“So…this is the girl.” The slightly heavyset man inspected me, like I was a fairy-tale come to life right in front of him.

  “Lady Esra in the flesh. I must say, you look rather normal compared to some of the rumors I’ve heard. A bit pale perhaps but nothing like the rumors said.”

  I didn’t quite know what to say to that. Lord Erik Everstand 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 powerful underneath.

  “My Lord, just what kinds of rumors have you heard?” Damn it. That had come out sounding a bit harsher than I had intended it to.

  “I’m sure you know most of them. Just that you’re supposed to be more ghost than person. More of a rumor than anything else. 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.”

  He shrugged his heavy shoulders, leaned back in his seat. “Amongst the nobility, there are even people who say you’ve died, and my dear friend has been covering it up.” He waved his hands genially. “Not that I ever paid much heed to such rumors of course.”

  That was quite a bit worse than I had imagined. One of those rumors was true, in a manner of speaking.

  “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. My father had been in his study when our guests had arrived, leaving me with the awkward task of entertaining a Lord. Thankfully, my mystique did most of the talking for me.

  My father was at least two good heads taller than Lord Erik. The two men stared at each other. The air grew heavier. By now, I recognized that was just the effect of a person with a lot of mana letting it run freely in their bodies.

  My body tensed.

  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.

  What?

  “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. As imposing as ever, My Lord.”

  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 of peace 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. I haven’t seen him since he was a boy, I was hoping I might see him today.”

  Lord Erik paused, glance around. His searching grew more frantic by the second. “Oh no that brat! 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 and had me stumbling over. My father looked confused. Lord Erik, oddly, looked the most concerned out of all of us.

  “Oh no.” He groaned.

  “I do apologize Lord Adrian.” Lord Erik sighed. “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 while they have them. At their age, it’s important that they learn everything they can and cannot do.”

  I followed in their wake. My father led the way. That one loud boom hadn’t repeated, but the more we walked, the more I heard something else. The sounds of screaming and shouting.

  My father led us to a large, rectangular patch of raised stone tiles. Just outside the rectangular patch was a very large hole in the ground. Information intruded its way into my mind. One of Esra’s shrouded memories. This was supposed to be some kind of sparring arena and I was fairly certain that giant hole wasn’t supposed to be there.

  There were many parts of the manor I had never seen before, especially on the grounds themselves. This was one of them.

  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 small, fiery haired man charged forward. No, not a man at all. He couldn’t have been any older than I was! 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 did recall a few memories of Esra having spoken to him…or more specifically, her trying to avoid speaking to him. He didn’t have a sword or any other weapon I could make out.

  The young man, Damian, 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. Estovan might have stood in place, but his body twisted and turned slightly at each blow, just enough that the boy’s blows always ended up missing him by a hair.

  “God damnit!” The boy roared. He got faster. He also got more uncoordinated. Some of his strikes had so much momentum behind them he almost fell over whenever Estovan dodged.

  Estovan himself didn’t seem to care at all. His face was impassive. He never moved a step.

  In the end, I didn’t even see his strike. Damian just stopped moving.

  “I think that’ll be quite all.” Estovan mused, his hand at the boy’s throat, bodily lifting him into the air with one hand.

  It might have just been my imagination, but I thought I could see something rippling near his hand.

  The boy fell on his knees, coughing and gasping.

  My father clapped. Lord Erik sighed like any tired father would.

  “That was a wonderful demonstration Estovan.” My father’s voice boomed out. “Though, I am surprised you would take the time to train the young Lord.” His gaze moved towards the very large hole. “And more surprised that you felt the need to use your Gift.”

  Estovan tipped his head. “The young Lord did surprise me. Ambushed me when I was doing my rounds. I used it without thinking.”

  “Damian you fool of a boy!” Lord Erik’s voice boomed almost as loud. “He thought you were an assassin. You’re lucky he didn’t kill you with the first blow!”

  The boy flinched. Lord Erik sighed, his shoulders relaxing. “But I do see you are getting better with Earth. You’ve been training.”

  Damian didn’t seem particularly pleased about the praise. At least, he wouldn’t meet his father’s gaze. “You don’t need to soften your words, Father. Cassian would have made short work of this fight.”

  His father shook his head. “Cassian is five years your senior. Don’t be too harsh on yourself. You did make old Estovan move in the end.”

  Damian seemed to accept these words. He bowed to the Duke. “I apologize, My Lord. I simply wanted instruction from the First Sword of House Veyne. I got ahead of myself.”

  My father just smiled and waved him off. “Nonsense. The bonds between our Houses run deeper than a few formalities.”

  Damian straightened, looked around. His gaze found me. Now, I wouldn’t say I was hiding behind my father exactly. That’s just where I happened to be.

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  “And just who is this father?”

  It shouldn’t have been possible for just six words to have the contempt Damian had just put into them.

  “This is Esra Veyne.” Erik Everstand said gently, perhaps trying to warn his son.

  If it was a warning, Damian did not take it. He stepped closer, past my father, 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. She just looks like a scared little girl. Please father, don’t tell me she’s the one.”

  A large part of me wanted to turn around and walk away. Unfortunately, an even larger part of me crossed my arms and glared right back.

  “Your Lord Father did just call out my name, didn’t he? Did that not answer you? Perhaps you might be a little dim?” It was a stupid thing to say. I knew even as the words left my mouth.

  He stared at me. Snorted. “I see how it is. The daughter of Duke Veyne is 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.”

  There was something about someone actively trying to pick a fight with you that worked even when you knew exactly what they were trying to do.

  Mana coursed through my veins, though I didn’t remember actively thinking of channeling it. Damian’s eyes widened. The mana demanded action, and here that meant smacking this pompous ass right in his smug f-

  “Damian, smooth your tongue. What did we say about having proper manners?” Erik Everstand stepped in smoothly, putting a hand on his son’s shoulders. “You did promise you would try to be more agreeable. Yes?”

  “But Father! Just look at h-”

  “Damian.” A single word, slicing through whatever protest his son might have made. Damian stiffened, sagged.

  Duke Everstand turned towards me, giving me an apologetic smile. “Do excuse him, Lady Esra. My son sometimes speaks before thinking. That and he’s had to make some difficult decisions. Do excuse him for this discourtesy.”

  All I could do was nod and step back. “It’s fine, My Lord. We are both around the same age. Let’s just consider it a petty argument between kids?”

  “Oho. Not only does the Lady have a frightening amount of mana for her age, she’s well mannered to boot.” Duke Everstand grinned, patting his son on the shoulder. Damian looked like he’d swallowed a lemon.

  The flare of annoyance was gone now anyway. My father glanced at me from the corner of my vision and he was smiling. Something warm flared in my chest at the sight. Had I really just considered punching another noble in the face over some words?

  “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 cast one last glance in Estovan’s direction. The man had started doing a series of complicated looking stretches.

  He had been rather impressive. Now that I could feel my own mana, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to pester him.

  “My Lady, please do remember to mind your manners.” Anias whispered into my ears as she leaned close.

  It was hard to hide my discomfort. I tried my best anyway, trying to hold the fork in my hand in the exact way I was supposed to. You had to pinch it from the sides. That was proper.

  Apparently, a noble wasn’t allowed to just eat in the presence of other nobles. 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 a spoon.

  My experience with these kinds of table manners was nonexistent 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.

  Perhaps I had been reincarnated into hell.

  Gingerly bringing it to my lips, I bit down. Flavor exploded in my mouth, and I leaned back against my chair, sighing contentedly. The cooks really had honed in on what I’d liked to eat frighteningly quickly.

  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. She rarely ate, and when she did, she never finished the portions they prepared for her. Actually eating and getting a bit of exercise had started to fix some of the damage to my body, but this was going to take a while.

  “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. You would think that was against etiquette. It only was if you were below a certain rank. How convenient.

  “I believe His Majesty will be most pleased this year.” My father answered. “I dare say it’ll be one of the more impressive tournaments in the Kingdom. We’ve already sent off the arms we were supposed to, now we simply have to manage our own affairs.”

  This was the first time I was hearing anything about a tournament. “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 felt Anias' gaze on my back. Damian was sitting opposite me, and he was 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 Majesty, they may be awarded with any kind of boon they ask for. They might even join the Royal Guard, if they wish.”

  He stuffed his mouth again, continuing after a few seconds. “Our tournament in Aelheim will certainly be impressive, but alas it will pale in comparison to the real thing.”

  That definitely sounded a lot more elaborate than I had imagined. It sounded like a bunch of qualification tournaments all leading up to the real thing.

  “Don’t go looking so nostalgic now my friend.” Erik grinned. “I’d have thought you’d be less wistful after Aziah so thoroughly beat you for all to see.”

  Duke Adrian sounded like he’d choked on his food. “Come now, don’t bring up bad memories over dinner.”

  “You participated in this…King’s Tournament?”

  My father’s face reddened a little at my question. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Not so long as that.” Duke Erik grinned. “Your Lord Father came back from war, thinking quite highly of himself and who could blame him? Well, that gave him a rather big head, one that Lady Aziah Storm thoroughly cut back down to size.”

  It was a little hard to take all of this in. “So you did qualify to the…main tournament though, right?”

  “I was in the last match.” My father said, taking a very generously large sip of his wine. “If it’d been any other year. Oh well….”

  There was a companionable silence after that. Or at least, it would have been companionable if I didn’t notice Damian staring right at me.

  “You know, it’s rude for a Lord to stare at a Lady this openly.”

  He blinked. His face reddened.“What kind of person doesn’t even know about something this important?”

  I had been quite thoroughly ignoring him so far. Apparently, that hadn’t been enough to keep him from talking.

  “It’s not like someone like you would ever have the honor of competing in one of those. Such an injustice to see someone like the ‘Quickstep’ raise someone who can’t even leave their room. If I’d had such a worthless daughter I would-”

  Worthless.

  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, sit still!” His father’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

  Damian didn’t look too pleased, and I gave him my most smug grin.

  “Esra, you should apologize. He will, too.” My own father’s voice from right beside me. Not harsh. Not especially kind either.

  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. My fists slowly clenched and unclenched.

  “I’m sorry for drenching you. That coat looked very expensive.”

  Damian’s glare didn’t soften at all. That was the only reason I continued. “Though, I did wipe off some of the dirt our Estovan left on your clothes.”

  His face twisted. He shook. For a moment I thought he’d leap across the table at me. He flung something at me instead. It fell on my lap. It was a white handkerchief.

  My heart sank. I had read enough novels in this world to know what this meant.

  “Lady Veyne.” Damian drawled. “I do hope your attacks are just as effective inside an arena. I challenge you to a duel.”

  I glanced at my father. He looked as stunned by this as I was.

  “Erik, control your son.”

  Lord Erik looked like he was about four seconds from having a heart attack right there. “Would that I could my friend.”

  He looked over at his son. “Is this really what you want, my son?”

  Damian met his father’s gaze. “If I don’t have the choice, then I might as well see first.”

  I didn’t have the faintest idea what they were talking about. All I know is that the last thing I want to do is fight anyone.

  “Father, don’t tell me this means I have t-”

  My father gave me an apologetic smile.

  Well, fuck.

  by bd90z

  “How hard can it be?”

  Note: contains a lot of swearing