must attend."
Severan's gaze shifted to the rest of the nobles, his eyes pausing on Ishvan before continuing. The prince washed himself using water magic, dried his hair using wind, and wore his shirt back.
"If there are other matters you would like to discuss with me, please follow me to a more appropriate setting."