"So…this is the girl." The slightly heavyset man inspected me over, like I was a fairytale come to life right in front of him and he couldn't quite believe he was really looking at me.
"Lady Esra in the flesh…I must say…you look rather normal compared to some of the rumors I've heard."
I didn't quite know what to say to that. Lord Erik Peyne was apparently one of the many retainers under the service of my father. He was a short, chubby looking man that somehow still gave off the air of being someone important.
"And just what kinds of rumors have you heard?" Crap. That had come out sounding a bit harsher than I had intended it to.
"Oh…just that you're supposed to be more ghost than person. More of a…rumor. It's said that a man could spend their entire life working in the Veyne manor and yet never see Lady Esra with their own eyes. Honestly, in the surrounding town, I'm pretty sure they don't even think you actually exist."
That…was quite a bit worse than I had imagined. It also was quite a bit worse than anything Anias had mentioned.
Something about Lord Erik's tone told me that he was both teasing me, and not exaggerating things at all.
"Ah…Lord Erik. You needn't have come here, I was just about to go and receive you myself."
I didn't see Duke Adrian Veyne approach. He was at least two good heads taller than Lord Erik. The two men stared at each other, and I could practically feel something about the air itself change. There was a heaviness to everything that almost made it hard to breathe.
I had…a very bad feeling about this.
Then, my father stuck out his arm, only for Lord Erik to clasp it a second later. There was a loud thundering boom as soon as their hands met, and then the pressure was gone.
"Nonsense, these old bones of mine still work just fine." Erik said with a booming laugh. "Besides, I had to see if you haven't gone senile in your old age now."
My father just smirked. "Good to see you haven't gone soft on me either. The Kingdom would weep if all it took was a few years to dull your blade."
Some understanding flicked between the two, something that didn't require words and that I wasn't privy to. My father glanced at me, paused, and turned to Lord Erik.
"Where is young Damian? I was told he'd be attending too."
Lord Erik paused, glance around. His searching grew more frantic by the second. "Just where in the hells did he wander off to?"
A small boom rang through the air at exactly that moment. It made the walls rattle for a moment. I instinctively raised up my hands and looked around. Lord Erik, oddly, looked even more wary than me.
"Oh no…."
----------------------------
"I do apologize Lord Adrian." Lord Erik murmured. "You know how the young ones are these days. Can't leave them out of your sight for one second without them getting into some kind of trouble or another."
"Nonsense. The young should use their energies like they see fit. At their age, it's important that they learn everything they can and cannot do."
I followed behind the two men as my father led the way behind the mansion. That one loud boom hadn't repeated itself, but the more we walked, the more I could hear something else. The sounds of screaming, shouting. The clacking of swords. The sounds of battle.
My father led me to a large, rectangular patch of Earth, not too far away from the mansion. I knew what this place was. This was the manor's small sparring arena. Esra had a few shrouded memories of this place.
The cause of the disturbance was also more than obvious now.
"Don't screw with me! Don't think you can just stand there and block!"
A young, fiery haired man charged forward. There was a layer of…earth covering his arm, almost in the shape of two large gloves.
Facing him was Estovan. Estovan was my father's head of Guard. I hadn't ever spoken to him directly, but I could recall a few memories of Esra having spoken to him…or more specifically, her trying to avoid speaking to him.
He was a wiry man in his mid thirties that didn't quite give off the impression of strength. Rather, he gave off the impression of control. As if every single time he twitched it was something he did deliberately. I could see why Esra didn't like him.
The young man charged towards Estovan, throwing a punch aimed squarely at the man's face. Estovan didn't even seem to move, but the man's blow didn't connect.
"Damn it. Stay bloody still." The boy roared, trying to punch Estovan in the chest this time.
It was more obvious now, but Estovan was moving. His body twisted and turned just slightly, just enough that the boy's blows missed him by a hair.
"God damnit!" The boy roared, getting faster and faster with his attacks.
Estovan didn't seem to care at all. He kept moving just enough that none of the boy's attacks hit him.
In the end, I didn't even see him move. All I saw was the boy stop moving.
"I think that'll be quite all." Estovan mused, his hand at the boy's throat.
The boy fell on his knees, coughing and gasping.
My father and Lord Erik both clapped their hands excitedly as they stepped forward.
"A wonderful demonstration Estovan." My father's voice boomed out. "Not a movement wasted, not a glance cast without some kind of purpose."
Estovan only tipped his head under the praise. "My Lord is too kind to me."
"Damian, that was a fine display. Your footwork has improved considerably." Lord Erik said proudly, patting his son's shoulder.
Damian didn't seem particularly pleased about the praise. At least, he wouldn't meet his father's gaze. "I still lost. I need to get stronger. I barely landed a hit on him."
His father shook his head. "The fact that you can even get close to landing a hit on Estovan at your age is more than most people can say. You will get stronger in time."
Damian seemed to accept these words…and then his gaze found me.
"And just…who is this father?"
It shouldn't have been possible for just six words to have the contempt Damian just put into them.
I stood straighter all on my own.
"This is Esra Veyne." Erik Peyne said gently, perhaps trying to warn his son.
Damian…did not take the warning. He stepped closer until only a foot separated me and him. He was at least a few inches taller than me, and a decent bit broader besides that. His gaze roamed over me.
"Hmph…doesn't look like much. Just looks like a scared little girl."
I expected him to say something that would tick me off. I had prepared myself for it, had prepared myself to ignore it even. It still annoyed me. I stepped closer, until there was no distance between us at all.
"You got a problem with me?" I glowered up at him.
He just snorted. "A scared little girl who tries to act bigger than she is. I suppose that's at least somewhat better than the rumors, though not by much."
My mana coursed through my veins, though I didn't remember actively thinking of channeling it. The mana demanded my body move, and here that meant smacking this pompous ass right in his smug f-
"There there Damian. What did we say about having proper manners?" Erik Peyne stepped in smoothly between me and his son. "You did promise you would try not to cause any…incidents, didn't you?"
He turned towards me, giving me an apologetic smile. "Do excuse him. He has always been a bit of a hothead, always raring for a fight. He doesn't actually mean any of it you see. Please, do excuse my son."
I nodded and stepped back. The flare of annoyance was gone now anyway. My father glanced at me from the corner of my vision and he was…smiling softly. Something warm flared in my chest at the sight. Yes…I supposed it was a good thing I hadn't done anything to that brat.
"Come, let us talk about more…pressing matters inside." My father chimed in. "Besides, it has been a long time since you've visited, and there are some things that you absolutely must see."
I followed behind the trio as we made our way back.
I couldn't help but cast one last glance at Estovan's direction. The man had started doing a series of complicated looking stretches.
Our eyes met, and I gave him a small nod before I hurried to follow behind my father.
-------------------------------------------
"My Lady…please do remember to mind your manners." Anias slowly whispered into my ears as she leaned close.
I just nodded, acting for all the world like Anias hadn't said anything, even if I was more than a little annoyed on the inside.
Apparently, a noble wasn't allowed to just eat. No, that would be far, far too simple. Would make far too much sense. Instead, a noble had to put on an elaborate performance every time they so much as picked up their fork.
I had zero experience with these kinds of table manners, and Esra's memories weren't much help. So, Anias had been coaching me on my manners over the last few days, in preparation for today's visit. I leaned on that training as best I could right now, careful to cut out an appropriate chunk out of the meat laid out on the plate in front of me.
I gingerly brought it up to my lips, biting down. Flavor exploded in my mouth, and I leaned back in my chair, sighing contentedly.
This was something I probably wouldn't get used to no matter how many days went by. Apparently, Esra didn't much like the chef's cooking here. That, more than anything, just proved to me that there had been something very wrong with her.
"And just how are the preparations going for the King's Tournament? I take it they are all proceeding on schedule?" Lord Erik asked in between big mouthfuls of food. Apparently, etiquette was only for powerless kids around here.
"I believe His Grace will be most pleased this year." My father answered. "I dare say it'll be one of the more impressive tournaments in the entire realm."
This was the first time I was hearing anything about a tournament, and I was more than a little curious. "Father…what's this 'King's Tournament'?"
The conversation around the table stopped. I hadn't quite expected everyone to look at me, but right now they were. I could even feel Anias' gaze on my back. Damian was sitting opposite me, and I could see him looking at me as if I was an idiot.
"Ah, yes. I forgot my daughter has never shown much interest in this kind of affair." My father had a distant look to his eyes, as if he was searching for the words.
"Every year, each province is by decree to run a small tournament, inviting people from everywhere in the province to come and compete. Those who distinguish themselves are to go to the capital, where they'll take part in the 'King's Tournament'. If they impress His Grace, they may be awarded with any kind of boon they ask for. They might even join the Royal Guard, if they wish."
That…definitely sounded a lot more elaborate than I had imagined.
"Hah! What kind of person doesn't even know about something this important?"
My gaze flicked over to Damian, despite my efforts to ignore him. That wasn't enough to keep him from talking.
"Makes sense I guess. It's not like someone like you would ever have the honor of competing in one of those. After all, everyone knows all you do all day is just hide in your little room. Must be nice to never have to do anyth-"
My body moved before I even knew what I was doing. I grabbed a glass of water from the table in front of me, and flung it right across the table and towards Damian. You'd think he'd be ready for something like this. He was not.
He gasped as the water soaked him, and then he was rising from his chair. "Why you littl-"
"Damian, calm down." My father's voice stopped him in his tracks.
Damian didn't look too pleased, and I gave him the smuggest grin that I could.
"Esra, apologize."
What? I turned towards my father, wondering if he was actually serious. He definitely looked serious to me.
"But he…." I knew just how childish my protest sounded before I even voiced it. It took a physical effort for me to move past the lump in my throat.
"I'm sorry for drenching you. That coat looked very expensive."
Damian's glare didn't soften at all. If anything, he leaned forward and stuck a finger out at me. "Fight me. You wanna act like that? Prove to me you deserve to."
"What?" I just stared at him. Me…fight him?
"You have a gift don't you? Let's see you actually use it. Don't worry, I'll try and go easy on you."
My father looked as stunned by this as I was. He turned towards Lord Erik, who was slowly sipping his tea like he had all the time in the world.
"Erik, control your son."
Lord Erik slowly set down his cup, before meeting my father's gaze. "I don't see the harm in it. A friendly bout between the youngsters so they can settle some of their differences. The Gods know we had our share of duels back in the day."
"That's not…." My father floundered for the words, before eventually settling on "that's different!"
Damian's gaze had never left mine. "You gonna fight me, or do you need daddy's approval for breathing."
"Fine." I snarled back. "I hope you don't regret it."