Two days later, the Vermond training grounds looked less like a place for combat and more like a stage built to remind the world who ruled it.
Terraced stone seating curved around the central arena in wide polished tiers, draped with Vermond banners that shifted in the late afternoon wind. More than two hundred people had gathered across the grounds—noble families, retainers, officers, academy heirs, and servants moving in careful silence along the edges. Crystal lamps had been placed between the upper columns even though the sun had not yet set, and rows of beasts stood leashed or resting beside their masters like living ornaments of rank and status.
Cassian walked in with his slime bouncing quietly at his side.
The reaction spread in waves, first in murmurs, then in smiles, then in open laughter from the younger nobles who had less reason to hide it.
"So it's true."
"He really brought it."
"To a Vermond exhibition."
"I thought at least he would have the shame to leave it behind."
Cassian heard all of it. Every line. Every laugh. Every half-hidden comment that was not hidden nearly enough. None of it was new. If anything, the familiarity made it easier to carry. He kept his shoulders straight and his pace even as he walked along the stone path leading toward the arena floor.
His slime gave a happy little "splash."
A few more people laughed.
Cassian glanced down. "You're having a good time, huh?"
The slime bounced higher.
"Glad one of us is."
From the right side of the terraces, he caught sight of the Valecrest delegation. Lysandra's father stood near the front with the composed expression of a man trying not to look openly insulted by the setting he had been invited into. Her mother looked even worse. She did not speak, but the way her eyes rested on Cassian for a moment before drifting away said enough.
Shame.
Lysandra herself stood beside them in dark red formalwear, poised and beautiful as ever, though there was a stiffness to her posture that had not been there two days ago. She did not laugh with the others. That almost made it worse.
Then Lucien entered from the opposite side.
The shift in the crowd was immediate.
Conversations softened. Eyes followed. Attention gathered around him as naturally as flame gathered around dry paper. He wore dark training clothes trimmed in silver, simple by Vermond standards.
Nobles greeted him with smiles. Younger heirs straightened without thinking. A few of the girls in the upper rows leaned toward one another the second he appeared.
Cassian watched it happen and felt the shape of the day settle more firmly into place.
Lucien did not need to earn the moment. The moment arrived already belonging to him.
A herald stepped forward at the center of the grounds, his voice carrying cleanly across the arena.
"By order of House Vermond, today's spring exhibition will begin with a private demonstration between the first son, Cassian Vermond, and the second son, Lucien Vermond."
A murmur rolled across the terraces.
Then it sharpened.
By the time Cassian stepped fully onto the arena floor, he could already feel it in the air around him.
Nobody here was wondering who would win.
They were only waiting to see how badly he would lose.
A second herald raised one arm, and the outer runes around the arena flared to life in thin silver lines.
"Begin."
Lucien moved first, though he did not rush. He simply stepped forward with the easy confidence of someone who had never once doubted the outcome. A faint pulse of mana spread from him, smooth and controlled, and the summoning circle at his feet opened in a bloom of orange-gold light.
The lion that emerged drew a reaction from the crowd immediately.
It was enormous, close to three meters at the shoulder, its body built like a siege beast given life. Muscle shifted beneath red-gold fur, and where a normal mane should have been, fire rolled around its neck in restless waves, spilling sparks every time it breathed. Its eyes burned with a bright molten glow that made the arena seem smaller the moment it lifted its head.
Cassian looked at it for a second, then down at the little blue slime by his boots.
"Well," he muttered, "this hardly feels fair."
The slime answered with a cheerful "splash."
A few people laughed again.
Lucien smiled as if the whole thing amused him in a harmless way. "Do you still wish to proceed, brother? There is no shame in stepping back before things become unpleasant."
Cassian rolled one shoulder. "That sounded generous in your head, didn't it?"
"It sounded practical."
The lion padded forward, heat rippling around its paws. Cassian could feel the difference already. Pressure. Presence. Real weight. This was what a proper beast looked like. This was what the son of House Vermond was supposed to stand beside.
Then there was his slime.
The lion lunged.
Cassian moved back at once, but the strike had not been aimed at him. One massive paw came down toward the slime with enough force to crack stone.
The slime vanished under it.
Gasps rose from the terraces.
Then the lion shifted its weight and paused.
Its paw sank.
The blue blob had flattened into a thick ring beneath it, wobbling outward in a perfect little donut shape, the center empty as if it had decided being stepped on was more an inconvenience than a threat. The lion's paw slid through the slick center and dipped awkwardly lower than intended.
A burst of laughter broke through the audience before people could stop themselves.
Cassian blinked. "You can do that?"
The slime bounced free with a proud little wobble.
Lucien's smile thinned by a fraction. "Again."
The lion struck once more, faster this time. The slime stretched sideways in a flash, its body turning thin and long like a glossy rope. One end latched onto the lion's foreleg while the rest wrapped low across the other.
The next step came down wrong.
The lion stumbled.
It was not much. Half a slip at best. A disruption rather than a true fall. Even so, the sight of a giant flame-maned lion catching itself because of a slime was absurd enough to send ripples through the crowd.
Cassian almost laughed.
The slime bounced back toward him, then sprang forward again with what looked suspiciously like enthusiasm. This time it launched itself at the lion's face, hit one blazing cheek, and spread across it in a trembling sheet of blue jelly. The lion recoiled with a furious snarl, shaking its head hard enough to fling droplets in every direction.
One landed on Cassian's sleeve.
He looked at it, then at the slime as it reformed beside him.
"I'm starting to think you've been holding out on me."
The slime gave a delighted "splash."
Lucien exhaled lightly through his nose, still calm, still polished, though the warmth in his expression had cooled. "It is almost impressive," he said. "In the same way a street juggler might be, if one were feeling charitable."
A few nobles laughed at that. Others were still watching the slime with renewed curiosity.
Cassian heard murmurs from the Valecrest side. A shift. A harder edge. What had started as embarrassment was turning into something worse for them. The absurdity of it. The indignity. Their daughter tied to this.
Lucien raised one hand, and the lion obeyed instantly.
One command was enough for the beast to reset into perfect killing posture, flames lifting higher around its neck.
Then it moved for real.
Its body became a streak of red and fire. Cassian barely had time to turn before the impact came. A wave of heat crashed into him first, then force. He crossed his arms on instinct and still felt himself thrown backward several steps across the stone. Pain rang through both shoulders. His boots scraped hard against the arena floor before he managed to stop.
The slime bounced after him, circling his feet anxiously.
Lucien did not chase. He only stood there in the center of the arena, composed as ever, with the lion at his side like a creature out of legend.
That made it worse.
Cassian straightened slowly, back firm, breathing steady even with the ache climbing through his arms. He could hear the crowd again now. Murmurs. Quiet satisfaction. The sharp, ugly kind of amusement noble circles wore so well.
Lysandra had not looked away.
Neither had her family.
Lucien inclined his head slightly. "You see the difference now, I hope."
Cassian wiped a line of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "I saw it before you summoned the oversized furnace."
That earned a few snorts from the younger guests.
Lucien smiled again.
Then, just when it seemed the duel had reached its natural end, his fingers brushed once through the burning mane of his lion.
"I think," he said softly, loud enough for the whole arena to hear, "there is still room for one more lesson."
Lucien's words had barely settled when the lion moved.
This time it did not take the clean, measured stance of a beast waiting for orders. Fire surged harder through its mane, spilling in sharper bursts along its neck and shoulders. Its molten eyes locked onto Cassian with a heat that no longer felt like controlled aggression meant for display. It felt hungry.
A murmur ran through the terraces.
Aldric rose from his seat at once.
"Lucien," he said, his voice carrying across the grounds with enough force to cut through the noise. "Control your beast."
Lucien kept his eyes on the arena. "He is excited, Father. Nothing more."
The lion lowered itself, claws digging into the stone.
Aldric's tone sharpened. "I gave you an order."
For the first time that day, Lucien did not answer immediately.
The lion exploded forward.
"Cassian!" Aurelia's voice rang out from somewhere above, the first time she had sounded anything but detached all afternoon.
Cassian had already moved. He snatched the slime up with both hands on instinct and threw himself sideways as the lion crashed into the place where he had been standing a heartbeat earlier. The impact shattered stone and sent chips of black rock skidding across the arena floor.
The crowd broke apart into gasps, shouts, rising noise.
The slime jiggled violently in his grip. "Yeah, I know," Cassian muttered through his teeth. "I'm also seeing the problem."
The lion turned with frightening speed, flames trailing behind it like a torn banner. It was bigger up close, bigger than it had looked from across the arena, all weight and heat and killing force packed into one impossible body. Cassian ran before it lunged again.
He heard laughter at first.
Then he heard people realizing it was no longer funny.
He sprinted across the training grounds with his slime tucked against his chest, boots pounding over stone as the lion tore after him. Heat rolled at his back in waves. Once he risked a glance over his shoulder and saw the beast clear half the arena in a single bound, mane blazing brighter as it closed the distance.
"Lucien!" Aldric's voice thundered again. "Recall it now."
Still nothing.
Cassian vaulted over a low barrier, nearly lost his footing on the landing, then kept going as the lion smashed straight through it behind him instead of leaping over. Splintered stone burst in every direction. Noble guests stumbled back from the front rows. Servants scattered. A few guards reached for their contracted beasts, though none moved without Aldric's command.
From the Valecrest section, voices were rising now, sharper and uglier.
"This is disgraceful."
"You expect our daughter tied to that?"
"He is being chased through the grounds like prey."
Cassian heard enough of it even while running. Enough to know exactly where this was going.
The slime gave a frantic little "splash" and stretched one side of its body outward, slapping against Cassian's wrist as if trying to point somewhere.
"You've got a plan?" Cassian asked, breath rough. "That would be a fantastic time for one."
The lion lunged again.
Cassian dropped low on pure instinct, sliding beneath the sweep of one burning paw. Heat scorched across his shoulder and the edge of his coat smoked where the flames brushed it. He came up stumbling and nearly crashed into one of the stone posts lining the outer practice path.
Above the chaos, Lucien's voice finally came, smooth as ever.
"Brother," he called, "keep running. If you stop now, it really will end badly."
Cassian almost laughed at that.
So this was the lesson.
So this was what Lucien wanted in front of two hundred people, in front of the Valecrests, in front of Lysandra.
A son of House Vermond running for his life with a slime in his arms while a fire-maned lion hunted him across his own family's grounds.
Cassian tightened his hold on the little creature and kept moving, jaw clenched, spine still straight even as the chase dragged his dignity across the stone behind him.