Kaelen lowered his hand, amusement playing across his features as he smiled faintly at Soren.
The duel hung suspended between them, over but undeclared. Both could have killed. Neither did. The silence in the courtyard pressed down like a physical weight, heavy enough to crush lungs.
Lord Callen's voice cut through it, sharper than any blade.
"That will do."
The words fell with the finality of an executioner's ax, severing the moment clean from its tension. Soren felt the heat from his blistered knuckles pulse in time with his heartbeat as he lowered his sword, the metal still warm against his palm.
The whispers started immediately, rippling through the gathered recruits like wind through dry grass.
"Lucky peasant," someone hissed from the back row.
"Did you see how he—"
"—impossible, he must have cheated—"
"—never seen anyone move like that against a mage—"
