I won the duel.
It didn't feel like a victory though.
The courtyard had erupted when Varen obviously yielded though he made it seem as if he had stepped out of bounds.
I can remember the voices roaring my name but the sound had now blurred into a distant hum.
Even as I bowed and walked away, I could still see the moment in my mind when he had stepped back, sword lowered, calm and smiling. I had wanted a decisive win, not an acknowledgment of potential.
But I knew better than to argue with someone like Varen. He didn't yield out of mercy; he yielded out of respect. And that was bigger than any applause.
By the next morning, my name gleamed in silver script on the mission hall's board.
Rank Two: Micah.
The crowd around the board whispered constantly as they looked at it. Some with awe, some with disbelief, others with plain jealousy.
I stood at a distance, a hood drawn low, listening to the whispers.
"Impossible. He's been in the Inner Circle for such a short time."
