The training grounds lay silent, the dueling circle scarred by fresh gouges and bloodied frost. Kairus leaned against the stone well, his breath pluming in the dusk air as he pressed a snow-packed cloth to his split lip. The spar with Rodrick had left him battered but alive—a minor miracle given the gladiator's reputation for breaking aspirants.
Rodrick tossed him a waterskin, the liquid inside sloshing with the sharp tang of medicinal ale. "You fight like a cornered wolf," he said, amusement threading his voice.
"All fangs and fury. Where'd you learn to channel aura that young?"
Kairus drank deeply, the ale burning a path to his hollow stomach. "Necessity."
"Necessity." Rodrick snorted, settling onto the well's edge with a groan. "Most boys your age are chasing comrades and women"
[System Alert: Reputation with Rodrick Tristan – "Respected" → "Intrigued."]
Kairus studied the gladiator. In his past life, Rodrick had died defending Duke Tristan from a Vasco ambush, his last words a warning shouted over the clang of steel. Loyal to the end. But loyalty can be redirected.
"You've got the bones of a swordsman," Rodrick said abruptly. "The speed, the instincts. But you're raw. Undisciplined."
He unsheathed his blade—a monstrous zweihander strapped to his back—and laid it across his knees. The steel shimmered with Tristan-forged runes, each groove glowing faintly blue.
"The Tristan Tempest style could hone you into something… formidable."
Kairus raised an eyebrow. "The same style Duke Tristan used to rout the Verris at Blackwater Pass?"
Rodrick's eyes narrowed. "You know your history."
"I know the Tempest requires precision. Control." Kairus gestured to his own battered form. "Two things you claim I lack."
The gladiator grinned. "Which is why you need a teacher."
Kairus pushed off the well, wincing as his bruised ribs protested. "And what does the Tristan family gain from training a backwater lordling?"
Rodrick's grin faded. "You think this is politics?"
"Everything's politics." Kairus met his gaze. "Duke Tristan didn't become the Empire's Shield by mentoring rivals."
A beat. Somewhere in the pines, a raven cawed.
"You're sharp," Rodrick said finally. "But you're wrong. The Duke values strength—true strength—above all. He'd see you as an investment. A blade to be honed."
[Insight Check (Past-Life Knowledge): Success.]
[Duke Tristan's Hidden Trait Revealed: Values loyalty to one's people above personal ambition.]
"Then your Duke and I disagree," Kairus said, limping toward the armory. "A blade's only as strong as the hand that wields it. Mine belongs to Varkaine."
Rodrick's voice halted him. "You think refusing makes you noble? It makes you a fool. The Vascos are already circling. Without allies—"
"Allies aren't bought with swords." Kairus glanced back. "They're earned with trust."
The gladiator stared at him, then burst into laughter—a deep, rumbling sound that shook snow from the pines. "Gods, you sound just like him."
Rodrick stood, sheathing his blade. "Duke Tristan had a sister. Lysandra." His voice softened, uncharacteristically somber.
"She could outfight any knight in the realm by seventeen. But when plague took their parents, she threw aside her sword to rule. Said her people needed a steward, not a warrior."
Kairus stilled. This story wasn't in the histories.
"The Duke never forgave her," Rodrick continued. "Called it a waste of talent. But on her deathbed, he finally understood. 'A ruler's strength,' she told him, 'isn't in their blade, but their bonds.'"
The gladiator stepped closer, his shadow swallowing Kairus's. "You're walking her path. But even Lysandra had teachers."
[Persuasion Opportunity: Accepting mentorship could secure Tristan alliance.]
[Warning: Risk of appearing power-hungry to Duke Tristan.]
"I'll train," Kairus said, opening his eyes. "But not as your disciple. As your equal."
Rodrick blinked. "You've got stones, I'll give you that."
"The Tempest style requires a duelist's precision, yes? Let's make a wager. We spar daily. If I master three Tempest forms by month's end, you convince Duke Tristan to hand over one whole knight order to the Varkaine"
The gladiator crossed his arms. "And if you lose?"
"I'll beg the Duke to take me as his Disciple."
Rodrick's laughter echoed through the training grounds. "Deal. But you'll be eating those words with a side of humility."
As Rodrick strode toward the keep, Kairus allowed himself a grim smile. The offer was a feint—a gambit to exploit Duke Tristan's conflicted heart.
[Quest Updated: "Weave the Tristan Thread."]
[Objective: Master 3/3 Tempest forms. Time: 30 days.]
[Reward: Tristan military support. Insight into Tristan-Vasco ties.]
In his first life, the Tristans and Vascos had been unbreakable allies, their bond forged in the fire of Ed Vasco and Duke Tristan's shared campaigns. But cracks had existed—small fissures Kairus now aimed to widen.
A system alert flickered:
[Hidden Objective Discovered: "Sunder Old Bonds."]
[Undermine Tristan-Vasco alliance. Progress: 1%.]
Kairus turned toward the smithy, where Valatium glowed like captive starlight. Somewhere beyond the mountains, Ed Vasco sharpened his knives.
One thread at a time.