The Prince and the Princess (4)
"Move aside."
"If you tell me your business, I will comply."
The Second Prince let out a hollow laugh. The man had not knelt at the sight of him, nor offered any proper courtesy. He blocked the path ahead and yet refused to yield to the command.
"You dare treat the sacred royal house as a joke."
"It is precisely because I do not that I cannot step aside, Your Highness."
When the Second Prince growled, the knight escorting the First Prince met him without flinching. Paola and Leone, who had just arrived, exchanged another bewildered glance at the standoff between the two men. For reasons they could not fathom, the Second Prince’s attitude was far too volatile.
The Second Prince’s expression slowly changed. He drew himself up with deliberate dignity and issued an order to the escort knight in a altered tone.
"You have fulfilled your duty. Now remove yourself from my way."
"Your Highness, my sworn command is to devote both body and soul to aiding His Highness the First Prince in his training. The only ones who may order me from this spot are His Majesty the King or His Highness the First Prince himself."
The knight spoke pointedly, touching on the matter of precedence. The Second Prince’s brows twitched with clear displeasure.
"You wretch."
It was then that the First Prince approached them. Paola and Leone straightened their postures and took up positions beside the Second Prince.
"It’s all right now."
The First Prince placed a hand on the escort knight’s shoulder. The knight withdrew with crisp precision and moved to stand at the First Prince’s side.
"Are you all right?"
The question clearly referred to the training. The First Prince nodded as if it were of no consequence.
"I’m fine."
Though they were brothers, they bore little resemblance. The thought struck Paola suddenly. Both had inherited the deep brown hair of the Luar royal family, yet the First Prince possessed his father’s vivid blue eyes and keen intellect, while the Second Prince had the green eyes of his late mother. Their features differed just as sharply: the First Prince radiated a gentle, refined air, whereas the Second Prince’s face was rough and fierce.
Feeling the First Prince’s mild presence, Paola sent an envious glance toward the knight who served him. Wait a moment. That black hair… that bearing…
Almost as soon as the face rose in Paola’s mind, Leone leaned close and whispered.
"It seems to be him. The one from the Royal Guard…"
"I recognized him too. To think the instructor assigned to His Highness the First Prince would be someone like this."
Paola answered and narrowed his eyes, studying the swordsmanship instructor. The instructor returned his gaze with a perfectly indifferent black stare. Paola looked the knight up and down, trying to gauge his skill, but could reach no conclusion. At least my equal… no… stronger than me…
Before Paola’s thoughts could continue, the First Prince’s voice broke the silence and rang across the courtyard.
"Kyle."
The Second Prince turned a deliberately scowling face toward the brother who had called his name. He had meant to begin with a mocking attack disguised as jest in order to seize the initiative, but the ploy failed.
"Brother."
"So, what brings you here?"
As usual, it was the First Prince who took control of the conversation.
The Second Prince forced a thin smile onto his face, doing his best to conceal his extreme discomfort.
"What exactly are you doing?"
"Can you not tell by looking? I am receiving sword instruction. I was in the middle of focused training. I assume you have a proper reason for interrupting me?"
The Second Prince gave an insolent shrug.
"I came because I was worried about my elder brother’s training, yet you answer so coldly."
"If your worry consists of launching surprise attacks from a distance, it is a rather mischievous sort of concern."
The Second Prince barked a laugh. The more directly his faults were pointed out, the more boldly he had to respond.
"I was merely curious whether the knight instructing my brother possessed even the minimum skill required for the task. If he cannot even block a light jest like that, he would lack the barest qualification."
The First Prince glared at the Second Prince with open disbelief. The Second Prince continued without pause.
"Has it not been quite some time since that knight began instructing you in swordsmanship? The rumor only reached my ears after more than a week. It is not as if you had never learned the sword before, and with your exceptional mind you should have retained the basics. So why are you still spending so much time on fundamentals, and grip at that, rather than forms?"
For the first time, the First Prince’s face crumpled with clear displeasure.
"Every person teaches differently. Do not make groundless accusations."
"No, brother. It could never be that your talent or qualities are lacking. It must mean that this knight’s teaching ability and skill as a knight are insufficient."
What did that bastard just say? That the only ones who could move him from this spot were the King and the First Prince? The insolent cur. A savage smile bloomed on the Second Prince’s lips.
The First Prince could no longer tolerate the Second Prince’s continued nitpicking of his knight and the subtle barbs aimed at himself as well. He raised his voice slightly.
"Is that how you were taught? When facing talented individuals, are you to doubt them from the start rather than trust in their ability?"
"I believe the time has come when we may fairly evaluate that ability."
The Second Prince countered provocatively and turned his gaze toward the First Prince’s instructor.
"If you have a mouth, use it and answer. Is the lack of progress in this instruction due to your insufficient skill? Or is it because my brother’s sword talent is mediocre?"
The instructor lowered his head and replied.
"Neither."
The Second Prince’s brows twitched. Good. Let us hear how glibly that tongue of his can wag. He slid his right hand beneath his left arm and folded them across his chest.
As if the Second Prince’s arrogant attitude did not trouble him in the least, the instructor’s voice remained perfectly level.
"The reason I continue to correct His Highness the First Prince’s basic stance is that I place utmost importance on fundamentals, and because I fear that rushing his progress might injure His Highness’s precious body."
The Second Prince snorted. He had never intended to listen to the instructor’s words in the first place; prepared retorts flowed smoothly from his mouth.
"To my ears, that sounds like nothing but an excuse. Every step of the process is unfolding clearly before my eyes, yet in your eyes do I appear to be a blind fool who cannot recognize it?"
The First Prince seized the Second Prince by the shoulder.
"Kyle, no matter what, this man is my teacher. Your language seems rather excessive."
The Second Prince roughly shook off Louis’s hand where it rested on his shoulder.
"Brother, is it not perfectly reasonable to inquire about his qualifications?"
"His qualifications are more than sufficient."
Louis could have mentioned that the knight had been personally sent by their father from the First Royal Guard, but he deliberately avoided mentioning the King. Further discord arising from careless words would only cause trouble for him as well.
"Then it should be possible to simply prove those qualifications, should it not?"
Prove? The First Prince’s brows rose.
The Second Prince gave an exaggerated shrug and jerked a thumb toward the two knights behind him. Paola’s shoulders flinched when he was indicated.
"If he does not even possess skill equal to the escorts who accompanied me today, how could he possibly presume to call himself my brother’s teacher?"
The First Prince did not bother refuting him with words. Nor did he particularly wish to avoid the proxy duel the Second Prince was now proposing. What reason was there to refuse a fight he could not possibly lose?
Hiding those thoughts, the First Prince continued to admonish his brother.
"Are you truly going to engage in something so childish as a quarrel between brothers, arguing over whose knight is stronger?"
The Second Prince shook his head as if in pity.
"It would be impossible for me to cross blades with you, brother. It would only bring loss to us both."
"Even so, one cannot drag others into personal matters. Is that the proper attitude for one who would be king?"
"How could discussing the qualifications of a prince’s teacher ever be considered a personal matter?"
The Second Prince pressed forward obstinately. Then he crooked a finger arrogantly, summoning Paola. At that haughty gesture, a vein briefly bulged on Paola’s forehead before vanishing. Maintaining an expressionless face with some effort, he walked forward until he stood before the Second Prince.
"Duel with this knight."
As if issuing an order to one of his own men, the Second Prince spoke thus to the instructor. Then he approached Paola and lowered his voice as though to whisper.
"It doesn’t matter if you half-kill him. Ruin that bastard somehow."
Paola gave the Second Prince a look filled with complicated emotions. Though his superior was not one he particularly liked, Paola was a man who obeyed orders without question. Yet the command the Second Prince had just given him raised doubts about whether it could truly be carried out.
"Arsen…"
"It’s all right."
Despite Louis’s attempt to dissuade him, the instructor stepped forward. There was no hesitation in his manner. The Second Prince frowned. He’ll be thoroughly disciplined by the vice-commander of the Raven Knight Order soon enough.
"We shall withdraw, brother."
With a smile in his voice, the Second Prince spoke. The First Prince maintained a displeased expression as he stepped back. Once the spectators had retreated, a dueling ground formed naturally.
Paola spoke quietly to the instructor standing across from him.
"His Highness the First Prince’s acting is truly superb."
Maxim, disguised as Arsen Bern, twitched an eyebrow. It was clear the First Prince had deliberately played along with the Second Prince’s intentions to create this situation. The logic was that reasoning with an unreasonable opponent would yield the same result. He wondered if the prince trusted his skill too much. It seemed Paola had noticed the performance, but Maxim had no intention of confirming it.
"I’m not sure what you mean."
"And you seem quite good at acting yourself. Why hasn’t your expression changed at all?"
Paola drew his sword from his belt. Maxim observed the sharp edge of the blade flickering in Paola’s hand. In that instant, Paola became certain he could not defeat the black-haired knight with a sword. Even with my mace it would be difficult. With a bitter smile, Paola assumed his stance.
Maxim drew his sword from its sheath and mirrored the stance. The natural flow of it, like a river, drew an inward gasp of admiration from Paola. Is that the level required to enter the Royal Guard? It seemed the Second Prince did not even know the knight belonged to the Royal Guard. That’s why he sent me.
Whether his luck was good or bad, Paola felt tension flood his body at the prospect of a worthy opponent after so long. The black-haired knight’s lips curved ever so slightly.
"I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold back appropriately."
Look at this guy. Paola smiled back.
"You speak as if you’ve already won. Whether something is long or short can only be known by comparing them."
The knight’s moderate provocation stirred Paola’s competitive spirit. A feeling of elation he had not experienced in quite some time slowly rose within him. Though the opponent might be unbeatable, had Paola not overcome such foes many times before? From his days as a common soldier to after he had become a knight, Paola had won many battles he should not have been able to win.
"Since this is a friendly match, I will refrain from using aura."
Maxim nodded. No wind stirred in the courtyard. A battle spirit rose between the two knights, and several phantom exchanges of blades occurred in their minds. The probing phase to find the optimal opening for both continued until—
Bang—!
The knight’s sword cut through the air with a resonant sound. The ring of steel pierced the spectators’ ears and reverberated through their heads and bodies. It was Paola who had seized the initiative by the narrowest margin. Mana surged rapidly through his bloodstream. The thrilling sensation that reached his fingertips made Paola’s lips curve in a shiver of excitement.
Further probing is meaningless.
That was Paola’s judgment. If he believed himself at a disadvantage, he must not allow the opponent to seize control of the attack. He would rob the opponent of the chance to react and land his strikes exactly where he wished. Forcing one’s attack to reach the desired point was essentially the same as manipulating the opponent’s response at will.
Bang—!
Paola gave no ground. The greater the distance between them, the more time the opponent would have to think. He had to close in and lead the fight into the kind of chaotic melee where he excelled.
…Still, things aren’t going exactly as I thought.
Paola clicked his tongue inwardly. Though he was confident in his superiority of experience over anyone, the black-haired knight’s responses seemed to transcend what could be bridged by mere difference in years. The sword moved as though it were part of his body. Each parry employed a different technique. He would respond with a smooth deflection, then, the moment Paola’s swordplay changed, seize the opening with a hard, powerful counter to disrupt the attack. When Paola thrust quickly, the knight’s blows accelerated to match; when he mixed in slower moves to change the rhythm, the knight scattered his blades in dizzying response. It was as if the man were teaching him a lesson, testing Paola’s own sword.
And yet that very skill was more than qualified to test Paola’s blade.
"…What a vicious bastard."
With their swords locked, Paola muttered the words before he could stop himself.
"Now I understand what you meant about not being able to hold back."
Within Paola’s field of vision, the knight’s lips were curved in a smile.
"I got a little excited, that’s all."
At that reply, Paola snorted. Yet the words that left his mouth were completely at odds with his expression.
"It seems His Highness the Second Prince dislikes you quite intensely."
"I noticed as much."
"Why did you respond in that manner?"
"I merely carry out the orders given to me faithfully."
At the meaningful remark, Paola shook his head.
"His Highness the Second Prince may not look it, but he stands at the center of palace power. That was a foolish response."
"The senior knight saying that doesn’t seem to like His Highness the Second Prince very much either."
Paola let out a hearty laugh at the knight’s counter-question.
Their conversation was masked by the ringing clashes of their blades and did not carry.
"I won’t answer that question."
That aside. Paola changed the subject while blocking Maxim’s counterattack.
"To think you’d get excited over the sword of a worthless has-been like me. You must either love the sword very much, or you haven’t crossed blades with many people."
"No. Your sword is strong, senior. It is not a blade that can be dismissed as worthless, nor are you a has-been. However, judging from your swordplay, you do not appear to be a purely specialized swordsman."
Paola nodded. He had expected it to be noticed eventually. The habits from using a mace still surfaced occasionally even when he wielded a sword.
"Does it bother you that it’s not my main weapon?"
"Not at all. I’m enjoying myself quite thoroughly even now."
"You seem to be enjoying this match. Even though it is a duel entangled in the political and personal affairs of two princes?"
At Paola’s question, the knight gave a light nod.
"Even if it is a match forced upon us, that is no reason not to enjoy it. It is not a duel to the death, after all. Since we’re doing it anyway, why not take pleasure in it?"
Paola let out another hollow laugh.
"…I suppose that’s true."
At some point, the rhythm of the swordplay had fallen under the knight’s control. Without even realizing when the initiative had been stolen, Paola found himself moving his arms in response to the knight’s strikes.
"You may surrender if you wish."
An obvious provocation. Yet strangely, Paola did not dislike it.
"Don’t provoke me too much."
Though he had yielded the offensive, Paola remained unshaken. His true nature lay in defense rather than attack. A body that had crossed countless battlefields and even more lines between life and death moved before his mind could think, blocking every strike. Each indelible scar etched into his flesh guided Paola’s arms along the proper path. He parried the irregular and sometimes textbook strikes.
"…Haha."
Paola laughed without realizing it. It had been a long time since he had been pushed this hard, and even longer since he had entered a genuine defensive posture only to find it difficult to hold.
Little by little, like bolts sliding free, Paola’s defense began to crumble. Forcing his increasingly sluggish posture back into form, Paola thought, In that case, since I’m going to lose anyway, I might as well lose decisively.
The sword rising from below. In that instant, Paola abandoned all defense and slashed straight downward in a single line.
Clang—!
The loudest sound since the match began reverberated through the courtyard, and with a dull thud, Paola’s sword plunged into the ground, declaring the outcome of the duel. As the First Prince’s face lit up with delight, the Second Prince’s expression drained of color—not with rage, but with something closer to shock.