The training grounds were alive with the clash of steel and the faint hum of magic, but Basil barely noticed. His attention was locked on the fiery swordswoman before him. She radiated anger and determination, her green eyes burning just as fiercely as the flames dancing on her blades.
"You," she spat, her voice sharp and laced with disdain. "What are you doing here, Basil Eryndor? Looking for another excuse to tarnish someone's day?"
Basil leaned casually against a pillar, his arms crossed, his expression infuriatingly smug. "Tarnish? Oh, I think you misunderstand me. I was merely appreciating your form. Your technique is... fiery, to say the least."
Her glare intensified, and she extinguished the flames on her swords with a sharp flick of her wrists. "Save your empty compliments. I know exactly who you are and what you're capable of. I won't fall for your tricks."
Basil raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Oh? And what tricks would those be? Charm? Wit? Perhaps my ability to render opponents speechless?"
"Arrogance," she snapped. "That's all you're good for."
Basil chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "And yet, you're still talking to me. Tell me, what's your name?"
"Amara," she said reluctantly, her tone clipped.
"Well, Amara," Basil said, pushing himself off the pillar and taking a step closer, "it's clear you have a lot of passion. But let me guess—you've heard the rumors. The ones that paint me as a villain, a disgrace to my family."
"Rumors?" Amara scoffed, her grip tightening on her swords. "Those aren't rumors—they're facts."
Basil's smirk didn't waver. "Facts, you say? Tell me, Amara, do you always judge a book by its cover, or is it just me who inspires such... passion?"
Her cheeks flushed with anger, but she refused to back down. "You're just a spoiled noble who's had everything handed to him. Your power means nothing without discipline and respect."
"Discipline and respect," Basil repeated, feigning deep thought. "Ah, yes. Two things I'm sure you embody perfectly. Tell me, Amara, how long have you been training with those fiery swords of yours?"
"Since I was twelve," she said proudly.
Basil nodded, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Impressive. And how long did it take you to awaken your aura and mana core?"
Her jaw tightened. "I awakened both at fourteen."
"Fourteen," Basil mused, as if tasting the word. "Not bad. Exceptional, even. But let me share a little secret." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I awakened mine at seven."
Amara's eyes widened, her composure faltering for the briefest moment. "Seven?" she echoed, disbelief evident in her tone.
"Yes," Basil said, straightening up and brushing an imaginary speck of dust off his sleeve. "The youngest in history, I believe. But don't feel too bad—it's not a fair comparison. After all, you've done quite well for yourself."
Amara's pride wouldn't allow her to back down. "Power isn't everything, Basil. Skill, determination, and heart—that's what makes a true warrior."
Basil tilted his head, a glimmer of genuine respect flashing in his eyes. "You're not wrong, Amara. But let's not forget—power is what keeps you alive."
The tension between them was palpable, drawing the attention of those nearby. Whispers spread through the training grounds, and soon, a small crowd had gathered, eager to witness the verbal sparring match.
Before either of them could say more, a commanding voice cut through the air.
"What's going on here?"
Both Basil and Amara turned to see a tall, imposing figure striding toward them. He had dark hair streaked with silver and piercing blue eyes that exuded authority. Behind him walked a woman in her late twenties, her regal bearing and striking beauty marking her as someone of importance.
The whispers grew louder.
"It's the prince!"
"And the second princess!"
Basil's smirk returned, though it was now tinged with genuine amusement. "Ah, what a pleasant surprise. It seems we have an audience."
The prince's gaze shifted between Basil and Amara, his expression unreadable. "Basil Eryndor," he said, his tone sharp. "Causing trouble again?"
Basil gave a mock bow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Always a pleasure to be accused without evidence, Your Highness."
The second princess, her emerald eyes cold and calculating, stepped forward. "I didn't expect to see you here, Basil," she said, her voice laced with subtle mockery. "And with your new bride, no less. How... entertaining."
Basil's smirk deepened, and he straightened, his gaze locking with hers. "Entertaining indeed, Your Highness. But don't let my presence distract you from your royal duties. I wouldn't want to be accused of stealing the spotlight."
The chapter ended with the tension thick in the air, the crowd watching with bated breath as the verbal battle hinted at deeper conflicts to come.