I am in one of Kierra’s personal hells. This time, it’s endurance training. Alana and I stripped off our normal practice garbs and were given thin linen substitutes before being tied to wooden posts. Her helpers are currently hitting our abs with flat, wooden clubs that vaguely resemble oars, and not gently either.

Apparently, this is supposed to make our muscles stronger. Personally, I think my wife has skipped all the pretense and is just outright beating us, but it’s difficult to argue the point with my hands tied over my head. No point asking the acolytes in charge of the exercise for leniency. I have no clue what she’s done to them but Kierra has her helpers firmly under her thumb.

Alana has been shooting me death glares for several minutes, teeth grit and eyes blazing. I feel a little bad. This is a bit too harsh a fate for losing a drinking contest. She’s benefiting from this, more than she knows, but that won’t stop her from hating me.

Maybe I should get her something nice.

An explosion of sound distracts me from my thoughts on possible presents. I look into the distance, squinting as I try to catch a glimpse of the cause, but am promptly distracted by the next hit to the stomach.

Oi, come on! You people are too dedicated!

Luckily, the second echoing boom catches everyone’s attention, as it’s much closer. Again, I try to see the cause and this time, I can make out two dark shapes in the distance, rapidly approaching the field. Stupid crowd. If there weren’t so many witnesses about, I’d swap my eyes out but I have to wait like everyone else.

To my surprise, the shapes quickly resolve into people and I recognize the one in the lead. Marcus is sprinting over the grass for all he’s worth, his flailing limbs and torn clothes speaking to his desperation. Behind him is Samuel, sword drawn.

“Traitor!” the prince shouts. He swings his sword and the enchantment along the blade lights up.

Thanks to the shouted warning, Marcus throws himself forward. I can’t see the attack but the effects are big enough for everyone to see. A huge crater forms on the ground, quickly obscured by a cloud of dust that the prince comes charging out of.

His likely ex-manservant has already scrambled to his feet. His head whips back and forth before focusing on our class. Is he—the bastard is! He’s running toward us, faster than before.

Don’t get us involved in your mess! Ugh, this is the worse time to be bound. “Hey!” I shout at one of Kierra’s helpers who is standing frozen like the rest of the class. “Get us down from here!” I bark, yanking at the rope keeping me in place.

I sneer when he hesitates. Seriously, I have to ask what my wife is doing to these boys. “Whatever you think she’s going to do for untying us, I promise you, letting her wife get hit by whatever that was is a lot worse!”

That gets him moving. Pulling a knife from his belt, he cuts the ropes over my wrists. Alana is next and she doesn’t stop to thank him before running to where her armor and sword are.

“How annoying,” Kierra says, coming to stand beside me as I watch them come closer. “I’m quite disappointed in the Hall’s security.”

“You’re telling me.” It’d be great if an instructor could come floating down when you really need them rather than when they want to ruin your life.

“And their instruction is clearly lacking. He must have passed countless casters to go from the Center Hall to us. Someone should have already intervened.”

“Well, it’s not surprising. That’s a prince, you know.” I wouldn’t get involved. “Oh, he’s here.”

Marcus reaches the class, slowing down as he makes for Kierra. “Help, please!” he gasps, sweat pouring down the side of his face. “The prince has gone insane!”

Kierra sighs. She snaps her fingers twice and my previous tormentors appear at her side. He gives them a suspicious glance and she smiles. “Your caution is deserved. I know exactly why the prince might want your head so don’t think you’ll get any pity. Sit down, hands on your head, and wait quietly. I’ll guarantee you’ll live long enough to face judgment.”

He swallows heavily. A glance over his shoulder at the quickly approaching prince and his shoulders sag. With a sigh, he drops to the grass, slowly putting his hands on his head. At the same time, Alana arrives, sword drawn.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

I wave away her concern. “Just a prince throwing a tantrum.” Really, what is he thinking? Going around trying to smite someone. Doesn’t he understand that Marcus is already guaranteed a fate worse than death? This ridiculous posturing is only troubling others.

“So, you’ve finally accepted your fate!” the prince huffs as he slides to a stop at the edge of the field. His eyes are glued to his enemy at first but eventually, he looks up, noticing the rest of us. He gaze sharpens as it lands on me then bounces to Kierra. “…I see.”

Hm? What’s with that tone? Why are you looking at me like that?

“How could I have been so blind? It all makes sense now.” The crazy bastard levels his sword…at me. “This is why you tried to get close to me and used that disgusting magic on Cecilia. You are part of his plot!”

…eh?

No, no, no! How did you jump to that conclusion? It’s the exact opposite!

“I suggest you put your toy down, little prince,” Kierra says, her voice not reflecting an ounce of worry. “Unsanctioned violence is strictly prohibited by the Hall. Continue and there will be no one to save you from your own folly.” She takes a step toward him.

“Stay back!” He raises his sword toward her. “Filthy knife-eared freak! I wondered how that trash got the courage to betray the kingdom. It was your kind plotting against my family.” He suddenly straightens up. “Do you mean to start a war!?”

Ah, he’s lost it. I don’t know if it’s the shock of betrayal or fear, but he’s slipping into hysteria. This is when someone very unthreatening with a nice, soft voice calms him down, wraps him in a fluffy blanket, and tells him the monsters aren’t real.

Instead, he has my wife and her mocking smile, daring him to do something he will undoubtedly regret.

“You’ll pay for this. You and all those green beasts!”

“Watch it!” I snap. There’s only so much someone can take.

They turn to me, expressions opposite. Kierra is wearing her bloodthirsty smile which makes my stomach twist with dread while the prince’s sneer pisses me off.

“This is good timing.” Kierra turns her back on the prince, which clearly offends him but at the same time, his shoulders relax at the de-escalation. She walks over, towering over me. “I was just talking with the pet that you need practical experience. Originally, we would have waited for your initiate year to end and taken you on a proper hunt but why waste a golden opportunity.”

“You don’t mean…”

“I do.” She looks over her shoulder to Samuel, fidgeting as his panic wars with the last shreds of his good sense. “He should make a decent opponent. And what better way to leave behind your childish fear.”

“Just because it’s been ingrained since childhood doesn’t make my fears childish,” I hiss. “Besides, wouldn’t it be better for you to handle this? As an instructor, you have all the justification you need.”

“I’m sure you can goad him into attacking first and you’ll have similar justification.”

Our eyes meet and we wage a silent war. The weight of my exasperation is crushing and I follow up with a combo of pleading and reason but Kierra’s defense of shamelessness is too tough, her counter of visible excitement and a heated leer too strong. “If I can talk him down, I don’t have to fight.”

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“Agreed.”

Shoulders heaving with a defeated sigh, I move past her.

“Lou!?”

I wave Alana down. She doesn’t need to get involved in this.

With a clear target, the prince stops panicking and refocuses, his grip on his weapon tightening. I hold up my hands. “I need you to calm down and listen to me. I have nothing against you. I have nothing to do with this.”

“Liar!”

“Come on. Did you ever hear about me before the Pottoculli mess? I don’t do politics. I don’t care.” About you or him or any stupid plots. I got involved to keep you out of my life.

“…if you have nothing to do with this, then you will go before an interrogator.”

“Alright, sure.” Cheh. If the prince goes around accusing me of treason, I’ll probably have to do so anyway. They’re going to be thorough with this mess. Maybe, if I’m lucky, they’ll hand me off to Miss Talia since I’m a member of the Hall.

“Hand over the traitor.”

I look over my shoulder, meeting Marcus’ frantic look. Then I look toward my wife. More silent communication ensues. My narrowed eyes convey how happy I am to oblige while her curious tilt of the head asks if I’m sure. My glare evolves into a scowl and she shrugs, smile gaining a mocking edge.

Yeah, I know I can’t. There’s no law against it but it wouldn’t look good. Some might dare to say I was complicit in murder.

“Can’t do that,” I say through grit teeth. “Why do you have to kill him? If he’s done something wrong, the Hall will find out and bring him to justice.”

“That’s not good enough. That…filth. He stood next to me, shared my confidence, indulged in my favor. And all the while, he was plotting against me. Mocking me. He’s made me look like a buffoon!”

Wait.

“I treated him well! Better than any servant dares to dream of. And he repays me with treachery. How can I let this blight on my honor stand? I can only be satisfied when I have personally removed his head from his shoulders!”

My eyes close with…something. I can’t put a word to this feeling.

If I’ve got this right, this idiot has been running amok, throwing around deadly spells, breaking several laws, and pointed a weapon at us because…Marcus made him look bad? Because he was exposed for the idiot that he is and it…hurt his feelings?

…

I hate royals.

“I’m not moving,” I say tersely. “Don’t do anything stupid and walk away.”

“To think I started to believe your treachery.” Samuel sneers. “Of course you don’t want give up your compatriot. I will take your actions as an admission of guilt.”

I don’t bother responding, already building my first spell.

Being out in the open, I’m limited with what I can do. There’s of course, my fire affinity and wind can be discrete. As that’s not one of Geneva’s affinities, it’s not an area I’ve focused on, but it should be good enough. The physical affinity would be nice but with my natural shapeshifting abilities and Kierra’s training, we decided not to focus on offensive spells.

My greatest asset is undoubtedly this body of mine. Not my base form, but this body trained and melded by my wife. I’ve rarely had a chance to show off what I can do. Maybe that’s why Kierra is pushing me at this guy.

“My prince!”

My head snaps to the side to see Browyn running toward us. The prince takes the chance to attack. I see him, of course, but he made himself impossible to ignore with his bellowing war cry.

It’s laughably easy to dodge him, step forward, and launch a blow to his unprotected side. My fist meets resistance in the form of swirling water. A defensive spell? Pretty good but I’m a lot stronger than I look.

The water drains most of the momentum from my blow before I make contact. Still hear an “oof” as the prince stumbles back.

I don’t give him the chance to recover as I grab his wrist and twist. The sword drops from his hand but I’m forced to let go a moment later as a spike of earth rises from the ground, backpedaling.

With a twitch of his fingers and a quick rise of earth, Samuel launches the sword into the air and grabs it by the hilt. The runes along it light up as he slashes forward. I slot the last variables into the spell I’ve been holding.

Two spells. The first spell, Flame Shell, in its simplest form, coats the caster in flames. Geneva showed me how to properly alter and balance the intensity, volume, and distance variables to push it outwards in a dome, though stretching it too far is hell on mana. It’s considered a gag spell, mainly used for surprising pickpockets as flames weren’t very good at protecting anything. They are, however, flashy.

The second spell, Wind Buffer, I release right after. A spell holds the wind in front of me still, creating a barrier. Still lost in the specifics of how it works but if I pour a good chunk of my coefficient into it, it’s better than a knight’s shield.

Plus, it should be extra effective against the prince’s toy. Since I didn’t see anything when he used it on his fleeing manservant, it has to be a wind enchantment.

My ears tingle from the screaming wind as he releases the attack, my Flame Shell appearing at the same time. His attack blows the flimsy spell away but meets more stout resistance from the Wind Buffer. Our spells cancel each other and tear up the ground around me, billowing dust making my eyes water.

I think I hear someone call out to me but there’s no time to focus on that. I dash out of the dust cloud, blinking away tears. Samuel is more a blob than a man but it’s good enough. I see a blob arm wielding a longer blob and aim for it, throwing a simple Flame Arrow spell, a staple of any fire caster.

A shield of swirling water appears to block it. Unfortunately for the prince, it also hides me as I crouch, dashing toward him.

My hand reaches through the water, drawing a yelp as I grab him across the face and shove him forward. He again tries his earth spikes to force me away but I’m ready this time, jumping toward him. My full weight slams into him, sending us both to the ground.

I can end this right now. My grip hasn’t loosened a bit and, though I’m feeling a bit strained, I’ve got enough to burn his face off. Too bad this isn’t a fight to the death. “Surrender!”

“Never!” He tries to raise his toy, as if I’m stupid enough to let him. I grab his wrist again but instead of squeezing, I twist. There’s a sharp crack of his bone snapping, followed by his howl of pain, but the prince surprises me.

I see the earth swirling around his opposite arm before he raises a fist covered in stone, slamming it into my side.

It feels like Kierra tickling me.

“You hit worse than a woman,” I sneer, releasing his wrist. Whatever he’s going to respond with is replaced by choking as I punch him in the throat. And with him under my power, I feel all my frustration for this whole affair bubbling up. It’s entirely unnecessary but I punch him in the gut. His soft gut that hasn’t gone through a fraction of my ordeals and yet thinks it’s better than me.

“Why couldn’t you walk away?” I growl as I hit him again. He hits me again with his little rock fist. Stone is harder than skin but it means crap all if you can’t put any strength behind it. Like my blows, that make him groan in pain as I hammer his vulnerable body. “Stop causing me trouble, dammit! Just. Stop. Fucking! Struggling!”

After over a dozen blows, he goes limp. His arm falls to the ground, the useless dirt sliding off into a loose mound. I hit him once more to be sure, grunting in satisfaction when he whimpers. Like a beaten dog.

I slowly get off him and he curls up, arms over his side with his teeth grit. “You’ll be fine,” I grumble, grabbing his sword. Kierra will fix him right up.

I glance around and take in an interesting scene. Standing off to the side is a red-faced Browyn, his eyes tight as he stares at the fallen prince, one hand on the hilt of his sword. However, he can’t rush forward because Alana is standing in his way, tense and ready to cut him down if he tries. Brave girl, what are you doing challenging him? If he’s the bodyguard of a prince, his skill must be exceptional.

I know she alone isn’t holding him back. No doubt he can feel Kierra, who is standing protectively in front of her vic—er, students, watching the whole show. If he draws that sword, he’s just as wrong as Samuel and she’ll take him down in an instant.

“Relax!” I shout, drawing all eyes to me as I wave the sword over my head. Except Alana. She doesn’t take her eyes off the potential threat.

I reach down and grab Samuel by the collar, ignoring his groans and curses as I haul him to his feet. “The prince is fine,” I shout to Browyn as I drag said prince over to my wife. I throw him towards her and she catches him…also by his collar. We’re ruining that shirt.

He lets out a sigh of relief as she places a hand on his head, her healing easing his unformed bruises and aches. She drops him to the ground. “Sit still or I will be the one to beat you this time.”

He swears as he sits up but remains where he is. Looks like all the fight has gone out of him. Me holding his precious sword likely isn’t helping. He never attacked without it so I’m guessing he isn’t confident in his offensive abilities.

His spellcasting isn’t bad at all. I’m fast, faster than full-fledged knights if I had to wager. No other initiate could have gotten to him in the small moment after he released that wind spell, so I can understand why I caught him off guard. The prince has some skill, I’ll give him that.

Browyn approaches with a still tense Alana at his shoulder. He crouches next to the prince but Samuel promptly shoves him away. The young bodyguard isn’t discouraged, standing at Samuel’s back, looking far more relieved with his charge in one piece and no longer being pummeled into the dirt.

Alana gives him one more probing look before coming to stand by me. “You alright?”

“Fine.” I extend the sword toward her. “Want it?”

“Don’t joke,” she hisses.

I was kind of serious? Ah, well. I hold it out to Kierra who takes it, giving it a quick twirl. “Where’s a baldie when you need him?” I grumble, glaring at the empty sky.

“Instructors of the Hall don’t have much free time, Lou,” Kierra says, admiring the blade.

“Liar. You have all the time in the world.”

“I am sure you can agree that I am a deviation from normal practices. Hand me its scabbard?”

“Sure.” I walk over to Samuel and raise a brow. The prince glares at me, red-faced, but hands it over. His scowl deepens as I gesture for him to hand over the belt as well, but he obeys.

I hand them to my wife, getting a kiss for my efforts. She sheathes the blade before tying it to her waist. I wonder if they’ll let her keep it. She can talk fast when she wants to.

“Someone tie the boy up,” Kierra says breezily. “Prince, don’t cause trouble, hm? Lest you want to share the same fate. Little knight, keep your charge under control this time.” She gives everyone a smile as her helpers advance on Marcus. “Lou, Alana, back to your lessons.”

I gape at her. “Really? After all that?”

“It was hardly a matter of consequence.”

Being attacked by a hysteric prince is hardly a matter of consequence? I’m sure this is going to come back to bite us in the rear but I admit it was very satisfying.

Ah, that’s the end to this whole mess, isn’t it?

This time, for sure.