Chapter 67 – Excellence Camp – Duel Hall VII

Ashern City - Reinhart Institute of War, 22nd of Brightforge, year 315 UC

Julius pulled up his pants, fastening the belt with practiced precision before reaching for his shirt draped across Isabella's bed. The silken sheets were still rumpled, bearing the evidence of their afternoon activities. He ran a hand through his dark hair, trying to restore some semblance of order to his appearance. The golden buttons of his uniform shirt caught the afternoon light filtering through the half-drawn curtains as he worked them through their holes with nimble fingers.

The notice from his mother weighed on his mind. Her latest message had contained the usual critique thinly veiled as praise—expectations barely met, potential not fully realized. The frequency of these reminders had increased since the Excellence Camp began. The cream-colored parchment with the Reinhart seal sat folded in his pocket, a constant physical reminder of his supposed inadequacy.

He knew exactly why.

Bryan Blackwood.

The red-eyed boy had become a constant topic at every dinner with his mother. "Did you not learn anything from the last duel, because he sure did." "You're falling behind; our family has a reputation to uphold. You know how the patriarch gets when we don't deliver." "Why haven't you developed that level of control yet?"

Julius was tired of hearing about Bryan. Life had been so much simpler back in Sethorian, the border city between the Roan Kingdom and the Holy Empire. There, the Reinhart name meant something different—not academic excellence or political maneuvering, but military might. His family guarded the western front, maintaining vigilance against both the Holy Empire to the west and the Al-Thar Kingdom to the south.

As he buttoned the collar of his shirt, Julius glanced at his reflection in Isabella's ornate mirror. His blue eyes—his mother's eyes—stared back at him, betraying none of the frustration he felt. His path had been clear in Sethorian—study, train, and eventually inherit his mother's position as general in a decade or two.

Contrary to what many at the academy believed, Julius was not the heir to the Reinhart dynasty. That dubious honor belonged to his cousin, Caesar Reinhart—a total dick in Julius's opinion, though he'd never voice that thought aloud. Caesar's arrogance was matched only by his political cunning, a combination that made him both dangerous and insufferable.

Still, the Reinhart name did come with certain advantages—connections to prominent families beyond the Roan Kingdom's borders, access to information, whispers of secrets that shaped the kingdom's future.

Secrets like The Pentarchy Treaty.

Julius wasn't supposed to know anything about that particular agreement. But two years ago, after their duel, Caesar had drunk too much wine and his tongue had loosened. Julius recalled how his cousin had sprawled across the velvet-upholstered chair in his private chambers, crystal goblet dangling precariously from his manicured fingers.

"It sucks to be you, or anyone in your generation," Caesar had slurred, wine sloshing dangerously close to the edge of his glass.

"Three years. Three damn years before everything goes to shit."

Julius had chuckled, not understanding the gravity of his cousin's words.

"While you'll be out there fighting, I think I'll sit right back here, drinking my wine and playing my small role. You though, good fucking luck."

When Julius had pressed for clarification, Caesar had sneered, his usually handsome face twisted with drunken contempt.

"The Pentarchy Treaty, you fucktard. Pater knows you're a stupid one."

Julius had frowned, the wine in his own glass suddenly tasting bitter. "What do you mean it was supposed to last?"

"Have you not been paying attention? Gosh, this is why I hate you."

Caesar had revealed much that night before abruptly sobering, his eyes narrowing as he realized who he was confiding in. "Keep your mouth shut," he'd warned, suddenly all traces of drunkenness gone. "Not a word."

Julius had complied, carrying the knowledge silently ever since.

Only a few more months now, a year at most. The thought was both exciting and terrifying as Julius adjusted the cuffs of his shirt.

The bathroom door opened with a soft click, interrupting his thoughts. Isabella emerged in a cloud of steam, one white towel wrapped around her body and another containing her damp golden hair. Droplets of water glistened on her shoulders, catching the afternoon light filtering through the curtains and turning her skin to pale gold.

"Pass me that red dress over there."

She pointed to several outfits laid out on a nearby chair, each one more elaborate than anything permitted by academy regulations.

"You could just come get it yourself."

Julius replied, buttoning his shirt. His fingers moved down the row of polished buttons.

"Not like I haven't seen anything you're covering already."

Isabella rolled her eyes, adjusting the towel around her chest with one hand while the other kept her hair wrapped securely.

"And give you an excuse to delay your departure? I think not. Will you be attending tonight?"

"Will your father be there?"

Julius asked, picking up the red dress.

"He will."

Isabella nodded, adjusting her hair towel. A few golden strands escaped, curling damply against her neck.

"Alongside my sister. Father is going to be so surprised when he sees Bryan. I can't wait for the introduction."

Julius frowned slightly, handing over the dress. His thumb brushed against the delicate beadwork along its neckline.

"I don't understand why you're so interested in him. He seems to want nothing to do with you."

"Sounds like someone's jealous."

Isabella smirked, moving closer to take the dress. The scent of her expensive perfume—something with jasmine and amber notes—intensified as she approached.

"Not in the least."

Julius shook his head, releasing the dress into her waiting hands.

"If anyone can tame you, I'm more than happy to step aside."

Isabella took the dress from his hands, rising on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek.

"Good boy. Now be a dear and make yourself useful—go entertain Victor before he comes here asking where you are."

"You can't even wear that in the city."

Julius gestured to the dress, which was far too formal for academy regulations. The plunging neckline and fitted silhouette would never be allowed on campus.

"I don't know why you're trying it on now."

"It's for the banquet later, at my estate."

She laid the dress carefully on the bed, smoothing a hand over its silken surface.

"No one is going to tell me what I can and cannot wear in my own home."

"You sure do have a problem with authority and rules."

Julius observed, retrieving his academy jacket from where it hung over a nearby chair.

"And don't you forget it."

Isabella turned away, laying the dress carefully on the bed. Water droplets from her hair fell onto the silk, darkening small spots on the fabric.

"You really should go. I don't need rumors circulating."

Julius shook his head.

"This is why you're still not engaged."

"That makes two of us."

Isabella's expression brightened, her blue eyes taking on a dreamy quality that Julius had rarely seen. She clutched the red dress to her chest, heedless of the dampness from her towel transferring to the delicate fabric.

"But I think I've found the perfect candidate."

She said.

"Don't you see how handsome Bryan is? Our future children would be absolutely perfect. Just think about it."

"You're crazy."

Julius stated, adjusting his collar in the mirror.

"You don't even talk to him."

"You can't stop love, Julius."

Isabella sighed dramatically.

"We're meant for one another. I've known it since he showed up and revealed his magical attribute."

She leaned forward. The towel around her hair loosened slightly, allowing more damp strands to escape.

"Blood magic. Can you believe it? Such a thing actually exists."

'Here she goes again.'

Julius thought, quietly backing toward the door while Isabella continued her monologue. The thick carpet muffled his footsteps as he retreated.

"His magic would be a perfect addition to my already perfect lineage. The Thornheart bloodline combined with such rare power—our children would be unstoppable. Father will simply have to approve once he sees Bryan's potential."

Julius slipped out the door, closing it softly behind him. Even through the thick wood, he could hear Isabella continuing her romantic fantasies.

"The wedding would need to be spectacular, of course. Nothing less would do for a union of such significance. Perhaps in the spring, when the gardens are in bloom. And the guest list! We'd need to invite all the noble houses, naturally, but also..."

Her voice grew more distant as Julius moved down the hallway.

"Julius? Julius?"

Isabella's voice called out, but he was already turning the corner, a small smile playing on his lips.

She could dream all she wanted of Bryan Blackwood. Julius hoped that her dreams would come true. Isabella was a nice girl, a bit deceitful at times, but easy to get along with. And he was not just saying that because they shared a bed every now and again.

But when war broke out, he hoped that she would be safe. That was more important than some marriage that she would no doubt force upon the boy.

***

Ashern City - Train, 22nd of Brightforge, year 315 UC

The train swayed gently as it approached Ashern City, the countryside gradually giving way to suburban developments and then the city proper. Randel watched through the window as buildings grew taller and more densely packed, the afternoon sun glinting off glass and metal.

"Nervous?"

Helena asked, her eyes studying his expression. Her dark elf features were striking even in repose, her long fingers idly smoothing the fabric of her elegant traveling dress. The deep green color complemented her complexion, the subtle gold embroidery marking her as a member of Dynosis's nobility.

"A little."

Randel admitted, adjusting his position on the comfortable first-class seat.

"There's no need."

Helena smiled reassuringly, her long ears twitching slightly with the movement. A silver comb held her elaborately braided hair in place, tiny emeralds catching the light whenever she turned her head.

"You'll fit right in."

She leaned forward slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Farrah's going to be so surprised when she sees you."

Randel scratched his cheek, feeling a flush of warmth rise to his face. His simple traveling clothes—the best he owned, but still modest compared to the Heartland family's finery—suddenly felt inadequate.

"I don't think so."

"Oh, please."

Helena waved her hand dismissively, the rings on her fingers catching the sunlight streaming through the train window.

"The two of you were inseparable."

Randel laughed softly at that, the sound almost lost beneath the train's rumbling.

"Yeah, we were."

It had been almost an entire month since they'd last spoken, since they'd seen each other. The longest they'd been apart since they were children. He wondered what she'd been up to, how the camp was going, and if she'd improved her magic. He wanted to know everything.

His fingers tapped against his knee as he thought about seeing her again. Would she have changed? Would things be different between them now?

"You should just get married already."

Elie declared from across the compartment, not looking up from the book he was pretending to read. The youngest Heartland son slouched in his seat, his traveling clothes already rumpled despite his mother's best efforts. At twelve, he'd mastered the art of looking perpetually bored.

"Elie!"

Helena's voice carried a warning tone. She shot her son a stern look, though the effect was somewhat undermined by the slight twitch of amusement at the corner of her mouth.

Elie crossed his arms, a pout forming on his young face. His pointed ears—not yet as long as his mother's—drooped slightly with his mood.

"How much longer? I want to explore the city."

"There's supposed to be a small festival going on."

Randel told him. He straightened his simple blue jacket, brushing away an imaginary speck of dust.

"So there might be a lot of people."

"Can you take me to the duel hall?"

Elie asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement. The book he'd been pretending to read slid forgotten to the side.

Randel glanced at Helena before looking back at Elie. His hand rose to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit he'd never quite broken.

"I don't think that's appropriate."

"But what about that time you—"

"Well, it looks like we're about to stop!"

Randel interrupted, his voice a touch too loud. The train had indeed begun to slow, the scenery outside shifting from the blur of motion to distinguishable buildings and streets.

Helena raised an eyebrow, her expression suggesting she wasn't fooled by the sudden outburst. The corner of her mouth quirked upward as she gathered her embroidered travel bag.

"Attention passengers, we are now arriving at Ashern City Central Station."

The conductor's voice announced through the speakers mounted near the ceiling of their compartment.

"Please ensure you have all your belongings before disembarking."

"Will you be accompanying us through the city?"

Helena asked as she gathered her things.

"I would love to, but I want to check out some things first."

Randel replied, standing to retrieve his small travel bag from the overhead compartment.

"That's fine."

Helena nodded, adjusting the silver chain around her neck.

"Just don't get into any trouble."

"I won't."

Randel promised, helping Elie with his bag. The boy was already pressing his face against the window, watching as Ashern City's central station came into view.

As they disembarked onto the platform, Randel was about to head off when Helena called after him.

"Hold on a moment."

Randel paused, turning back to see Helena close her eyes. Her lips moved, but no sound emerged. After twenty or so seconds, she opened her eyes again.

"Farrah will meet you outside a restaurant called Starlight, located in the second ring."

"Thanks."

Randel smiled, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. The strap was fraying slightly at the edges, a detail he suddenly noticed in contrast to the elegant travelers surrounding them.

As he walked away, weaving through the crowded station, he couldn't help but think how handy that spell must be—able to communicate over long distances without a magitech device.

It would probably take Farrah some time to get away from the academy, so he decided to explore a bit beforehand. The station opened onto a grand plaza, where vendors had set up colorful stalls selling everything from street food to trinkets, taking advantage of the festival atmosphere. The scent of fried dough and spiced meats filled the air.

When Randel finally arrived at Starlight, Farrah was already waiting, dressed in her academy uniform. The black and gold ensemble looked striking against her dark skin, and Randel found himself picturing how he'd look in his own when he started attending in just over a week.

"Randel!"

Farrah spotted him, her face lighting up with a brilliant smile. She rushed forward, weaving through the outdoor tables where patrons dined beneath awnings. She enveloped him in a tight hug.

"I missed you so much!"

"Missed you too."

Randel returned the embrace, surprised at how good it felt to see her again. Her familiar scent—something floral with hints of spice—brought back memories of countless adventures in Dynosis.

"What have you been up to? How's the academy? Do I need to beat anyone up?"

Farrah laughed, the sound as musical as he remembered. She pulled back from the hug.

"You're not beating anyone up."

"Oh really? Watch this."

Randel grabbed Farrah's hand, then snapped the fingers of his free hand.

The world around them seemed to freeze—people walking, talking, eating—everything suspended in a moment of perfect stillness. A waiter remained fixed in mid-stride, a tray of drinks tilted at what should have been a disastrous angle.

"What in Pater's name is this?"

Farrah's mouth dropped open, her eyes wide as she looked around at the frozen scene. Her free hand reached out tentatively toward a suspended leaf that had been falling from a nearby decorative tree.

Four seconds later, time resumed its normal flow. People looked around in confusion for a moment before continuing about their day, the brief disruption already forgotten. The waiter completed his step, the tray remaining perfectly balanced.

Randel grinned, unable to contain his pride.

"I unlocked a new spell."

"No way!"

Farrah slapped his arm playfully.

"Tell me all about it!"

"After you left, I started attending some dueling circuits back in Dynosis."

Randel explained, his excitement building. They moved to the side of the street, out of the main flow of pedestrian traffic. A street performer nearby was creating elaborate ice sculptures with magic, drawing a small crowd.

"Fighting against other kids our age before they went off to military school. Your father's guards helped too, and two days ago, this happened."

He gestured around them, to where everything had momentarily frozen.

"It's called Stasis. I can cause everything to slow so much it seems like they're stopped in time. Only lasts for a few seconds, but I can beat the heck out of people before they even realize what's happening."

"That's insane!"

Farrah's eyes sparkled with genuine excitement as she bounced slightly on her toes.

Randel felt his cheeks warm at her praise, one hand rising to rub the back of his neck.

"I know."

"And I still have the same two spells I arrived with."

Farrah sighed, a hint of frustration breaking through her enthusiasm.

"Really? I thought the academy was supposed to be super hardcore, with the best of the best."

"It is."

Farrah assured him. They began walking along the street, passing shops with window displays showcasing everything from magitech to the latest fashions from the capital.

"And I've been working hard, but it just hasn't happened yet, you know?"

"Yeah, I do."

Randel nodded, remembering his own struggles before his breakthroughs. The frustration of training for hours with nothing to show for it.

"Have you tried joining the duel circuits? It might help."

"If only you knew how much dueling I've been doing."

Farrah shook her head.

"I feel like I'm fighting every day."

"That sounds like a lot of fun."

Randel grinned, dodging another playful swat from Farrah.

"Of course you'd say that when you can not only see three seconds into the future, but also freeze time!"

"Slow time, not freeze."

Randel corrected with a chuckle, his hand brushing against hers as they walked side by side.

"I can't wait to join the combat team at the academy."

Farrah went silent at that, her expression becoming thoughtful. Her steps slowed slightly, forcing Randel to adjust his pace.

"What's wrong?"

"I never thought about that."

Farrah said slowly, absently adjusting one of the small gold buttons on her sleeve.

"What kind of clubs would be open once the official term starts."

Randel frowned, his brow furrowing slightly.

"You mean the academy won't have any combat teams?"

"They probably will. It's kind of a big thing to have, especially for military academies. It's just... I was wondering about other options."

Farrah shook her head, dismissing the thought. A street vendor called out to them, offering spiced nuts in paper cones, but she waved him off with a polite smile.

"But seriously though, congratulations."

"Thanks."

Randel smiled, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with his magic. The streets were growing more crowded as they approached what appeared to be the center of the festival activities.

"So, are we just going to stand here all day, or are you going to show me around?"

"I don't have that much time."

Farrah admitted.

"But I can show you the places I've been to."

"What do you mean you don't have that much time?"

Randel asked, his disappointment evident in his voice. He'd been looking forward to spending the day exploring the city with her.

"I'm supposed to be at the duel hall in a few hours."

"Farrah Heartland!"

Randel gasped in mock horror, placing a hand over his heart.

"You've turned into a combat maniac since I've been gone, haven't you?"

Farrah laughed. A passing noble couple glanced their way, then quickly looked away when they recognized Farrah's uniform.

"Stop it. It's just something some students from the academy put together."

She glanced at him, a hint of shyness in her expression. Her fingers played with the end of one dark curl, twisting it absently.

"You can come if you want."

"Oh, you bet I'm coming."

Randel declared, offering his arm with exaggerated formality. His sleeve was slightly wrinkled, the fabric nowhere near as fine as her uniform, but his posture mimicked the noble escorts he'd seen in Dynosis.

Farrah smiled, linking her arm through his with the practiced grace of nobility. Together they headed deeper into the city, the sounds of the festival growing louder around them, colorful banners fluttering overhead in the afternoon breeze.