The faint clink of porcelain and the warm aroma of Clara's meticulously brewed tea wrapped the room in an oddly calming ambiance.
The snacks were untouched, save for the slight shift of a pastry on Sylvia's plate. Probably moved by her nervous fingers rather than any intent to eat.
She sat across from me, hands folded on her lap with precision, yet her thumbs fidgeted like they hadn't signed off on the whole 'elegant noble lady' persona.
Her gaze shifted to me. Then down. Then to Clara. Then to the tea. Not a word.
"So," I said, leaning back a little. "Anything you'd like to share, Lady Sylvia?"
She sat straighter than a steel rod now. "Y-Yes, Lord Hugo. I… I mean, regarding the engagement..."
Clara turned slightly to the side, pretending to rearrange something on the nearby cabinet. Her shoulders twitched. She was absolutely holding in a laugh.
Well, atleast Sylvia's struggle was real.
"Please understand," Sylvia pressed on, her voice a mix of diplomacy and dread, "this decision was reached during the meeting. Strategically, it's necessary for the world to believe the engagement has been broken so the Duchy can—"
"Ah, I see," I cut in smoothly. "So you dislike the engagement after all."
She froze. Eyes wide. "No! I-I mean, that's not...of course not,... Lord Hugo, I never—"
I tilted my head. "Mm. Displeased with me then? That's fair. I do have an acquired charm."
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, struggling to assemble a sentence that didn't sound like a confession or a contradiction.
Clara, now facing completely away, let out the faintest cough that sounded suspiciously like a stifled laugh.
"L-Lord Hugo, please," Sylvia said, her voice soft with panic, "it's not about you. It's a method agreed upon to attract potential allies and trading partners. That's all. The engagement isn't truly broken, it's simply being kept discreet."
"Relax," I said, waving a hand. "I'm just messing with you. I know exactly what you meant."
Her shoulders slumped as if someone deflated a very tense balloon. She let out a sigh of relief so honest, I almost felt bad for teasing her. Almost.
She straightened again, returning to the mission at hand.
"Also," She continued. "You've been assigned to mediate the trade talks with the Elvian Kingdom, along with my father and myself. They want you to prepare a list of personnel you intend to take with you before tomorrow night."
"Got it." I nodded. "I'll get that ready by evening. I have a few people in mind."
She gave a small nod, her professional mask sliding back into place. "And I wanted to inform you that Her Grace, Duchess Serena, attended the meeting."
That caught my attention. "She did?"
"Yes," Sylvia said. "She was given the seat beside the Duke and listened quietly to all the discussions."
I studied her. "And what did you think of her?."
I had to ask, I mean why would she mention something so obvious as Duchess attending a high-table meeting?.
She wanted to guage my expression, which meant she felt something out of place with Duchess Serena's behaviour today.
17 year olds and their childish tactics...heh heh.
She blinked, surprised by the sudden informality. "I... Her Grace was composed and graceful. She maintained a neutral expression throughout—"
"Come on, Sylvia." I leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I trusted you to go in my place because I thought we were close enough to speak beyond rehearsed court phrases. Maybe I was wrong?"
That got her. Her lips parted slightly, her eyes widening.
Well, guilt-tripping was an art form. And I painted with flourish.
"I-I apologize. That's not what I meant." Her voice was low, earnest. "Duchess Serena's expression remained neutral for most of the meeting. But... there were moments."
"Moments?" I prompted.
She nodded. "When the Elvian strategy was discussed, she looked... mildly impressed. But when Duke Everard proposed sending you with us as a representative, her expression changed drastically. She kept looking at him, her eyes confused. Almost fixated."
Clara's face twitched, she was no longer laughing.
I fell silent, tapping my finger gently against the table.
So she reacted when it involved me.
Considering fragments of past Hugo's memories, Serena's gestures during breakfast, and Inspect showing her affection stat nearly equal to Everard's, and factoring in the suspiciously low assassination attempts despite the castle being infiltrated for over five years…
Yeah, I get the picture. More or less.
I exhaled softly and looked back at Sylvia. "Thanks for sharing all that. I knew sending you in my place was a good call."
She bowed her head slightly, looking both proud and a little more at ease.
"Lord Hugo, your aura seems a bit different," Sylvia said softly. "Did you have a breakthrough?"
"Yes, just a few minutes ago," I replied, shrugging.
"Congratulations," she said with a warm smile.
A spark flickered in my eyes.
"Lady Sylvia, If you're fine with it, I'd like to request another duel. Just to check how much I've grown."
Sylvia looked up from her cup, blinked once, then calmly set it down. "I believe it would be better if you heeded the physician's advice and took some rest."
I waved it off. "It's fine. I can move just fine now."
Honestly, the pain in my joints had almost vanished. Ever since my mana mastery increased, my body's recovery rate had shot up like it had a booster engine installed. Still hurt when I stretched too hard, but it was at least the kind of pain that made me feel cool. Not dying.
Sylvia studied me for a few seconds, then gave a soft nod. "If that is the case, I would be honored to aid you in evaluating your progress."
.
A little while later, Clara and I made our way to the training grounds.
Sylvia joined us soon after, dressed in her training gear.
Her usual elegant dress was replaced by a dark, fitted tunic and black trousers, made of a cloth that clung a little tighter than needed to her frame.
The slight sheen of the material shimmered as it caught the morning light. Her long silver hair was tied up high into a flowing tail, strands bouncing against her back as she walked.
Despite the simple outfit, or maybe because of it, she looked more breathtaking than usual. The sharpness of a fighter and the grace of a highborn lady in one absurdly perfect combination.
Clara took her place on the sidelines. Her eyes sparkled, but her lips were pressed tight. Trying not to smirk, I bet.
Sylvia and I stood facing each other.
I loosened my shoulders and gripped the wooden sword in my hand. Sylvia, meanwhile, slipped into a posture so flawless it could be a textbook reference. Calm. Composed. Deadly.
Clara raised her hand, then swiftly brought it down.
The match began.
Sylvia lunged forward.
She didn't move...she flowed. Her footwork was so precise that it felt like watching a dance choreographed by a military god. And yet, the moment her sword neared, I saw it.
That same blue thread.
The glowing line that showed the real path of her sword.
I raised my blade and met hers with a loud crack.
It echoed across the grounds.
She blinked, just for a moment, surprised. She had expected me to miss that.
Her follow-up was faster. Much faster. Her blade flicked toward my left flank, but again I blocked. Just barely.
This time, I drew in mana.
Let's juice this up a bit.
The flow of mana surged down my arm as I swung low, aiming for her waist. A basic move, but reinforced by a blast of raw force.
She dodged, gliding out of the way like wind slipping through fingers.
But my balance didn't follow. I'd forgotten to reinforce the rest of my body. My legs buckled under the recoil of my own swing.
'wooh...fuck'
Sylvia slid in immediately, seeing the opening.
Her wooden sword aimed straight for my gut.
I tried to bring my arm around to block it, but it was too far. No time.
Shit.
I braced for the impact.
But then something happened.
My body moved.
Not me.
The body.
It was like my instincts, Hugo's instincts, took over for a second.
It twisted, like it remembered something I didn't. My torso followed the sword's tangent, just enough to narrowly avoid it. My left arm came up, now suddenly close to her face.
Mana surged through it.
I was given the handle again.
I folded my fingers into a sharp fist and drove it toward her cheek.
Sylvia ducked in an instant, her hair whipping past my wrist.
My punch sliced through the air with a vibrating hum.
She didn't pause. From her lowered stance, she kicked out.
A low sweep, aiming for my legs.
Inspect lit up again, showing the arc of her leg's path.
I responded, lifting my leg into the air, narrowly dodging her sweeping strike. And then, I countered.
I channeled mana into my suspended leg and brought it down, stomping at her with my full body weight behind it.
Sylvia, deciding that she couldn't dodge in that posture, raised her sword to block it.
A sharp crack split the air.
Her wooden sword snapped.
The rest of my leg came down, landing on her shoulder.
To her credit, she barely flinched.
Instead, she grabbed my ankle.
"Oh, you're kidding—"
With a twist of her hips, she threw me.
The sky flipped. I was flying.
Okay. So this is how I die. Again.
...I moved as if I knew how to fall. It coiled mid-air, twisted, and slammed my foot downward along the arc of motion. The ground met me, and I kicked off it, launching into a somersault.
I landed on the other side of the field, skidding to a stop, sword digging into the earth to balance me.
I looked up immediately, expecting Sylvia to have closed in the distance.
But Sylvia stood still.
Not moving.
Huh?
Clara stepped forward. She adjusted her monocle, then raised her hand.
"Since Lady Sylvia's sword is broken, and her final move did not disarm or destroy Lord Hugo's weapon, this match is Lord Hugo's victory."
Huh? I won?
Since when did victors fly through the air and skid across the ground like tossed sacks of potatoes?
I was still mentally processing the aerial gymnastics I'd just performed when Sylvia stepped closer, calm and composed as ever, offering me a handshake with a serene smile.
"Congratulations on your victory," she said.
I took her hand, grinning through the ache in my legs. "You realize my leg would've gone missing if that sword was real, right?"
Her expression flickered. "I suppose I didn't factor in the nature of the weapon. That's my fault."
Wait. You didn't factor that in?
...Was she ready to chop my leg off?
I squinted at her. She chuckled lightly, probably catching my expression, and said, "It was a joke."
Sure it was.
Then her gaze turned thoughtful. "Still, your growth is abnormal. I've never seen anyone improve so quickly in so little time."
To an outsider, it probably looked like I managed to hold out for ten minutes against a D+ rank combatant in just one week.
But if it weren't for Inspect, I wouldn't have even seen her first attack coming. Not with my pathetic E+ rank skills. I'd be face-down in the dirt like a proper disappointment.
And that weird feeling I got during the combat...I should talk to Clara about that later.
As we walked back through the corridor, ready to part ways, I turned to her. "Lady Sylvia. You forgot to return my insignia."
Sylvia paused, then gave a small nod. "I realized it was missing while changing into my training attire. I was going to tell you that after the spar."
..........
I froze.
Holy fuck, That was my lifeline around here!
If someone got their hands on it…
I spun to Clara, already on high alert. "Clara, alert the maids and check the area near the High Chamber. Ask the guards—"
Sylvia let out a soft chuckle, cutting me off.
With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she pulled my insignia out from within her robe and held it up.
"This is payback," she said, smiling sweetly. "For toying with me at the table earlier."
I stared at her.
....................
17 year olds and their freaky tactics...huh?