Chapter 27: The Duel

"I lost it," he said, opening his eyes.

"That’s normal. Don’t try to force it. Just let the feeling stay with you."

He tried again, this time not reaching so hard.

The warmth came back, easier this time.

He could feel the pressure building behind his ribs, spreading outward.

"Now," she said, "open your eyes. And show me what you can do with it."

He raised his hand and focused on the merging. The pressure built, the wind answered, and he let go.

A gust of wind erupted from his palm. It hit the far wall with enough force to rattle the books on the shelves.

He blinked, staring at his own hand. "I did that?"

"Yes." She smiled, and there was pride in it. "You did that."

She leaned back in her chair, studying him with something that looked like approval.

"You’re a natural," she said. "You feel it. That’s the hardest part. The rest is just practice."

"Practice," he repeated. "Is that all?"

"Practice and patience." She smiled, and there was a glint of something in her eyes. "But for now, let’s focus on one thing: combining both elements in a single strike. You’ll need it in the duel."

She wheeled closer, her expression intent. "But there’s something you need to understand first. Magic isn’t a tool you wield. It’s a conversation. You don’t command the elements. You ask them to work with you."

"Ask them?" He frowned, confused. "But I just—"

"You feel them. You invite them. You listen to what they want to do and you guide them toward your intention."

She reached out, her hand covering his. "Fire wants to burn. It wants to spread, to consume. That’s its nature. The wind wants to move. It wants to push, to flow, to fill the spaces it finds. When you combine them, you’re not controlling them, you’re giving them a common purpose."

"So I’m not commanding them," he said slowly. "I’m... guiding them?"

"Yes." She squeezed his hand. "And that’s why you can do it, Emeric. Because you don’t try to force things. You listen. You feel. You find the balance."

She released his hand and wheeled back a few feet.

"Now. Show me again."

They spent hours practicing. By the end, the study was littered with scorch marks and scattered papers.

But Emeric’s control had grown. He could feel the balance between Fire and Wind.

As the lamp burned low, Isolde wheeled close one final time.

"You’re ready," she said. "Not perfect. But ready."

He covered her hand with his, drawing strength from her touch.

"Thank you," he said. "For teaching me."

"Don’t thank me yet." She smiled, but there was something fierce in her eyes. "Thank me tomorrow. When you win."

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers.

"I will," he said softly. "I promise."

[DEVOTION LOGGED: TEACHING AND LEARNING — MENTORING AND BEING MENTORED]

[NATURE OF DEVOTION: SHARING KNOWLEDGE, BUILDING TRUST, DEEPENING UNDERSTANDING]

[DP AWARDED: +4]

[BOND METER: 66 → 68]

The notification flickered at the edge of his vision. Emeric didn’t read it.

The Study — Just Before Dawn

The lamp had burned low, the wax pooled thick at its base. The sky beyond the window was still dark, but the first hint of grey was beginning to creep across the horizon.

Emeric sat on the floor, his back against the wall, his practice blade resting across his knees. Isolde had wheeled over to sit beside him, close enough that their shoulders were almost touching.

"You should get some sleep," she said.

"It’s already dawn." He didn’t move. "I’m not tired."

She looked at him with a softened expression.

"You’re scared," she said. It wasn’t a question.

"A little," he admitted. "I’m more scared of disappointing you than I am of losing."

She reached out, her hand finding his. "You’re not going to disappoint me. Win or lose, I’m proud of you."

"Promise?" he asked.

"Promise." She squeezed his hand. "You’ve already done more than I ever thought possible. You’ve given me hope, Emeric. That’s more than I ever expected from anyone."

He leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers. "I’m going to win," he said. "For you."

"I know." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I believe in you."

[DEVOTION LOGGED: ACCEPTING GUIDANCE, TRAINING WITH SINCERITY, ALLOWING TARGET TO CONTRIBUTE TO HIS GROWTH]

[NATURE OF DEVOTION: TRUSTING HER WISDOM, VALUING HER KNOWLEDGE, LETTING HER SHAPE HIS STRENGTH]

[DP AWARDED: +5]

The notification appeared at the corner of his vision but he was too engrossed in her kiss.

He needed to have a proper understanding of everything he had gained so far.

It was like time was flowing too fast for him to keep up.

Just a month ago, he was without any magic. Now he was fighting a duel for his wife’s honor.

He had to make his debut.

So that no one would mess with him or Isolde ever again.

***

The mist hung low over the Royal Training Grounds. Pale grey. Clinging to the packed earth like a ghost reluctant to leave.

The stands were already full.

Nobles in their finest morning attire. Servants standing at attention. Guards lining the perimeter. And at the center of it all, the raised dais where Queen Sylvia Magentano sat enthroned. Her expression was obvious. She wore the bored look as though she had better things to do.

Emeric stood at the edge of the arena. Sword in hand.

He had reached out to an old dwarven friend to help him craft a sword last minute.

It was not perfect but it would have to do the job.

Bjorn had been furious with him but ultimately decided to do him the favor.

Emeric let out a tired breath, hi heart pounding a steady rhythm against his ribs.

He looked to the stands.

He found her immediately. Isolde at the edge of the seating. Her chair positioned so she had a clear view of the arena. Deep grey dress. Her hair pulled back and her face a mask of composure.