I had never spoken to the Prince ever since he’d signed on with the Uprising. I mean, why would I? As far as anyone was supposed to know, I was just Grey’s odd apprentice that he had picked up during his captivity.

Certainly not a near-mythical Precursor.

Heavens no.

It was odd to see him down here in the bowels of the Citadel. My understanding was that the kid was really busy these days, making reassurances to the nobles involved in the Uprising and trying to reach out to others in the Kingdom. Whenever I had seen him, he’d always been surrounded by dignitaries or nobs trying to suck up to His Highness.

However, now it was just him and his guard.

Odd.

Or…perhaps that was the point…

Hmm.

I fixed a smile on my face, bowing slightly at the waist to the Prince. “Of course, your Highness. How can I help you?”

Bizarrely, the Prince’s own smile faded slightly, before fixing itself. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, Mr…?”

My eyes and middle ring tracked the fully armor-clad knight, as he took a position next to the door. Meanwhile, my mouth and outer ring were responding to the Prince. “Hart, your Highness. Nathaniel Eugene,” I mentally winced. “Hart. Most simply call me Nathan.”

“Nathan, then,” The Prince nodded at me easily, wandering further into the room over to the rack containing training weapons. He let his hand drift over the hilts of the swords there, as he spoke to me. “I’m given to understand that you and the Headmaster met while enslaved by the Savoy?”

Something about the Prince’s demeanor was striking me as odd, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what. Still, I answered his question. “That’s correct, your Highness. I was captured by a Savoy-aligned Elven hunting party and sold to Magnus of House Savoy. Luckily, I was remanded to the custody of Azarus, formerly of House Savoy, where I made the acquaintance of my mentor.”

“Oh, is that so?” The Prince said idly, picking out a training rapier from the rack. He swung it around a few times before clucking his tongue and putting it back. He resumed his exploration of the rack. “However did these Elves capture you? I’m given to understand that they’ve been driven deeper into the Barren Forest.”

“I wasn’t aware.” I smiled slightly to myself. “How very…unfortunate for them.” I made sure that my tone of voice was as obviously insincere as possible.

I may have no problems with Elves in general since meeting the refugees at Sancthaven, but fuck those guys in particular. I hadn’t forgotten about the group that had captured me, all those months ago.

They were still on my list. Such as it was.

I was just busy right now.

To my surprise, the Prince snorted at my words but nodded nonetheless. “Indeed.” Abruptly, the Prince drew a training longsword from the rack of weapons and turned to face me. “Initially, Mr. Hart, I was coming down here for some weapons practice of my own. Would you perhaps be up to a bout with me? Purely for training purposes, of course.”

My smile faded slightly. I flicked my gaze over at the knight glowering at me from the door. He intensified his evil gaze when he saw me looking. Glancing back at the Prince, I cleared my throat. “I came down here myself to test a pair of new weapons, your Highness. However, if you desire a practice match, I will of course oblige you. I’ll…just need to pick out some suitable weapons of my own.”

The Prince stopped me from approaching the weapon rack with a raised hand. “No need,” He said calmly. “You may use your new weapons, Mr. Hart.”

I lost my smile altogether. “Your Highness, they’re quite heavily enchanted and constructed from higher-grade materials than that.” I nodded at the longsword held loosely at this side. “I somewhat doubt your blade would withstand many blows from my new daggers.”

The Prince met my eyes. “You will use your new weapons.”

That very obviously wasn’t a request.

It was a command.

Something was going on here.

Although I kept my suspicion off of my face using my middle ring, my core ring was screaming at me that this was a trap of some kind. I couldn’t exactly refuse a direct command from who should be my direct sovereign however, no matter that I had never sworn any oaths to him.

I nodded curtly at the Prince. “By your command,” I said, wandering over to the center of the room and away from my practice dummy. I assessed the space we’d be fighting in with a quick glance. Tight-fitted, rough wooden floorboards. Good grip, to my eyes. I raised them to meet the Prince’s when I was done. “What are the rules?”

“A short match, I believe,” The Prince said evenly, walking to stand maybe five arm lengths away from me. “No Skills, no Spells or Arts. First blood for yourself, and decisive victory for me. I think that’ll do just fine. Wouldn’t you agree, Augustine?”

The knight, apparently going by the name ‘Augustine’, grunted from his position near the wall. “As you say, your Highness.”

“Now,” The Prince said, slowly bringing his training sword into a ready position. “Ready yourself, Mr. Hart. We begin on three. Augustine, if you would?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I took a deep breath before nodding. I unsheathed my new Oninite blades, and held them in the stance I’d been intending to practice in.

One up, one down.

I met the Prince’s eyes across the small distance between us, as Augustine closed in on our position. The knight crossed his arms. “One,” He said heavily. “Two.”

I saw the Prince smile slightly at me.

“Three.”

The Prince exploded in a lunge directed at me, his sword parallel with the ground in a stab.

My eyes widened slightly.

Fast.

Far faster than I’d been expecting.

But not faster than my instincts.

My mind sharpened, adrenaline being pumped through my body by my core ring, while my middle ring calmed my nerves. Of late, I’d been thinking of this as my battle trance. I could barely put into words just how easier I’d been finding combat using this state.

And it was effective, too.

In the split second before his training sword could impact my chest, I calmly angled my right dagger and deflected the blow up and to my right. At the same time, I swiped at his open belly with speed born from my heightened Dexterity, stepping forward as I did so.

I was mildly surprised when the Prince used the momentum from his parried blade to pirouette, dodging my blow. At the tail end of his spin, he skipped to the side and tried to slash at my left side. No doubt he thought it was my weaker one.

He would have been right, about a week ago.

I ducked, sweeping out at his legs with my right one as I did so. The Prince seemed to have expected that, however. He hopped over my incoming leg, and angled his blade down in an overhead chop with his full weight behind it.

Hmm. I probably couldn’t block that.

I kicked off the ground with my free leg, flipping backward and landing briefly on one hand before pushing off again. This time, spinning into the air again.

But not backwards.

Forwards.

At the apex of my jump, I angled my two daggers downward like the fangs of a serpent and plunged them straight down at the Prince.

I saw his eyes narrow up at me, as he turned his body sideways.

With his left hand on his sword, he swept it at my right dagger, knocking it off course. For my left, he reached out and grabbed my forearm with his right hand halting it in place. We stood there for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes, as I felt the kiss of his training sword touch my throat.

The Prince had used the brief moment I’d been unguarded from his parry to snake his blade up.

Ah.

It appears I lost the bout.

The Prince didn’t blink as he held my gaze. “It appears that I’ve won, Mr. Hart.”

I inclined my head ever so slightly in acknowledgment. “You have. But in a real battle, you would be dead, your Highness.”

His eyes narrowed. “How so? I have you dead to rights, Mr. Hart. If this were a live blade, I could slit your throat at a moment's notice.”

I let a small smile drift onto my face. “Because you asked me to use my new weapons, Prince Oskar. Observe.” Flipping the dagger that was still pointed down at his head away from him, I depressed the activation rune.

Instantly, the dagger extended into its spear form, almost totally horizontal above our heads. The blackened metal of my extendable spear briefly glimmered blue in the torchlight of the practice room.

Prince Oskar’s eyes widened slightly in shock, his mouth parting. “How…?”

“As well, you should look down,” I continued, allowing my battle trance to start thawing. The Prince's eyes drifted downwards at my comment.

To see that the blade he had parried was pointed upwards at his belly.

“And…that possesses the same capability?” The Prince said slowly.

“It does,” I confirmed.

You know, it was actually starting to get a bit awkward the way we were just standing here, still locked in this stance. Why hadn’t he let go of me yet?

“I see,” The Prince said, breaking eye contact with me finally. I saw him look over my shoulder and give a brief nod.

I instantly tensed, activating Sylvan Vigor at full strength. I’d been suspicious of the Prince’s motives for a bit now, and that move had been suspicious enough that I was willing to suffer the faux pas if I was overreacting. I tried to spring away from the Prince in order to escape.

But, my skill didn’t save me.

I felt powerful metal-clad hands clamp down on my arms and wrench them behind my back. I tried to keep my hand on my daggers, but I grit my teeth as strong fingers twisted them away from me, to clatter onto the floor of the practice hall. Whoever had a grip on me, they were stronger than my Skill enhanced strength. Forcibly, I was shoved onto my knees in front of the Prince, hands held behind me.

Fuck.

I’d forgotten the knight during the fight.

“Thank you, Augustine,” I heard the Prince say. Moments later, I felt his practice sword under my chin again, this time raising my head to meet the Prince's eyes once again.

He wasn’t even pretending to be friendly anymore. His eyes had gone cold.

“Now, ‘Nathaniel Eugene Hart’,” The Prince said menacingly. “I have some questions for you.”

I may have released my battle trance already, but I slammed it back into place. I had the feeling I was going to need the calm. “About what, your Highness? I must say this is highly irregular. If you had questions for me, you didn’t have to through this entire…apparent farce of a practice match.”

I felt my arms twist slightly behind me, sending a flare of pain radiating up them. I was able to bare it just fine in this state, however. I didn’t even blink at the agony, much less cry out. “Speak when spoken to, cur,” I heard Augustine behind me growl.

The Prince didn’t respond to my question. “Several months ago, Herztalian agents in the Rhoscaran court reported a dramatic confrontation, where a Human man spoke of a scenario similar to the one that you described. In this report, it is said that the man described himself as a disgraced Knight of the Kingdom, having fled the fighting only to be captured and nearly enslaved by elves. However, one Azarus of House Savoy was said to have saved this man, causing him to swear his life to his savior. I find it curious to note that the man gave his name as ‘Nathan Hart’.”

I blinked slowly at the Prince's diatribe, while I felt my middle ring start howling in laughter.

That was what this was about? My little performance in Elysael’s court?

I let a small, amused smile cross my lips, relaxing slightly. “If you’re asking if I am that man, I can confirm it. Azarus and I were indeed in Rhoscara at that time, petitioning Prince Elysael. Before your man twists my arms once more, may I ask what the problem is?”

I felt Augustine behind me growl, and his grip on my arms grow tighter. However, he was stopped from trying to hurt me again by the Prince’s raised palm. “Then you do not deny impersonating a Herztalian Knight? If you were unaware, that is a crime, Mr. Hart. However, that is the least of my concerns. You see, from where I stand, you appear to be a suspicious individual. I find it somewhat convenient that a Savoy-aligned individual, with aid from an unfavored son of House Savoy, saw to the death of their Heir. Months later, said person appears in the midst of the Herztalian Civil War with said Savoy scion, conveniently poised to influence key members of it. The coincidences are too strong. While you are undoubtedly guilty of impersonating a Knight, I place a far graver crime at your feet.”

“You see, ‘Mr. Hart’, I am accusing you of being a spy.”