Archibald's eyes settled on him one final time. "Prepare yourself carefully," he said calmly. "Tomorrow will decide whether you remain part of this household at all."
The warning sounded measured, almost compassionate, and that only made it worse.
The following morning, the training courtyard had already filled with servants, retainers, and younger disciples drawn by the promise of spectacle. Cold air lingered over the stone arena while frost still clung to the outer railings, the pale dawn casting long shadows across the gathered crowd. Conversations spread in hushed waves through the courtyard, some curious, others openly eager, but all of them focused on the lone figure standing at the center of the ring.
Blue kept his breathing steady despite the pain running through his body. The bruises from the previous night had darkened across his ribs and shoulder, and every movement carried a dull ache beneath his skin, but he remained standing with his silver eyes fixed forward.
Jordan lingered near the edge of the arena with his arms folded across his chest, smug satisfaction resting plainly on his face while Simir stood nearby, calm and unreadable as ever. Above them, seated upon the elevated viewing platform reserved for senior members of the household, Archibald observed the courtyard in silence. His expression revealed nothing.
A steward stepped into the center of the arena moments later, his heavy robes shifting in the morning wind as he raised his voice for the gathered crowd.
"By order of Archibald Pruitt, this trial shall determine the guilt or innocence of the accused."
The murmurs quieted almost immediately.
"Blue stands charged with theft against the household. He will face his accusers in combat before witnesses. Should he prevail, the accusations against him will be dismissed. Should he fail, judgment will stand."
The announcement settled heavily over the courtyard despite how formally it was delivered. Blue could already feel the outcome the crowd expected. Some watched him with pity. Others looked openly entertained. Most had already decided he was guilty before the trial even began.
Jordan certainly had.
His eyes remained fixed on Blue with barely concealed anticipation while Simir stepped into the arena at the steward's signal. Unlike Jordan, he carried himself without visible excitement, but the faint confidence in his expression made the outcome he expected just as clear.
The steward stepped aside. "First match. Simir Glossman."
The crowd shifted immediately, attention sharpening as Simir rolled his shoulders once before stopping several feet from Blue. The difference between them stood out clearly now. Simir was broader, heavier, and carried himself with the relaxed confidence of someone who had never seriously doubted victory before stepping into a fight.
Blue noticed the way several people in the crowd leaned forward expectantly.
They weren't waiting for a fair match.
They were waiting to watch him lose.
A cold breeze crossed the courtyard as Blue lowered himself slightly into stance despite the pain in his ribs. Across from him, Simir smiled faintly.
Then the steward's hand dropped.
The trial began.
Simir moved the moment the steward stepped away.
He crossed the distance quickly for someone with his heavier frame, his first strike slamming into Blue's raised guard hard enough to send pain shooting through his already bruised arms. Blue slid backward across the stone, boots scraping against frost and dust as the crowd erupted around them.
Simir didn't press wildly after the opening hit. He advanced carefully instead, forcing Blue backward with measured pressure while watching for mistakes. That control made him far more dangerous than Jordan had been.
Blue steadied himself and countered with a quick strike toward Simir's ribs, but the blow landed with little effect beyond drawing a faint smirk from him.
"You're slower than usual," Simir said calmly.
Blue ignored him and shifted sideways just before another punch crashed toward his jaw. The strike clipped the side of his face instead of landing cleanly, but the force still rattled his vision hard enough to blur the edges of the courtyard for a moment.
The crowd reacted immediately.
Some shouted encouragement toward Simir while others laughed openly each time Blue stumbled trying to recover his footing. A few looked uncomfortable watching the imbalance unfold so clearly, but none spoke against it.
Blue drove forward again before Simir could fully reset, forcing a short exchange at close range. His punches lacked power compared to normal, but speed and desperation still made him dangerous enough that Simir was forced to defend instead of simply overwhelming him outright.
For a few seconds, the fight looked almost even.
Then Simir caught Blue's injured side with a brutal elbow strike.
Pain exploded through Blue's ribs as his body folded instinctively around the impact. Simir seized the opening immediately, grabbing him by the shoulder and driving him hard against the stone floor. The collision knocked the remaining air from Blue's lungs while fresh pain tore through his chest.
"Still trying?" Simir asked quietly.
Blue pushed himself up before the sentence fully ended.
That earned another hit across the face.
Blood splattered across the stone as Blue staggered sideways, but he remained upright, breathing harder now while the ache in his ribs sharpened with every movement. Across the courtyard, Jordan watched with growing satisfaction while Archibald observed from above with the same unreadable calm he had carried since entering the arena.
Blue wiped blood from his mouth and forced himself forward again.
The crowd noise faded slightly around him as the fight dragged on. His body felt heavier now, slower to respond, while each breath scraped painfully through his chest. Even so, something inside him continued pushing forward despite the damage piling across his body.
Simir's expression hardened slightly.
He had expected Blue to stay down already.
Another exchange followed near the center of the courtyard, shorter and uglier than the earlier ones. Blue managed to avoid the first strike before driving a punch into Simir's stomach hard enough to force him back half a step. The reaction surprised several people watching nearby.
Simir recovered immediately.
His fist crashed into Blue's ribs with enough force to lift him partially off his feet before a second strike sent him sprawling across the stone courtyard.
This time Blue struggled to rise.
A murmur spread through the gathered crowd as blood dripped steadily from his mouth onto the frost-covered stone beneath him. His arms trembled trying to support his weight while pain pulsed through nearly every part of his body.
Simir approached more slowly now.
Confident.
Certain.
"You should've stayed invisible," he said.
Blue lifted his head slightly, breathing ragged but steady. "You sound just like him."
Simir's eyes narrowed.
Before Blue could rise fully, Simir drove a final blow into his chest hard enough to send him sliding across the courtyard stones. Blue's body finally collapsed near the outer edge of the ring, the strength leaving his arms before he could force himself upright again.
Silence settled briefly over the arena.
The steward stepped forward cautiously before raising his voice. "The first match is decided. Simir Glossman is victorious."
The crowd erupted immediately after.
Some cheered openly while others whispered among themselves as Blue remained motionless against the cold stone. Jordan's grin widened near the edge of the courtyard, but above them all Archibald remained seated in silence, watching Blue carefully as though measuring something beyond the fight itself.