The wind carried a strange quiet, the kind that pressed against the ears like held breath. Duke Amene stood hunched over his sword, clutching it against his chest like a talisman. Northern stood opposite him, straight-backed and loose-limbed, his expression somewhere between mild interest and inconvenience.
'This is going to be a bother… how do I even control my strength in this case.'
He focused on the Duke and said:
"I'm simply going to fight you with one talent and a dual-based sword ability. Is that okay?"
Duke Amene tilted his head, visibly confused.
'One talent… he says… isn't it supposed to be so to begin with?'
Northern noticed the confusion creasing the gentleman's brow and chuckled lightly.
"I'm a strange one, you see… I can copy people's talents. In fact, I very well might copy yours…"
'I don't have enough talent fragments, but he doesn't have to know that.'
