Chapter 32: A Sister's Challenge
The morning sun barely crested the horizon, its golden light filtering through the towering windows of the Everhart estate. Inside the grand training hall, the air was thick with tension as two figures stood opposite each other, swords in hand.
Leonhardt Valerian Everhart and Celeste Everhart.
His younger sister, Celeste Everhart, was only eight years old but had already begun her training in swordsmanship and magic. Unlike most noble daughters who focused on etiquette and politics, Celeste had inherited the indomitable spirit of their family. Her small hands gripped the hilt of a wooden training sword tightly, her pale golden hair tied back to keep it from falling into her determined blue eyes.
Leonhardt, standing tall and composed, observed her with his usual cold indifference. He hadn't planned to train with his younger sister today, but Celeste had been persistent.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice calm but slightly edged with warning.
Celeste narrowed her eyes. "Of course! You always train alone or with Father, but never with me. I want to see how much stronger I've gotten!"
Leonhardt said nothing. He could already tell how this would end.
Their father, Grand Duke Aldric Everhart, stood to the side, watching with a neutral expression. Though he had initially dismissed Celeste's request to spar against her brother, he had eventually agreed. He knew that she would never stop pestering him otherwise.
The other knights, gathered near the edges of the training hall, exchanged amused glances.
"This will be interesting," one of them whispered.
"She's talented, but she's challenging the young lord? That's practically suicide."
Leonhardt sighed softly. He had no interest in wasting his time, but if Celeste needed a reality check, he would give her one.
The Duel Begins
A knight stepped forward, raising his hand. "On my mark… Begin!"
Celeste rushed forward with impressive speed, her wooden sword slicing through the air. She had good footwork—better than most boys her age—but to Leonhardt, she was still too slow.
Step.
Pivot.
Leonhardt disappeared from her sight, moving just before her strike could land. Celeste's eyes widened in surprise as her blade cut through empty air.
Before she could react, a light tap landed against her back—his sword barely touching her, but enough to signify a hit.
"…You're already dead," Leonhardt stated flatly.
The watching knights chuckled softly, but Celeste gritted her teeth. She spun around, determination burning in her blue eyes. "That was just the first move! Again!"
Leonhardt sighed but adjusted his stance. She wouldn't give up so easily.
Celeste tried different attacks this time—thrusting, slashing, even attempting a feint. But each time, Leonhardt evaded her effortlessly, never needing more than a step or two.
And each time, his sword landed lightly on her shoulder, wrist, or back, signaling yet another defeat.
A Brother's Mercy
After nearly twenty attempts, Celeste was breathing hard, sweat dripping down her forehead. But her expression remained fierce.
Leonhardt finally spoke. "Give up."
"No!" she shouted, tightening her grip. "I won't stop until I land a hit on you!"
Leonhardt's expression remained unreadable, but deep inside, he felt a twinge of something… familiar.
This determination—this refusal to acknowledge defeat—reminded him of himself.
For the first time, instead of merely dodging, Leonhardt raised his own sword.
Celeste saw the shift in his stance and felt a chill run down her spine.
A heartbeat later—
Leonhardt moved.
A blur. A flash of steel. A storm of overwhelming speed.
Celeste barely had time to lift her weapon before she felt her knees buckle under the sheer pressure of his presence.
Thud!
Before she even realized what had happened, her wooden sword flew out of her hands, clattering across the hall.
A dull pain bloomed in her wrist where he had struck—not enough to injure her, but enough to show the sheer difference in their strength.
Leonhardt stood above her, his wooden sword resting lightly against her throat. A clear and undeniable victory.
"…You're not ready," he stated coldly. "Come back when you are."
Celeste looked up at him, biting her lip hard. She wanted to be angry, to protest—but she knew. She had lost. Completely.
But as she watched her brother turn away, she clenched her fists.
One day, she swore—one day, she would stand beside him as an equal.
A Noble's Gossip
Later that evening, the Everhart household received unexpected guests.
Duke Reinhardt of House Belmont, one of the major noble houses in the empire, had arrived with his wife and his eldest daughter, Lady Evelyne Belmont.
The Belmonts were known for their deep political ties within the imperial court. Lady Evelyne, a girl of twelve, was rumored to be among the most promising young noblewomen in high society—charming, intelligent, and incredibly ambitious.
The moment she stepped into the Everhart estate, her sharp green eyes landed on Leonhardt.
She had seen him only once before, at a political gathering two years ago, but even then, she had recognized his unparalleled presence.
Now, standing before him once again, she could not help but be captivated.
Her heart raced.
There was something about him—something undeniably powerful.
Leonhardt barely spared her a glance, uninterested. But Duke Reinhardt, noticing his daughter's reaction, smiled.
"I hear that Young Lord Everhart's birthday ball was a magnificent event," he said, his voice smooth with politeness. "It is a shame that Evelyne could not attend."
Leonhardt did not respond. He found these conversations a waste of time.
Lady Evelyne, however, stepped forward.
"Young Lord Everhart," she said sweetly, "it is an honor to finally meet you again."
Leonhardt turned his fiery gaze toward her. He immediately recognized her intentions.
Evelyne smiled gently, her cheeks slightly flushed. "I have heard much about you. Your strength, your intelligence… It seems you are already the most exceptional heir of our generation."
Leonhardt remained silent.
Duke Reinhardt cleared his throat, giving his daughter an encouraging nod. It was obvious what he wanted.
A potential political engagement.
A marriage between Everhart and Belmont would strengthen their influence within the empire. And from the way Evelyne looked at Leonhardt, it was clear that she had her own interests as well.
But Leonhardt?
He could not care less.
"Is there something you want?" he finally asked, his tone as cold as ever.
Lady Evelyne blinked, surprised by his bluntness. "I only wished to express my admiration for you, my lord."
Leonhardt gave her a blank stare before turning away. "Not interested."
The room fell into awkward silence.
Evelyne's face flushed with embarrassment, but she quickly masked it with a forced smile. She was not used to rejection—especially not so outright.
Duke Reinhardt's expression darkened slightly, but he remained composed.
The message was clear—Leonhardt Valerian Everhart had no interest in courtship, nor in their political games.
As the Belmonts left later that evening, Evelyne clenched her hands.
Leonhardt had humiliated her.
But instead of anger, she felt something else entirely.
I'll make you look at me someday, Leonhardt Everhart…
Whether he liked it or not.