The Combat class was different than the other classes.

For one, it was held in one large open field that was surrounded by the walls of the Academy on two adjacent sides and woods on the other. The field looked large enough to accommodate hundreds of students. There were no chairs or tables. The students were scattered around in groups, talking within their own circles of friends.

Most of the students did not pay much attention to him at all. And that suited him just fine. He had calmed down from the night before. And now Balsea and he chatted about random things as well as the things that they learned in their classes. He found that while Balsea was very much versed in the practical side of magic - or energy manipulation, as he called it - the knowledge of humans, their ways, their terminologies, their creative use of mana - these were all new to him. His dark purple eyes always lit up when he spoke about something that interested him and Emilio found himself nodding along.

Some of the students around them were noticing them right now. Thankfully, none of them tried to make a scene or move away. Some sniffed in mild annoyance. Emilio ignored them and spoke with his friend.

“This class takes place once a week, right?”

Balsea nodded.

“Twice a week, for the fourth year students. Since it is their last year and they would go out into the world soon. This is especially for those who want to join any Knight Orders or go Adventuring.”

Emilio nodded. “Who takes the Combat class?”

“Well, I heard that it was someone called Professor Lewis until last year. But he decided to take a break this year and someone else is filling in in his place.”

“Who?” He asked softly.

“Theodore Sullivan.”

Emilio blinked at them, wondering if the fae was joking with him. It didn’t seem like it. Would a fae know about their political society that much to pull such a joke on him?

“Theodore Sullivan?” He asked. “You’re sure?”

Balsea nodded. “That was what he introduced himself as.” They tilted their head. “Why do you ask?”

“That’s …” He knew of only one Theodore Sullivan. And who did not know the Sullivan family? “Balsea … by Theodore Sullivan, do you mean the current Duke Sullivan?”

“Yes,” a deep, baritone voice spoke up from behind him. “He does mean the current Duke Sullivan.”

Emilio felt goosebumps on his neck. He realized there was a presence behind him that felt like it was dwarfing him. He turned around and took one step back, looking up at the figure now in front of him, only for his green eyes to meet dark ruby red ones.

It was the same man he had met when he had been coming out of the Staff Tower. The rude one. He had hoped not to meet him again. It seemed his hopes were in vain, once again.

“Oh, Professor Sullivan!” Balsea exclaimed from beside him. “Good morning!”

The man did not acknowledge Balsea with anything more than a shallow nod, his entire attention on Emilio.

“I am Theodore Sullivan,” the man said, raising an eyebrow. “And right now, I am your Professor. I hope you do not have a problem with that, Mister Florian.”

Emilio still couldn’t avert his eyes, couldn’t move his gaze away from the man’s visage. Perhaps, it was because he permeated authority that just dared anyone to challenge him, or perhaps it was the slight look of pity in his eyes that had Emilio raising his hackles. Whatever the case, he held the man’s stare, despite the fact that the man would probably disapprove of him for it. His gut twisted, however, at doing something he was so not used to doing.

“No, Professor,” he replied steadily.

He nodded. “Good.” He leaned in. “Because if you have a problem now, you won’t last once your combat training truly starts.”

Emilio resisted the urge to lean back and look away. The man was trying to intimidate him, trying to get him to back out of the class. He clenched his teeth.

“I shall try my best to last, Professor.”

There was a long moment where the man just … stared at him. And Emilio refused to divert his gaze, looking the man in the eyes. It felt like a silent tug of war. Finally, Theodore Sullivan straightened and nodded down at him.

“See that you do.”

With that, he walked away.

“What was that?” Balsea whispered beside him.

“No idea,” Emilio whispered back.

Theodore Sullivan.

Duke Sullivan.

Even though Emilio did not go out o the Barony before this, he knew the political landscape of the country. It was the education every noble child got. And even without the education, everyone knew who Theodore Sullivan was.

The Sullivan was the only Duchy in the Kingdom.

The Royal Family had the power of Light, which represented life. It was signified by their golden hair and golden eyes. Loved and respected.

The Sullivan Family had the power of Shadow, representing death, which was signified by their raven black hair and ruby red eyes. Feared and respected.

These were the only two families who could wield these elements respectively.

During the Era of the Elementals, they had been the most powerful families. The families were small individually but they wielded great power, and as such, no one dared challenged them. The people under their respective territories were safe. The history was fuzzy on the whys and hows of it but towards the end of the Third War of the Elementals, the two families joined hands to create the Kingdom of Aeloria at the center of the continent around 3000 years ago. The Aeloron became the Royal Family and the Sullivan became their most powerful vassals. And after that, there were many conflicts and battles for expansion and domination, both by and against Aeloria. Aeloria stood still and prospered for the past two millennia despite it all and now stood as the most powerful Kingdom of the continent.

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Theodore Sullivan had been the prodigy among prodigies in the Sullivan family. The second son of the previous Duke and Duchess, he had been destined for greatness in Aeloria without having to bear the responsibility of the Duchy. His older brother, older than him by 12 years, had inherited the Duchy when Theodore had stepped into his teenage years. He had entered the Academy and almost breezed through it. He had been the youngest Mage to enter Expert Level at 18. Everyone had been looking forward to what he could accomplish.

But just after he graduated, his brother and his wife died in his own home. Some said it was an accident, some said it was a premeditated assassination, and yet some said that he lost himself in his own Shadows, which then killed him. Whatever the reason, the end result was that the Duke and Duchess were dead, leaving Theodore with the responsibility of the Duchy at a mere 19 years of age as well as the responsibility of the toddling nephew who had survived.

He knew that Theodore Sullivan very quickly established his position and power, and named his little nephew the Heir to the Duchy. No one was able to oppose him. He had established himself as a powerful figure in Aeloria in the past 5 years.

So then, why was this powerful figure here at the Academy, teaching some adolescents always on the verge of exploding at each other? Why was this distinguished figure here as a Professor instead of taking care of his Duchy? Surely, this was an utter waste of his time.

Something poked him in the head.

Emilio broke out of his musings and looked up … only to find a dark, snake like … thing twisting in the air. His gaze followed its body and found that it was connected to the ground … to the shadows. He startled and stepped back, his head whipping around until he found the source of the shadow. There, a few feet away, stood Theodore Sullivan with his arms crossed and a disapproving Fownhope on his face.

"If you're done daydreaming, Mister Florian, shall we start the class?"

Emilio flushed slightly before nodding. “Yes, Professor. I apologize.”

The man scoffed before turning to the rest of the class. “Alright, class. As always, the first half hour of the class is weapons training. And then one hour after that will be your sparring sessions. Get your weapon of choice and start warming up. If I see anyone slacking, that will be ten laps around the field!”

Emilio was about to open his mouth to call the man when he turned around to face him. “You do not have a weapon yet, am I right?”

Emilio nodded slowly.

The man sighed. “Come with me. No, Balsea, you cannot,” he said when Balsea stepped forward as well. “Stay here and start training.”

Balsea slumped and Emilio suppressed a smile as he followed the man towards a small door situated towards the corner of the adjacent walls. The man opened the door and gestured inside.

"Go ahead. Pick up your weapon of choice. Once you are done for the day, you will leave your weapon to the designated armory for your year."

He nodded to the four other doors that lined the wall. Each door had a sign over it, for each year.

He gave a small nod and walked inside, eyes widening at the large room and the assortment of weapons that were scattered across the room. A soft gasp left his throat and he went to closes rack where there different kinds of axes and hammers lining each step. His eyes fell onto the knives hanging onto the wall behind the rack, and he stepped forward to examine them.

"Don't waste your time dawdling around" the man behind him said. "Choose one. If you're having problems, I can choose for you."

Emilio looked behind himself, holding back a frown of annoyance. He shook his head. "No, sir. I can find one myself."

He made a beeline for the section that seemed to have all sorts of swords, of different sizes and sharpness, all laid out in racks or hanging on the walls. He tried out a few that looked similar to his training sword back home but they just didn't feel right.

Finally, his eyes fell on a medium sized sword which had a little more length and, once he picked it up, a little less weight than his own training sword. He experimentally swung it once and found it to have a good balance. It felt like something he could use easily.

"This one," He said softly as he turned to the Professor still standing at the door.

This time, the man nodded and then beckoned him. "Come on. Your classmates have been focused solely on their weapons training the past few months. You'll need to catch up to them."

Emilio followed the man out of the armory, and he led Emilio towards an empty section in the field.

"Can I assume that you have had some sort of training in your home?"

Emilio nodded in answer.

"Show me."

Emilio took a deep breathe and then parted his legs, shoulder length, before bringing his sword up. He cautiously moved his swords through the first few basic movements he'd been taught when he first started learning swordsmanship. Once he was sure of his grip of the sword, he shed his cautiousness and became more confident in his swings. Soon enough, he was back in his old routine, swishing and spinning the sword through the air in the forms of Aelorian swordsmanship, basic to intermediate to advanced. It was almost as if he was back in how own courtyard, dancing through the small space with the sword in his hand as Captain Killian watched.

He stabbed the sword backwards and spun, bringing the sword up with a swish as he moved into the last stance. The posture ended with his sword just hair's breadth away from the side of the man's neck. The man stood still, arms crossed and stoic yes observing Emilio. After a long time, he spoke.

"I see you've trained well," he said.

Emilio had the feeling he had passed some sort of test.

"Captain Killian is a taskmaster," Emilio replied, shifting slightly as he felt uncomfortable with the sudden praise.

"Well, you can defend yourself from weapons at least," the man nodded. "Against magic, however … you'd be as helpless as a newborn infant."

Emilio could say nothing to that. It was true.

However, Theodore wasn't finished.

"Well, if we can integrate some proper defensive mechanism into your sword, you can probably deflect magic enough to survive. For that, however," He stepped forward, into Emilio's space, "you'll have to be a little less rigid."

Theodore walked behind him and then graped his hand that was holding the sword. Emilio tensed. The man was broad and had almost a head of height over him. He felt vulnerable.

"Relax."

With the almost non-existent gap between them, Emilio could feel the rumble of the man's chest as he spoke. He felt warm with how close the man was to him.

"You need to loosen your joints a bit. Free your wrist a bit more, like this." The man gently rotated his wrist, the sword along with it. "Stop gripping it so hard. Roll your shoulders a bit. Relax your stance. That's it. Don't think of the sword as just a weapon to attack, also think of it as a shield, a deflector. Having a more relaxed movement will help you use both the edge and the flat side of the sword. Got it?"

Emilio breathed shakily and nodded.

The man stepped back after a moment and Emilio let out of sigh of relief.

The Professor once again stood in front of him. "Try moving the sword with just your wrist for now. It will be difficult. You'll need to adjust to the weight of the sword with just your wrist. But do try it. If you can manage to do it, you'll be able to use it to defend against magic from a distance."

Emilio nodded and did as he was told. He started to move his wrist, and found thag the man was right. It was hard to move the sword with just his wrist and the first few times, he started moving his elbow as well. Professor Sullivan caught him every time and kept holding it for a few moments as he got used to the wrist movement again.

He was just starting to get used to the movement when he heard the man speka uo again.

"Alright, that's it for now. We will continue tomorrow."

Emilio looked up at him, half ready to protest. But the man had already turned away. He realized that many of the students were winding down and realized that the time for weapons training must be over.

Theodore walked to the center of the field and spoke, his voice booming across the field.

"Well done, everyone," He said. "Weapons training is over for today. We will take a ten minutes break and get to sparring. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Echoed across the field.

Emilio sighed and sat down tight at the spot, laying the sword down beside him, gently massaging his wrist to relieve the ache he was starting to feel, his mind running a mile a minute.

Sparring, huh?

He had never sparred with anyone but Captain Killian and his father's trusted Knights.

He hoped it would go well.