The Marquis dismissed me, and I returned to the dueling arena with a lot to think about. But first, I had to grab the kids and return to the orphanage. We still had half a day to celebrate Ilya’s birthday, and I wanted to make the most of it. She deserved it.
I found Firana alone, practicing with the Aias Sword inside the private fencing room. The girl moved in circles around an invisible opponent, swinging her sword in wide arcs over her head. I watched the spectacle in awe. Firana’s movements were rhythmic and controlled, as if she was performing for an invisible crowd. Then, she suddenly spun, and a flame tongue emerged from the Aias Sword. It was beautiful.
“You don’t want to burn the Great Hall down to its foundations, do you?” I jokingly asked from the doorway.
Firana tripped over her feet and almost fell.
“You were watching?!” she asked, all flustered.
I nodded, entering the fencing room and grabbing a sword from the wall. Firana just watched me. After seeing Firana performing only once, I could make an educated guess about the base movements. I stood in the middle of the room with my feet shoulder apart and the sword high in the air. Then, I started imitating her movements. Step to the right, wide sword arc, recover, and half spin.
Despite not being swordplay in the strict sense, I could see how the dance helped get used to footwork. My old HEMA instructor liked to practice dance moves to help us ‘loosen’ our feet. Firana’s dance was less flashy than Earth’s sword dances and more like a stylized sword drill. Beautiful yet practical.
“Not bad,” Firana said, sheathing her sword.
“A traditional dance?” I asked when I finished the whole circle around my invisible opponent.
“A family tradition,” she sparsely replied.
I took it as a sign to change the topic. If Firana weren’t ready to talk about her family, I wouldn’t push her.
“Where are the others?” I asked.
Firana was alone in the room, despite my conversation with the Marquis not taking enough time for the kids to get bored and return to the orphanage on their own.
“Istvan Kiln took them to see the royal skeeths. I remained here to let you know… I already saw them the other day,” Firana shrugged, just to add quickly. “They’ll be okay. Zaon is too cautious to get close to anything with sharp teeth, and Ilya will prevent Wolf from wrestling them.”
“I guess you are right,” I said. “Shall we go get them?”
“Let’s go,” she nodded.
The enchanted door connecting the audience room to the Marquis's quarters wasn’t locked inside. The audience room was empty. There was no trace of Guardsmen or any sort of security detail. We continued our way to the main entrance in silence. I was still thinking about Firana’s sword dance when a System Prompt popped into my eyes. I could swear the System did it on purpose; so far, I had never seen anyone getting jumpscared like me.
New title acquired!
Favorite Teacher (98): Going to school isn’t that bad with you on the whiteboard.
Reward: Slightly increased mana pool (98).
“Are you okay, Mr. Clarke?” Firana asked.
“Yeah, someone is probably saying good things about me,” I said, resuming my walk. I wondered which one of the three kids just realized how good of a teacher I was. Ilya, probably.
Firana glanced at me in confusion but didn’t pay it much attention. Most of the orphanage was used to me talking about seemingly nonsensical stuff, mostly slang that didn’t translate well into Farcrest’s language.
My thoughts were short-lived because the mana reward from the title pushed the Corruption back. It was pure bliss, like stretching the legs after a long flight. I sneaked a peek under my jacket. The black patch of Corruption was almost gone. Firana gave me another curious glance.
Out of nowhere, my mind was violently assaulted with information. Firana’s expression wasn’t curiosity; it was admiration. She had grown two centimeters and gained some weight. The stream of information didn’t stop there. It revealed even the slightest details I had overlooked since I had lost [Awareness]. Firana’s freckles were slightly more pigmented, and she had cut her hair four centimeters on the left side and three and a half on the right side. Her left wrist was slightly swollen. Her lips were dry, which hinted at slight dehydration.
I took a deep breath and put a saddle to my thoughts. [Awareness] was finally free. I had forgotten how unhinged the skill was. I made a mental effort to tone it down before it started disclosing unnecessary information about the age of the trees used to make the ceiling’s beams.
“You cut your hair,” I pointed out as we reached the inhabited area of the Great Hall.
“You noticed? Does it look strange?” Firana turned her head, and [Awareness] fed me information about her facial expression. Fear, anticipation, hope.
‘I didn’t notice until I got my [Awareness] back’, although true, was probably the wrong answer. I was wise enough to know ‘It is uneven’ was the worst possible answer of them all. ‘You look the same always’ didn’t sound any better. I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for needing the support of a skill to notice changes in my students.
“You look great. It looks lighter,” I said.
“Nice. I used scissors instead of a sword this time,” Firana replied with a wide smile. Satisfaction, pride, embarrassment.
I hoped she was joking. [Awareness] immediately hinted that she wasn’t.
In the vestibule, the swarm of nobles had abandoned their vantage point on the second floor and now flooded the flanks of the base floor. I quickened my step. Usually, that was enough to dissuade anyone from engaging in conversation. Looking busy was an art.
[Awareness] warned me about the dozens of eyes following us through the room.
In the center of the room was a group of people who didn’t belong to any noble house I had seen during the army’s arrival. Long white and yellow tunics, jeweled headbands, and opulent weaponry. Save for a few old men and women who looked like clerics, most of them wore golden masks. The matching outfits made me think they weren't regular nobles but members of a society or sect.
“I think the masked ones are Zealots from The Voice of the System,” Firana whispered.
Details that otherwise would’ve passed unnoticed to my eyes now were clear as day. System Zealots wore tight-fitted fencing uniforms and flexible boots under the tunics and jewelry. Their shoulders tensed as if they were about to jump forward, and despite the golden ornaments, their weapons were sharp and deadly. They weren’t priests but trained combatants.
I had enough dealing with noble intrigue to add a cult to the equation.
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[Awareness] fed me with information about my surroundings. In the center of the vestibule, The Zealots were conversing with a small group of nobles with the crest of the White Tower. I remember the insignias from the kingdom’s map. The White Tower was House Osgiria’s symbol.
On the sidelines, two big groups of nobles caught my attention. Like flies attracted by manure, minor nobles swirled around the House of the olive branches and the House of the black hammer against the sun. House Gairon and House Herran, respectively. Along with the House Osgiria, they were the three big dukedoms against the creation of the path toward the Elven Kingdom of Tagabiria.
“Let’s go grab the others. We don’t have anything else to do here,” I said, hoping the presence of the System Zealots was enough to let us go through the vestibules without being addressed by any of the nobles.
Firana didn’t answer. I turned around, but the girl was nowhere to be found. I had only looked at the Zealots for a second. [Awareness] suddenly stabbed my brain, and a cold sweat covered my body. Danger. I turned around to see a royal soldier with the golden stag imprinted in his armor had Firana firmly grabbed by the neck.
Firana frantically scratched the metal gauntlet.
Without thinking, I channeled dangerous amounts of mana directly from the Fountain and slammed it forward with all my strength. Sparks and arcs of energy crackled through the Great Hall. A wall of solid mana crashed against the soldier, sending him flying into the opposite wall like a disjointed ragdoll. Firana fell to her knees, fighting for oxygen.
I cursed. The fight was on. [Awareness] searched my memories for advice about fighting foes with unknown classes and levels.
Sir Janus’s words resonated in my head as [Awareness] projected the man’s face before my eyes. He moved his beard to the side, revealing a gruesome scar that went from the man’s jaw to his right ear.
‘I’d rather finish the fight before they could use their skills on me.’
‘Luck was on my side that day.’
On the other hand, my father taught me to never cheapshot an opponent. I hoped he could understand. My priority was to keep Firana safe.
[Awareness] had only taken an instant of my time. I moved my hands in a wide arc, stirring the raw, white mana around me. The Corruption in my chest gripped my flesh like red-hot shackles; however, this time, [Mana Mastery] channeled the mana around the corrupted area. I ignored the pain, knowing that I could push things further. Four soldiers still surrounded Firana.
I didn’t hold back. Ripping all the white mana out of the air, I shaped it into a giant fist and blasted forward. Two soldiers were fast enough to dodge; the others weren’t so lucky. I felt the blow as if I had used my own fist. Chairs and tables were smashed into splinters. Armor dented and crumpled under the blow. Luckily, the dark stone of the pillars endured the attack without chipping. I jumped forward and stood between the remaining soldiers and Firana.
My moment for a surprise attack passed. I had eliminated over half of my opponents, but it wasn’t enough. I dispelled the giant’s fist and reformed the mana into a swarm of swords and long, sharp-edged shards, creating a barrier between us and the soldiers.
How they calmly analyzed my attack made me think they were seasoned warriors. Mana surged through their bodies, and the man before me disappeared.
As the soldier reappeared above me, I raised my mana shield. He threw an axe-kick to my head, but the shield resisted. The energy of the impact painfully went through my body. My legs faltered as my own barrier pressed me down. Before I could get up, the man kicked me in the ribs. Pain exploded behind my eyes, blinding me for a second. I rolled away and jumped to my feet, drawing my rapier. I didn’t have time to identify my attacker. Mana swirled around his feet, speeding him up to the point it was hard to follow with the eyes.
[Swordsmanship] and [Awareness] filled my brain with information. Speed, trajectory, angles of attack. My opponent raised his mana-covered fists and came straight for me. I surrounded the blade with mana and countered his kick with the tip of my sword. It felt as if I had stabbed a solid wall of concrete. Uneasiness took over my mind. The mere idea of a person so brazenly exceeding the physical limits of the human body sent a shudder down my body. Such an individual scared me more than any Corrupted monster I had faced before.
I launched my mana shards from all possible angles, but the soldier didn’t bother dodging. A shining barrier covered his body, rendering the attack useless. He pressed the attack with a flurry of punches and kicks. His skin was hard as steel, and his fists were heavy as rocks. My footwork could barely keep up with the attack, even if I was assisted by [Swordsmanship], [Awareness], [Light Footed], and the flying mana blades.
[Awareness] screamed at me that I had been ignoring the second soldier all this time. As I had a moment to breathe, I surveyed the vestibules, preparing my mana shield for the impact. Three white-robed figures stood guard around Firana. Their golden masks prevented me from seeing their faces. Two more Zealots of the Voice of the System tended to the wounded while the last one subdued the remaining soldier. Around us, the courtiers looked at the fight with amused expressions behind the safety of a Fortifier’s mana barrier.
A wave of relief washed over me. Firana was safe.
Suddenly, a masked Zealot appeared beside me. [Awareness] hadn’t warned me. My first reaction was to brace myself for the impact and pray for the barrier to hold up, but the Zealot didn’t move against me. Instead, the masked figure put an arm over my shoulder, pinning me in place.
Three masked Zealots materialized from thin air around the stag soldier, grabbing his arms and aiming at his throat with curved daggers. The soldier slowly raised his hands and gave me a murderous glance.
“Thieves belong to the gallows,” he grunted before he was dragged from the vestibule.
Was it too late to tell him I was also on the royalist side?
“Are you okay, Robert Clarke?” The masked Zealot in front of me asked with a feminine voice. [Awareness] refused to give me information about her. She was a couple of centimeters smaller than me, but what caught my attention was the wolf-like ears protruding from two cutouts in her white cloak.
Beastfolk.
“Do we know each other?” I asked, ignoring the pain from the blows.
“Yes and no,” she replied.
I lacked the energy to feel annoyed.
Firana was sitting on the floor while a masked Zealot kneeled in front of her, casting a radiating light from the palms of its hands. I didn’t bother checking on the victims of my magical attack; instead, I went directly to Firana.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a hoarse voice. A dark bruise dyed the skin of her neck.
Anger boiled inside me, but it was too late to retaliate against the perpetrators, as the Zealots were already taking them away from the vestibule. On some small level, I knew my anger was wrongly aimed at the soldiers. I didn’t need [Awareness] to understand why they were after Firana. Like Risha, they believed the Aias had been stealing the money they had sent to their homes.
I even understood their anger. I would feel the same if, after years of fighting away from home, my family thought I had abandoned them. I sighed, tired. Ultimately, the soldier’s aggression was just a symptom of a bigger problem: Kellaren Odrac-Aias.
Ignoring the Zealots, I wrapped up Firana into a hug.
“It’s okay, Firana. It was not your fault,” I replied, even if the words sounded empty.
At that moment, the Marquis stormed into the vestibule. The room’s temperature seemed to rise several degrees as a flaming aura filled the area. The atmosphere was so oppressive that I couldn’t breathe for a moment. I had screwed up.
No matter how much I pressed [Awareness], I couldn’t find enough excuse to disarm the situation. In a single fight, I had put the System Zealots against royal soldiers while making them look like subpar, violent goons in front of the rest of the nobles. As expected, the Marquis's face paled when he saw that my victims were members of the royal army.
“You better start explaining things, Tauron,” a man’s soft voice reached my ears, and suddenly, the vestibule fell into a sepulchral silence.
A slender young man with curly white hair and delicate features dressed in simple gold and emerald garments emerged from the shadows. The nobles instantly opened a way and lowered their heads. His presence was overwhelming. He was the kind of man who didn’t need to demonstrate anything. No bellowing voice, no dramatic entrance. When he spoke, everyone else listened. When he walked, everyone else made way.
“My Lord, I…” the Marquis stuttered. “I’m extremely ashamed for…”
Only one person in the kingdom could make the Marquis act like a reprimanded lap dog. The crowned prince. [Awareness] told me the obvious. I was neck-deep in trouble.
“Silence, I don’t want apologies, ” the prince said, passing by the Marquis' side and walking towards me. He gave me a cold smile. “I just want to know why you hid such a fine mage from me.”
A murmur ran through the crowd, and suddenly, all eyes fell on me.
“Who are you, friend?” the prince asked. “A Sorcerer? An Evoker, maybe?”
The Marquis stepped forward before I could open my mouth.
“This man is Robert Clarke, the instructor at the Rosebud Fencing Academy, My Lord,” the Marquis said. “He is a Scholar.”
The prince blinked in confusion, and the vestibule broke into murmurs.