Ronan's voice, deep and solemn, carried across the training hall like the toll of a great bell. "Let both sides step forward. The duel shall begin."
The murmurs of the nobles hushed at once, the air heavy with anticipation as the clash everyone had come to witness is about to unfold. From one side, Ivan stepped forward, his grip firm on the dragonbone sword.
Even though he looked like a boy who isn't quite old enough to be an adult yet, he didn't look nervous, and the straightness of his back made it look like he was carrying not only his own pride but also the pride of his sorceress' mother and his mothers' shadow behind him.
He steps closer to the center of the training stage, looking confident. Every step echoed off the smooth stones, and the hall seemed to get cooler with each step, as if the sword were drawing heat from the air.
