The atmosphere in the grand hall had changed. Aric's declaration draped between the nobles like a blade drawn.
Power.
He had spoken the one truth that ruled this kingdom. And by the way Duke Vaelis gripped his goblet a tad more tightly, Aric knew he knew the threat.
Across the table, Lady Isadora Ravencourt — the Duke's most trusted advisor — smiled over the rim of her wine glass. A smile of amusement. Or perhaps… interest.
Aric smirked inwardly. Good.
Now, the real game began.
Duke Vaelis reclined in his gilded chair, eyes appraising. He was not a man who tolerated variables. And Aric was who we knew the least about in this room.
"You speak boldly for one who has no land, no title," mused the Duke, swirling his wine. "Tell me, what is it that you offer for this power that you seek?"
Without missing a beat, Aric met his gaze. "Loyalty."
A murmur rippled through the gathered nobles. Some laughed, some leaned in, curious.
The Duke raised a brow. "Loyalty? Of a man I know nothing about?"
Aric smirked. "From a man who saved your daughter's life."
The tension in the hall implicitly managed. It was a direct challenge. A reminder that the Duke owed him
For the first time this year, the Duke's carefully manicured mask slipped — just a little. Annoyance.
Aric had pushed him. And he would stretch him further.
The Duke put down his goblet with a soft clink.
"You must test your loyalty," he said smoothly. "And in this kingdom, power is not granted. It is proven."
Inglorious smirk crept over Aric's mouth. Here it comes.
It was the armored man who stood by the entrance to the Duke, a knight covered in steel who oozed silent wrath.
"This is Sir Reynard Valen, one of my best warriors," the Duke said. "If you want to prove yourself, you will combat with him."
The audience murmured in excitement. A duel. A test to find out whether Aric was really dangerous… or merely another fool who followed after ambition.
Aric stood slowly, circling his shoulders.
"Rules?" he asked, tone lazy.
"First to yield" was the Duke's answer. Then after a beat he added, "Or first to die."
Selene gasped beside him. The Duke was providing him an out. If he retreated now, he would lose face — but he would live to fight another day.
But that was never an option.
Aric smirked. "Then let's begin."
Television crews rushed to clear and reconfigure a grand hall. The long banquet tables had been pushed to the side, leaving an open expanse in the center.
Sir Reynard stepped forward. He cast off his cloak, drew his sword, a gleaming greatsword almost as tall as a man. The mass of it alone could split a lesser foe in twain.
Aric, however, had moved forward unarmed.
Gasps spread across the room.
"Where is your weapon, outsider?" Sir Reynard sneered.
Aric smiled. He didn't need one.
The knight lunged first, moving very quickly for a person in armor.
Aric sidestepped, moving just enough to have the massive blade whistle by him. Effortless. Precise.
Sir Reynard had barely recovered when Aric took his place.
A fist smashed into the knight's armored chest.
The blow sent him sliding back, his boots scraping the polished floor. A hushed silence fell over the court.
Aric rolled his neck lazily. He wasn't even going all out.
Sir Reynard scowled and attacked again, swinging with brutal precision. The steel blade whirled as it sliced through the air — but it never struck home.
Aric moved too fast.
He evaded, his hand moving out—seizing the knight's wrist mid-swing.
Aric caught the sword in mid swing with one hand, and the entire hall gasped.
A flash of panic crossed Sir Reynard's face.
Aric smirked. Now, it was his turn.
In a sudden twist he snatched the greatsword from Reynard's hand, twirling it like a toy before hammering his knee into the knight's belly.
CRACK.
Sir Reynard fell to the ground, choking, sounding for breath. Broken ribs. A warrior's humiliation.
And Aric hadn't even broken a sweat.
The silence was deafening.
Aric let the greatsword fall to clank the ground as he stepped over the fallen knight. He addressed that to the Duke.
"There is no yielding in real battles," he said. "I just made sure he was staying down."
The Duke's face didn't change, yet the tension in his shoulders informed Aric of everything.
He had won.
And Lady Isadora?
She was smiling.