The courtyard stirred to life before the sun had fully risen.
A pale golden light stretched across the stone ground, catching the edges of blades and armor as soldiers moved in rhythm. The sharp sound of wooden swords clashing echoed through the morning air—steady, disciplined, alive.
Training had already begun.
Sweat, breath, and steel—this was the heartbeat of Delcra.
From the shadowed corridor above, Theodore stood silently, watching.
His hands were folded behind his back, posture straight, gaze sharp.
He wasn't watching the soldiers.
He was searching.
For one person.
Kael.
But he wasn't there.
Not among the trainees.
Not among the commanders.
Nowhere in sight.
Theodore's eyes narrowed slightly.
Strange.
From what he knew—what he had observed in the past—
Kael was not the type to remain idle while his soldiers trained.
He would have been here.
At the very least—watching.
Instead—
Another figure caught his attention.
At the far end of the courtyard, Elric stood with a bow in hand.
Her posture was elegant yet firm.
Controlled.
She moved through the ranks of soldiers, correcting their stance, adjusting their grip, guiding their aim.
Even from a distance—
Her authority was undeniable.
Without hesitation, Theodore stepped forward and descended into the courtyard.
"It seems," he began, voice smooth yet carrying across the space, "you are willing to teach Vaelthorn archery techniques to Delcra's soldiers."
Elric turned.
Her eyes met his.
A faint glare—subtle, but unmistakable.
"Why not?" she replied calmly. "We are all soldiers of Emestrild. Improving our techniques benefits everyone."
Her tone was even.
But there was steel beneath it.
Theodore showed no reaction.
His expression remained composed as he glanced around once more.
"I see," he murmured.
A pause.
Then—
"I also notice… His Grace is absent from the morning training."
His gaze returned to her.
"I have yet to see him."
A test.
Again.
Elric's fingers tightened slightly around the bow.
But her expression did not change.
"He has work to attend to this morning," she replied without hesitation.
A clean answer.
A believable one.
Theodore studied her.
Closely.
Watching for the slightest shift.
The smallest crack.
Then—
He smiled.
"Well, of course," he said lightly. "He is the Archduke now. Not merely a soldier as he once was."
Elric's eyes sharpened.
She knew that tone.
That subtle condescension.
Theodore Valdran—
A man born into nobility.
A man who never truly accepted the rise of commoners.
Not even now.
Not even after the war.
Not even after Reinhardt reshaped the empire.
Her voice cooled.
"He is the Hero," she said firmly. "The peace we stand in today exists because of him."
Theodore chuckled softly.
A low, amused sound.
"Please," he said, raising a hand slightly, "there is no need to take offense, my lady."
His gaze remained steady.
"I am well aware of Lord Kael's… importance."
A pause.
"But I had hoped to spar with him."
His smile thinned slightly.
"I wished to see for myself… the strength of the former Hero."
Elric didn't return the smile.
Instead—
She turned.
Walking toward the weapon rack.
Her movements were smooth.
Deliberate.
She picked up two wooden swords.
Then—
Without hesitation—
She tossed one toward him.
"Then spar with me," she said.
A faint, dangerous smile curved her lips.
"I was part of the Hero's campaign as well."
Theodore caught the sword effortlessly.
His smirk returned.
"Well," he said, lifting the blade, "that is an offer I cannot refuse."
His eyes gleamed slightly.
"I am also curious… about the strength of the Duchess of Vaelthorn."
The air changed.
Instantly.
Soldiers nearby slowed.
Then stopped.
All attention shifted toward the center of the courtyard.
They faced each other.
Still.
Silent.
Elric stood poised, her left hand holding the sword with refined precision, her right resting behind her back.
Elegant.
Controlled.
A noble stance.
The Vaelthorn style.
Theodore stood at an angle, his grip relaxed yet ready, blade pointed forward.
Unpredictable.
Then—
They moved.
Like thunder.
The clash rang sharp through the courtyard.
Wood struck wood—but the force behind it felt no different from steel.
Fast.
Precise.
Relentless.
Theodore pressed forward, his strikes fluid and efficient, each movement calculated.
Elric met him head-on.
Defending.
Redirecting.
Then—
Countering.
She did not remain on the defensive for long.
Every opening—
She took.
Every misstep—
She punished.
Their movements were refined.
Minimal.
No wasted motion.
No unnecessary force.
Only skill.
Only intent.
Around them, soldiers watched in silence.
Awed.
Captivated.
It was not merely a spar.
It was a display.
Of mastery.
"You are quite skilled with a sword," Theodore remarked mid-clash. "For someone known primarily as an archer."
Elric's expression did not change.
"You as well," she replied smoothly. "Your movements do not reflect your age."
A faint smirk followed.
Their blades met again—
Harder this time.
Then—
Simultaneously—
They struck.
Crack.
Both wooden swords shattered.
Fragments scattered across the stone.
The force sent both weapons flying from their hands.
Silence fell.
Theodore glanced down at his palm.
Red.
The impact had left its mark.
Then he chuckled.
"It seems Vaelthorn remains formidable," he said. "Even now."
He looked up.
"I am impressed, Your Grace."
Elric said nothing.
Her gaze dropped briefly to her own hand.
Bruised.
But steady.
She lifted her eyes again.
"You are impressive as well," she replied. "Especially… considering your age."
Theodore laughed.
Genuinely this time.
Placing his hands behind his back once more.
"You flatter me," he said. "This old man merely swung his arm."
His gaze shifted slightly.
Thoughtful.
"It has been a long time since I have crossed blades with a fellow Guardian."
Around them, the courtyard slowly came back to life.
But the tension—
Still lingered.
Because beneath the surface of that exchange—
Neither of them had been testing strength alone.
They had been measuring something far more dangerous.
Each other.
-----------------------------------------
The morning light had already filled the room.
Soft, warm rays slipped through the curtains, resting gently over the bed where Kael lay unmoving.
Robert stood nearby.
Quiet.
Still.
His hand reached slowly into his coat pocket, fingers searching until they found a small vial.
He exhaled faintly.
The medicine.
Prepared by Jaesper Greyl.
For moments like this.
When his chest tightened.
When his breath felt… wrong.
Carefully, Robert placed the pill in his mouth and reached for a glass of water on the table. He swallowed it down, his other hand pressing lightly against his chest.
A beat.
Another.
Then—
The tightness eased.
"…Ah…"
A quiet sigh escaped him.
He lowered his hand slowly, regaining his composure before turning his attention back to the bed.
Kael slept.
Peacefully.
For once.
No trembling.
No strained expression.
Just stillness.
Robert watched him in silence.
The sunlight brushed over Kael's pale face, softening his features. Even in rest, there was a faint exhaustion lingering—like something his body had not yet recovered from.
He hasn't truly rested…
Not since before Theodore's arrival.
Not since the fainting.
Not since the fever.
Last night had been worse.
Kael's body had burned with heat, his breathing uneven. Robert had stayed by his side through it all, wiping his forehead, adjusting the blankets, watching every rise and fall of his chest.
Now—
The fever had finally subsided.
But the weakness remained.
Robert's gaze softened.
Then—
His expression shifted.
The memory returned.
"…He said he felt something familiar…"
Robert murmured under his breath.
His brows furrowed.
Kael's words from earlier echoed in his mind.
Familiar.
With Theodore.
But how?
Robert tried to recall—
Searched through fragments of the past.
Nothing.
He had never seen Kael and Theodore close.
Never seen them speak beyond formal greetings.
Never—
"…What do you remember this time…?"
His voice barely left his lips.
His hand moved unconsciously back to his chest.
A dull ache lingered.
Not physical—
But something deeper.
Reinhardt's warning came to mind.
Every time Kael's memories returned—
Pain followed.
And now—
Kael was weaker each time.
Robert clenched his fingers slightly.
He hated it.
Watching Kael suffer—
Without being able to stop it.
The door opened softly.
Robert turned.
Elric stepped in.
Her movements were quieter than usual, her expression carrying traces of fatigue.
"How is Kael?" she asked immediately.
Robert straightened slightly and stepped aside, giving her space near the bed.
"He's stable," Robert replied with a faint smile. "He woke up earlier… but fell asleep again. I told him to rest longer."
Elric let out a quiet breath.
Then moved closer.
Her gaze settled on Kael's face.
Careful.
Gentle.
"…And Theodore?" Robert asked after a moment. "Has he suspected anything?"
Elric did not look away from Kael.
"He's always suspicious," she answered. "But for now… I managed to distract him."
Her tone carried a quiet exhaustion.
Robert exhaled.
Relief—but not entirely.
"Will he stay longer?" he asked. "I'm worried he'll eventually notice something."
Elric did not answer immediately.
Instead—
She reached out.
Her fingers brushing lightly through Kael's hair.
A small, unconscious gesture.
"…We'll have to endure it," she said softly.
Robert's eyes shifted.
Then widened slightly.
"…Your hand."
Elric froze.
Her left hand.
Bruised.
Subtle—but visible.
She quickly pulled it behind her back.
"…Is it that obvious?" she asked, a hint of awkwardness slipping into her voice.
Robert stepped closer.
"Of course it is," he said firmly. "Let me see."
He extended his hand.
Waiting.
After a brief hesitation, Elric gave in.
Slowly revealing her injured hand.
Robert examined it carefully.
His brows knitted.
"It's starting to swell," he muttered.
Then his expression tightened.
"If Master Kael sees this… he won't take it lightly."
Elric gave a faint, tired smile.
"I know."
She gently pulled her hand back.
"I'll see the physician later. It's nothing serious."
Robert shook his head.
"Let me heal it."
But Elric raised her hand again.
Stopping him.
"Don't," she said quietly.
Her gaze met his.
"I know your condition, Robert. Don't waste your mana on me."
Robert stiffened.
She knew.
Of course she did.
"…It will strain your heart," she added.
Silence fell between them.
Then Robert sighed.
"…Alright."
A pause.
"But at least treat it before he wakes up."
Elric nodded.
"I will."
Her gaze returned to Kael.
"…Did he say anything earlier?" she asked. "His fever has gone down, right?"
Robert nodded.
"Yes."
Then—
He hesitated.
"…Actually… he asked me something."
Elric looked up.
"What was it?"
Robert folded his arms slightly.
"He asked if he had been close to Lord Valdran before."
Elric's brows furrowed.
"He said… he felt something familiar."
Silence.
Elric's eyes moved back to Kael.
Studying him.
Then slowly—
She spoke.
"…Maybe he was."
Robert looked at her.
"…Without us realizing it."
Her voice was quiet.
Thoughtful.
"You know how Kael is. He keeps things to himself… things we never knew existed."
Robert considered her words.
It made sense.
Logically.
"…That could be it," he admitted.
But then—
He shook his head slightly.
"…Still…"
Something in his expression remained unsettled.
"…It doesn't feel right."
Elric didn't respond.
She only watched Kael.
As if trying to read something hidden beneath his peaceful expression.
Because deep down—
They both felt it.
This wasn't just memory.
This wasn't just a coincidence.
Something—
Was returning.
And whatever it was—
It was not gentle.