"What’s your name?" Alex asked, his voice even, almost casual, the kind of tone that didn’t match the way the boy in front of him was visibly trying not to shake.
"Scott, Your Highness." The boy straightened slightly, though his hands were still tight around the practice sword’s grip, the knuckles pale where they wrapped the wood.
"I only joined the guard ranks two months ago, so I should probably mention, I’m not, I should say, I’m probably not the best choice if you’re looking for a real challenge tonight, there are far more experienced recruits here who’d give you a proper display, people who’ve actually trained for years instead of months."
"Scott," Alex said again, cutting through the nervous momentum gently, like he was redirecting a conversation rather than dismissing it.
"That’s fine. I asked for you specifically, and I had my reasons for it, even if they’re not reasons I’m going to explain right now."
Theron stepped forward at that, clearing his throat with the particular delicacy of someone about to offer unsolicited advice to royalty and hoping it would be received in the spirit it was intended.
"Your Highness, if I may, for a spar of this nature, perhaps a practice blade would be more suitable than whatever you’ve brought with you," he said, gesturing toward the case Zara was holding.
"We have several appropriate weights available, designed specifically for younger fighters, blunted edges, lighter material, the sort of thing that lets a recruit learn without real risk attached to every mistake."
"I have what I need," Alex said, and turned toward Zara. "Hand it to me."
Zara stepped forward, drew the Viper’s Spine from its case with a kind of theatrical care that drew every eye in the hall toward the weapon, holding it flat across both palms before extending it.
A murmur ran through the gathered recruits the instant they saw it, the strange, compact, segmented design clearly unlike anything they’d trained with before, whispers passing between pairs who’d stopped their own sparring to watch, a few craning their necks for a better look before catching themselves and pretending they hadn’t.
Theron’s eyebrows climbed slightly.
"That’s, well, that’s an unusual choice for a child’s first spar, Your Highness, if you don’t mind me saying so. Most recruits don’t see a weapon like that until they’ve earned the right to handle something with that kind of mechanism."
"It’s not unusual," Alex said.
"It’s mine. Kethros built it for me specifically. I think that settles the question of whether I’m allowed to use it, doesn’t it."
Theron opened his mouth as if to press the point further, then seemed to think better of it, his eyes flicking once to Zara, who offered nothing back but a level, unreadable stare that made it clear she wasn’t going to be the one who talked the prince out of anything tonight.
"As you wish, Your Highness," he said instead, stepping back a half pace, though the careful watchfulness in his posture didn’t ease in the slightest, the tension staying coiled in his shoulders even as his voice smoothed itself back into something professional.
Alex turned to face Scott, took his stance, and let the silence stretch for exactly long enough to make his next point land properly, watching the boy’s shoulders tense under the weight of the pause, the practice sword trembling almost imperceptibly in his grip.
"Don’t hold back," Alex said.
Scott blinked, his sword dipping slightly as the instruction registered.
"Your Highness, I don’t think that would be wise, I mean, if something happened to you because of something I did, I don’t know what would, I don’t even want to think about what would happen to me afterward, and I don’t think you should either, with respect."
"I already spoke to my parents about training like this," Alex said, the lie arriving smooth and unhurried, delivered with the same flat confidence he’d use for something true, no hesitation anywhere in his voice to give it away.
"They approved it. If you hold back and I get hurt because you weren’t taking this seriously, that’s a worse outcome for both of us than if you actually fight me properly the way you would any other opponent."
Beside him, Zara’s expression didn’t shift at all, which was, Alex knew, exactly how she looked when she’d caught a lie and decided not to interfere with it, her face arranged into careful neutrality, the kind that gave nothing away to anyone who didn’t already know her well enough to read the absence of a reaction as a reaction in itself.
She was close enough to step in if anything went genuinely wrong, and with Theron standing right there as well, the actual risk was about as low as it could get for what he was about to do.
Scott looked between Alex and Theron, clearly searching for permission or objection from the instructor, his eyes flicking back and forth like he was hoping someone would step in and make this decision for him, and finding neither, settled into a stance that was technically correct but carried none of the confidence the position was supposed to convey, his weight sitting a fraction too far back, ready to retreat rather than press forward.
"Begin when ready," Theron said, stepping back to give them room, though his eyes stayed fixed on Alex with an attention that suggested he hadn’t fully relaxed into the idea that this was harmless, his whole body angled slightly forward like he was already prepared to intervene.
Alex felt the warmth of his Aspect settle through him, already active, already running on the small reserve of mana he’d recovered, and let his focus narrow until Scott was the only thing in the room that mattered, the lanterns and the watching recruits and Theron’s tense stance all fading to the edges of his attention, the hall shrinking down to the small, precise distance between himself and the boy across from him.
Theron raised a hand.
"Start."
The word hung in the air for only a fraction of a second before everything in the hall changed shape around it, the easy, instructional atmosphere from a few minutes ago gone as completely as if it had never existed at all.