The bitterness burned in Kaelix's chest, but it only hardened his resolve. If he wanted decisive action, he would have to speak with someone with courage. Lord Cedric. Eirik's uncle. The only member of his family who had ever shown true grit. Kaelix made up his mind to seek Cedric out and enlist his help.
As he made his way toward the courtyard, Kaelix's sharp eyes caught sight of Drystan. He stood near a sparring ring, his sword clashing rhythmically with another guard's blade. Sweat glistened on Drystan's brow as he moved with precision and strength, parrying and striking in perfect form. His opponent staggered back after a particularly brutal blow, and Drystan lowered his weapon, nodding in acknowledgment of his victory.
Kaelix raised a hand, signaling for Drystan to come over. Drystan sheathed his sword and approached, his expression serious as he noticed Kaelix's intensity.
