“The ways of life have been skewed since time immemorial,” Byrak flipped the sword in his hands, sharpening the tip with the whetstone trapped between his fingers. Sunlight glazed his tanned skin, and sweat trickled down his forehead. “You need to find a way that suits you, something that doesn’t confine you within the rules of morality and gives you enough room to wiggle out of troubles. If you want to become the epitome of kindness and compassion, there is little I can teach you. But if you want to survive in these vile lands of nobles and their hypocrisy, become shrewd.

“Father was a tyrant in the army and had little respect from his battalion, let alone the military council. But it was his men that came home more often than not. He would gladly sacrifice the lives of fifty men if a hundred could make it home. My ideals have been bred from his, so I am no different. Cruel when needed and not compassionate otherwise.”

Laura held the confines of the paddock, hearing her brother intently. Three black horses trotted, and a piebald pony was grazing fresh grass. The rustic architecture of the stables, assembled with stones was adorned with vines and ivy climbing to the tiled roof. The stablemaster carried some fodder within, the creaking door pulling Laura’s attention for a split second as the stablemaster walked inside.

“Do you get it?” Byrak asked, discarding the whetstone.

“I understand, brother,” Laura bobbed her head, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Her speech had been becoming more coherent for the past few days, and she could string together a few sentences without any problem. Her brother’s teaching had to do much with her progress, so she was very grateful to him. She focused her thoughts, and her mind showed exactly what she wanted to see.

[Underdeveloped brain: Cured 6%]

“Pick that sword again,” Byrak said, pointing at the wooden sword she had dropped earlier. “To become a sound battle mage, you must first become a sound warrior. Doesn’t matter if your hands are scraped or if your muscles have given up; as long as you will it, everything is possible.”

Laura wiped her calloused hands and picked up the sword. She wanted to return to the room badly and enjoy a hot bath. Did her brother love her? She didn’t know anymore. All she saw was a tyrant who was working her to the bones.

“Swing, parry, swing, pierce,” Byrak raised his sword and swung it straight down, then raised it to block an imaginable strike. Another swing followed, and he ended his fluid motion with a quick stab. “Repeat it a hundred times. We have to return to the manor before the sun reaches overhead.”

“Brother…”

“We are not leaving before you finish your training,” Byrak shrugged and jumped over the confines. “It’s only been a few days since we started training, and you are nowhere close to opening your conduits. Everyone who enters the Academy knows a few spells because they are born with the privileges, mostly with conduits open for mana circulation to the core. So, if you don’t want to be looked down, bite your tongue and reign in your frustration.”

Laura pouted, but she continued swinging her practice sword. Her hands ached, and her body was icky with all the sweat. The soreness of her muscles had died down considerably since the first day, and she could handle the sword more blithely than before.

Her leather shoes came off as she collapsed on her butt, and she noticed an unfamiliar face approaching her.

Laura threw the sword in haste and rushed to the edifice. “Brother!”

Byrak was beside her in record time; sword raised, eyes vigilant as he pushed her behind him. When he noticed the silhouette, his guard eased, and the frown was replaced with a beaming smile.

“Escheven,” Byrak walked forth, Laura tugging his tunic all the way, hiding behind his back. “Long time!”

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Laura peeked and tried to gauge the features of the newcomer. His dark hair was no different from theirs, but they were a shade lighter. Friendly eyes made her feel safer than her first impression, but nowhere enough to let go of her brother. Ostentatious green robe decked his colossal stature, and he was a head taller than Byrak.

“Byrak!” Escheven pulled him in a humongous hug, his gaze falling on the petite figure behind him. “You must be Lady Laura,” his eyes regarded her with a friendly look till he pulled back.

“No need to be scared of this beast, Laura,” Byrak held her hand and pulled her beside him. “He is a soft-hearted guy under all those wasteful muscles. And, perhaps, a useless one at that.”

He kneeled in front of Laura and grinned. “Hardworking little girl, I see. I hope you don’t follow his way of life. Sooner or later, he will become the king's traitor, dragging me to hell’s pit, the gallows seemingly heaven in comparison.”

“I am Laura…”

“Laura,” Byrak said sternly, and Laura bit her lips.

“I am secondborn of Valecrest nobility, firstborn lady, Laura Valecrest,” she tried to mimic the authoritative tone her brother had taught her, but it had little success. The raucous laughter of the big bear said more than what she needed to know.

“I wish my sister was as hard-working as this little lady. She is a spoilt brat with little regard for her brother or family,” Escheven shook his head, his lips pulled to a thin line. “Firstborn of Remnacle Nobility, Esheven Remnacle. It’s an honor to meet you, esteemed lady Laura.”

Laura moved closer to her brother and clutched his tunic.

“What brings you here?” Byrak asked, pulling Laura closer.

“The Kotch Pavillion house is holding an auction, targeting the envoys of Humeral Kingdom that have come to mediate the peace treaty. The firstborn heir, Jultan, and his entourage have explored most of the capital by now, so the auction house is planning to earn coins by selling some treasures of our kingdom. Can’t let them do that now, can we?”

“I thought the pavilion had stopped auctions a few years ago? Why resume now?” Byrak asked brows creased. He absently tapped Laura’s shoulder, lost in thought.

“The rumors haven’t stopped since Lord Yyk’s sanctioned adventurers returned alive from the undead tomb. Say they stumbled on exquisite artifacts of necromancers. No one knows if this is just another one of their business tactics to improve their crowd count in the midst of the auction. The point is that Jultan is a mage versed in necromancy, and he will be ready to pour all of his country’s wealth into getting these pesky things in his hands, given his craze for enchantments. If an unparalleled artifact exists in the auction house, why bother selling it?”

“I believe they are trying to empty the coppers of Humeral Kingdom,” Byrak said. Laura glanced at her brother’s forlorn expression and tightened her grip around his tunic.

“Exactly my thoughts. The peace treaty is just a front. Are we preparing for war?” Escheven asked, picking the wooden sword off the ground.

A black horse came close to Bryak and licked his cheek. “Easy there, Beani,” Byrak caressed the horse and continued, “Not necessarily, Escheven. It can be a scheme.”

Silence lingered in the paddocks, and Laura heard the faint sound of conversation from the side of the manor. Her hair fluttered in the gentle breeze, and she tried to keep them in place.

“The secondborn! It can’t be!”

“Indeed,” Byrak’s nose crinkled, and he sneezed. “Struggle for succession is not as transparent as it seems. If the secondborn prince ascends the throne, the peace treaty will be in jeopardy. I’ve heard he shares particular hatred for my father with many of his kingsmen. I don’t know how the secondborn ascending the throne would help Lord Yyk, but we need to stop their scheme.”

“You don’t say,” Escheven laughed. “I don’t have enough treasury to compete with a prince.”

Laura pulled her brother’s coat. “I have some money.”

Byrak glanced at her and laughed. “How much do you have, little lady?”

When Laura told them the amount, both men were stunned; their mouths hung open.

“How do you have so much money, Laura?!” Byrak asked, rubbing his temples. When the realization struck him, he shook his head. “Mother, it is.”

Laura nodded, moving behind her brother when Escheven reached to pat her head.

“She isn’t comfortable around people yet, Escheven,” Byrak gave him an apologetic glance. “Shall we hit the auction then? Nothing is better than foiling some intricate planning of high officials.”

“Except for a bottle of ale, my friend!” Escheven grinned and pulled Byrak in a bear hug. The latter coughed, and Laura couldn’t help the smile reaching her lips.