The days since their return from the Imperial Palace had settled into the demanding routine of the training camp. The high drama of their mission and the luxury of the imperial palace were now just a privileged memory, pushed back by the daily task of skill refinement.
The air between Riven and Vaelorian was still charged, but now with a joyful and familiar warmth. Their relationship has progressed easily and happily; they were together... well, not in public but in a discreet but deeply committed way, and the comfort of that connection permeated Riven's world.
For the rest of the camp, however, things settled into a kind of 'new normal.' For Riven, the instructors seemed to be constantly testing everything but his gift of Strength. No thanks to Vaelorian's instructions. The older boy is hell-bent on pushing all his endurance buttond.
Riven had started his day early with a mandatory tactical simulation class. His gift of strength was set aside as he was forced to analyze and counter an opponent's strategy—a skill often invaluable in real conflict, but the mental strain was too exhausting for him at the moment.
"Focus, Riven. It's just a puzzle," he muttered to himself, leaning over the holographic map, tracing lines of attack and defense with his finger. "If the red team commits the flank, the blue team must exploit the center weakness. Simple. Why is everyone else overthinking it?"
The mental gymnastics took their toll, but he was relieved when he was finally allowed to lift some weights in the yard. He worked through a set of inhumanly heavy free weights, his body finding its familiar rhythm. He didn't have to use his brain for this one; instead, he allowed his thoughts and the sweat to run wild, letting his raw Strength be his guide.
Afterward, he met Mira Lune and Willow for their conditioning session on the fields. Willow, whose gift was Speed, seemed less like a person running and more like a controlled blur following the contours of the track. Mira Lune, whose gift was Fire, was working on channeling her energy into controlled, non-destructive heat.
"I hate this part," Mira Lune complained, panting loudly as she tried to keep her hands cool while jogging beside Riven. "My gift is literally the opposite of endurance. If I get too hot, I start spontaneously generating steam."
Willow stopped instantly, appearing beside them without warning, looking completely fresh. "I could lend you some momentum, Mira. It might counteract the heat, or it might make you explode. Worth the risk?"
"You guys are being ridiculous," Riven said, pushing himself harder. "Just focus. We're here to perfect our gifts, not complain about the elements working against us."
At the mid-morning break, Riven found Anya near the herbology sheds. Her gift was Nature-related, and she often looked the calmest of the bunch when surrounded by nature.
"Hey," Riven greeted, leaning against a stack of towels.
Anya looked up from a delicate potted orchid she was tending.
"Hey. You done?" She asked and Riven nodded.
"Thanks to someone, I trained for an extra hour." he said grumpily making Anya giggle.
"Speaking of someone, did you see Vaelorian this morning? He seemed...extra formal during the briefing. I thought you guys were friends now?"
"He's the Prince, Anya. He's always formal, it's like...one of his default settings or something." Riven dismissed, though he knew she was right. The guy is terrified of being alone with him in public for more than three minutes, because he thinks Riven want to tear his clothes off. It's a tragedy really, Riven thought with a devilish smirk.
Anya looked at him, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "Yeah, but he usually manages to give you that tiny, secret nod when he thinks nobody is watching, but today, he looked like he was afraid you'd explode if he made eye contact. You haven't played another prank on him, have you?"
"Worse," Riven mumbled, instantly thinking of their last not-so quickie conversation in Vaelorian's private quarters. "I think I ruined his idea of military discipline."
"Military discipline? What's that?" Anya asked, looking genuinely confused.
Vaelorian had given Riven a time-out. Some time to to cool off. Something they often did to soldiers when they're in that wrong, but Riven had turned it into a seduction trap that led to sex. Yeah, there's no way in hell he's going to tell her what that means. Just as Riven was about to deflect the question, a voice boomed across the courtyard.
"Lord Riven! A moment of your time, if you please!"
Barron marched toward them, carrying a very official-looking, very empty clipboard. The swagger he picked up at the palace had intensified, fueled by his new title. He was supposed to be practicing with his fellow Shape-shifters, but here he was, comically parading his new formal persona.
"Barron, stop calling me that, please," Riven groaned, even though he found his best friend's ridiculous formality endearing.
"Nonsense. It is a title bestowed by Imperial Decree, and as a fellow Lord, I must observe proper protocol," Barron insisted, adjusting his collar. "I was just briefing the logistics officer on the improved storage techniques I observed in the imperial palace. Did you know their linen inventory is sorted by thread count? Fascinating."
Mira Lune and Willow caught up with them. Mira Lune pulled her hair back into a sweat-dampened braid.
"Barron, you look like a poodle in a parade. You missed two training sessions reviewing your own laundry. Is that how Lords behave?"
"Indeed," Barron sniffed, unfazed. "We manage the management. Besides, Sir Eryndor requires a Lord to assist with his tactical planning—not a glorified runner."
"He requires a Lord who is still alive, Barron. Try to maintain basic fitness," Anya advised dryly.
"Riven, please do something about him," Willow groaned in annoyance, making Riven raise his hands in surrender.
And just like that, their banter continued back and forth until the group started walking toward the mess hall, Riven feeling relaxed for the first time all day. He had his friends and Vaelorian, he was back where he belonged.
They were crossing the main courtyard toward the mess hall when they saw them. Kaelen and his two cronies, leaning against the main flagpole, looking bored and conspicuously unsupervised.
Riven tensed instinctively, but the familiar warmth of contentment kept his reaction muted. He met Kaelen's gaze, completely unmoved by the resentment simmering there. Kaelen had been punished months ago for the broken arm incident, and now he mostly settled for cheap, predictable insults.
Kaelen pushed himself off the pole, his eyes locking onto Riven. He managed a weak, half-smirk. Barron immediately stepped forward, positioning himself slightly in front of Riven, instinctively protecting his friend.
"Hey, losers!" Kaelen called out to them.
"Good to see you too, Kaelen," Barron said, his voice clipped and unnaturally formal. "We trust your recent mandatory reflection period was… fruitful."
"Look at this," Kaelen drawled, nodding toward Riven and Barron. "The royal petting zoo is back. We now have two Lords, a gardener, a sprinter and a sparkler. The whole circus!" He glanced at Barron. "Thought you'd be too important for the training fields after your new position, Barron."
Barron scoffed dramatically. "I think you're confused about something. I am here by choice, because I know that I have a lot to learn from our amazing instructors, and not because I have nowhere else to be. Although, I doubt you even know the difference, Kaelen."
Kaelen ignored Barron's jab, his eyes boring into Riven. "You're letting others fight for you now?" Kaelen drawled. "Back to running errands for Vaelorian, Riven? Thought things would change for you after your little trip to the palace."
It was a cheap shot at mockery by a pompous teenager—Riven knew that. Which is why he wouldn't let it affect him. Kaelen was being Kaelen, just not intensely Kaelen.
Riven met his gaze, completely unmoved. He felt a sense of bored pity, not anger. "My trip to the imperial palace was nice. Anything is better than spending some time confined to the cold room at this point, right, Kaelen? How's the disciplinary paperwork going? Need any help?"
Kaelen's face flushed, his bruised ego showing. "Shut up, loser. Just shut up..."
"Or what?" Riven challenged, stepping out from behind Barron. "You'll try for the other arm this time? Honestly, Kaelen, you're just so predictable. You should try focusing on your actual gift instead of your reputation. You might actually pass your next assessment and find something worth directing all this anger to. Do you want to come back to this place again next year?"
Kaelen's cronies shifted uncomfortably, clearly not wanting another meeting with the camp security.
"Yeah, well, at least I don't need Vaelorian to hold my hand when I get a boo-boo," Kaelen muttered, the lowest-hanging fruit of the insult tree.
Anya had had enough. She stepped forward, her stance widening slightly, and Riven could see the subtle shift in the air—the vibrant green energy of the ground around them responding to her Nature gift. Her voice was sharp and clear.
"That's enough, Kaelen. Move along. Unless you want the Commander to review your behavior again."
Kaelen sneered one last time, glanced quickly toward the instructors' watchtower, and then, to Riven's satisfaction, he backed down. He shoved his hands into his pockets and slunk away with his minions trailing behind him.
Barron puffed himself up. "Excellent tactical maneuvering, Anya! The direct authority appeal was key."
"No, Barron, the key was he's terrified of getting kicked out of camp," Riven corrected, watching Kaelen disappear. He felt a moment of weary resignation. "It never really goes away, does it? The rivalry. The petty attempts at showing who's the boss. It's been months for God's sake, why won't he let it go?"
Mira Lune patted Riven's shoulder gently. "You handled that well. No escalation. High marks for conflict resolution."
"Easy when the guy is already defeated," Riven sighed. "Come on. I need real food. Let's talk about Barron's new obsession with calling me Lord Riven on the way."
As they walked toward the mess hall, their combined energy and chatter restored the balance, pushing the tension of the encounter aside. Riven knew the rivalry would simmer, but right now, his focus was on his friends, his training, and the Prince who was currently avoiding him in the most elaborate, dramatic way possible.