"Well, good morning." Ann said, narrowing her eyes at me from the comfort of her bed, her voice dry and half-laced with suspicion.
"Oh yeah, good morning. How are you on this fine morning?" I replied, flashing her my brightest grin as if I hadn't just barged into the room at the crack of dawn.
"Very confused." She groaned as she shifted in the bed, rolling onto her side and then onto her back, clearly trying to get comfortable again as if I hadn't interrupted her peace at all.
"Why?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. My eyes flicked over her absentmindedly, and I had to hold back a chuckle. 'Wouldn't have thought Marquis Anabald would wear that sort of PJs,' I thought, catching sight of her black lace pyjamas. It was the kind of thing I'd expect from someone trying to make a statement, not someone in her forties just waking up.
"Some crazy fox came in this morning, demanding that I spar with her." Ann explained flatly, glaring at me with the sharpness of a blade.
"I'm sure she didn't demand it. She asked for it," I corrected with a shrug, completely unbothered by her glare.
"Well, she was very aggressive about it," Ann sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose like she had been through this exact routine one too many times.
"Was she?" I said with mock innocence, tilting my head as if I couldn't possibly imagine who she might be talking about.
"Yes. The sun is barely up, Kitsuna, and now she wants to spar." She pointed at the curtains, the ones I had conveniently used as my window of entry earlier.
"Well, are you busy today? Or is there something making it difficult for you to spar with her?" I asked, folding my arms and leaning against the bedpost like I had every right to be here.
"No, I don't have work to do while I'm in the capital," she admitted with another sigh, shaking her head at me.
"So, you're free. Which means you can spar," I said brightly, smiling at her like I'd solved a puzzle.
"That's true, but I haven't even eaten this morning," Ann said, her sigh turning into a groan.
"You haven't? How late do you usually eat?" I asked, genuinely confused.
"How early do you eat?" She shot back, raising an eyebrow at me like I was the odd one here.
"When I wake up," I answered simply, her expression twisting into something between disbelief and amusement.
"You force your chefs to prepare food the second you wake up?" Ann asked, her tone accusatory, making me feel oddly guilty for a second.
"No. I keep prepared food in my storage so I can eat anytime. I also made a lot of it myself," I explained, making her stare at me like I'd grown another head.
"Is it raw?" she asked slowly.
"Maybe…" I admitted, glancing away.
"Monster meat?" she added knowingly.
"It's good for protein," I said defensively, still avoiding her gaze.
Ann chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, seeing what you are, that makes sense. Eating raw meat suits you."
"That's quite mean," I shot back, though I couldn't help laughing with her.
"It depends on how you take it," she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"So, are we going to spar or not?" I asked, cutting through the playful exchange to get back to the reason I was here.
"Kitsuna, I'm not even out of bed. How the hell am I supposed to spar like this?" Marquis Anabald groaned, her tone halfway between irritation and amusement.
"Mom, why are all the servants outside your room?" Oh—Kitsuna Draig, why are you here?" Katie's voice cut in as she walked through the door, her glare landing on me instantly.
"Well, I'm here to ask a favor from your mother," I explained, gesturing at Ann, who still hadn't moved from her sheets.
"While she's in bed?" Katie asked, raising an eyebrow, her tone dripping with judgement.
"Yeah," I replied casually.
"Isn't that a bit rude?" she pressed.
"I guess, but I'm on a tight schedule," I said simply, earning a synchronized sigh of annoyance from both mother and daughter.
"What do you mean by a tight schedule?" Ann asked.
"Well, the tournament is in six days, so yes, it's a tight schedule," I said with a grin, leaning back on the bedpost.
"What do you want to learn in our spars?" Ann asked, finally pushing herself up on her elbows, her eyes narrowing.
"Well, it's more like testing things out and practicing," I explained, forming a small dagger in my hand from crystals. I let it glint in the morning light for a second before letting it crumble away into shards.
"Can't your sister and her boyfriend help with something that simple?" Ann asked, looking at me strangely.
"No, they can't."
"I know they might be weaker than you, but that doesn't mean you can't practice against them," she pointed out.
"That's the problem. If I mess up, I might kill them because they're weaker than me," I said, my tone dropping into something more serious.
"So, what exactly do you want to practice?" Ann pressed, her expression hardening as she demanded a clear answer.
"Umm…" I hesitated, scratching my cheek.
"Just say it. It's not like it can be that big of a secret."
"Well, it's almost on the same level as me," I admitted reluctantly.
"It is?"
"Yes."
"Can you at least give an example?"
"I just did, though?" I said, frowning.
"Yeah, well, I didn't understand that at all." Ann shook her head, unimpressed.
"Well, you know I create weapons, right?" I leaned closer, lowering my voice so the servants outside couldn't hear. Katie still could, of course, and her glare didn't waver.
"Yes, with your ice magic."
"Well, I asked a Smith King for some lessons, and he taught me a way to make a certain weapon to kill certain beings in this world. Forceful beings," I explained carefully.
Ann's eyes widened, almost popping out of her head. "You can't be serious."
"I am."
Her disbelief melted away into sharp resolve. "I'll be ready in five," she announced, vanishing from her bed in a blur of movement.
"Awesome. I'll wait outside then," I said, even though she was already gone.
"Huh, what were you two talking about?" Katie asked, her voice uncertain for the first time.
"Your mother will tell you later, probably," I said with a shrug as I walked out of the room, Katie trailing behind me.
"Why can't you?" she pressed.
"Because I don't want to. And if you knew, you'd probably call the tournament useless," I said, glancing over my shoulder with a smirk.
"Why would I do that?" Katie snapped, her voice sharp.
"Because I have a cheat, hehe," I said, laughing.
"So? Everyone in the country can join the tournament," Katie countered, her glare unshaken.
"Yes, but the number of people who can use this cheat can be counted on two hands," I said, flashing her a massive grin.
"Seriously?"
"Well, maybe a bit more, but they're too old to join anyway," I said thoughtfully.
"I still don't understand why I can't know the reason you want to spar with my mother."
"You can know, but I'd rather leave it to her to tell you," I said firmly.
"Sigh, fine," Katie muttered, finally relenting.
"So, how's it been these days?" I asked, softening my tone as I remembered her struggles.
"After Mom came back, it's been a lot better," she admitted, her smile genuine.
"I'd think so. You might be an heiress, but you're still a kid, and you haven't even gone to the academy yet," I said, shrugging. I didn't really know what they taught there, but I knew Grandma Amaris was the principal.
"The academy isn't for learning to run a territory. It's for making connections with the lower nobility," Katie explained, answering half my unspoken thoughts.
"Really? That's the reason?" I scoffed.
"Yes. I can see how you wouldn't care, because you're… well, you," Katie said with a laugh.
"Hey, what do you mean by that?"
"We need the lower nobility to help run territories," she said, changing the subject slightly.
"Sigh. I won't be head of house, so it doesn't matter. I won't be working with them in Black Ops either," I said, waving it off.
"On the contrary, most Black Ops come from those northern nobles," Katie said with a grin.
"I didn't know that," I admitted.
"You might want to care more, especially if you want to take over Black Ops one day," Marquis Anabald said as she stepped out, fully dressed and ready.
"Why would I? Amari will run the house and Black Ops, not me," I said, tilting my head.
"Dean may be head of house, but Stacy has the real power when it comes to Black Ops," Ann said, grinning.
"Isn't Dean the leader?" I asked, confused.
"Yes, but orders from him get double-checked with Stacy. Always."
"Huh. I guess that makes sense. But it's still Amari's job, not mine."
"You wouldn't be taking it away—you'd be helping her. Running a territory isn't straightforward," Ann said, her grin widening.
"What about Zagan?" I asked, testing her.
Ann's grin disappeared. "Really? You want to leave the strongest attack force to someone who rushes everything and barely thinks?"
"...Sigh. I guess," I admitted reluctantly.
"Anyway, that's not important. Follow me. Let's go to the field."
"The field?"
"Yeah. It's where Stacy and I spar."
"Alright."
"Sorry, daughter. You'll have to leave us today. I'll explain everything tonight," Ann told Katie, her tone leaving no room for argument.
[5 min later]
"Alright, we're here. Now show me your progress," Ann said, standing across from me on the field, her stance sharp and ready.
"Okay, just one thing—don't panic when it blows up. It's not enough to kill me, anyway."
"What?"
"You'll see. Just don't run toward me when it explodes, alright?" I said firmly.
"Alright, I won't."
"I hope so," I muttered, gathering mana and shaping it into the beginnings of an ice demigod weapon.
The energy surged violently, unstable.
"Shit," I hissed, raising a wall of ice between my arm and face.
Boom!!
"Kitsuna!" Ann shouted, her voice breaking through the smoke and ringing in my ears.
"I'm fine, don't worry," I coughed, waving the smoke away. My stomach dropped when I glanced down—my arm and half my chest were gone. But my face and neck were intact thanks to the shield I'd formed at the last second.
"Huh. It did less damage than before," I muttered, forcing my regeneration into overdrive. Flesh knit together, bone reformed, skin closed. Within moments, I flexed my hand like nothing had happened.
"Is this really the least damage one of those explosions can cause?" Ann asked, worry etched across her face.
"Yeah. It'll explode, but I won't die," I said, shrugging like it was no big deal.
Ann pressed her hand against her forehead. "Now I understand why Stacy always complained about you."
"Everyone has their own fighting style," I said, grinning.
"Yes, but yours is suicidal."
"Hey, I'm not that reckless in real fights," I lied smoothly.
Ann narrowed her eyes. "I've seen you take gambles firsthand."
"Yes," I admitted, looking away.
"Sigh… Alright. Try again. I'll see if I can spot mistakes. Though, I doubt I'll find any," Ann said, her voice filled with reluctant resignation.
"Sorry," I murmured, before beginning the process again.