It had been another exhausting day at the Academy. Augustine’s stomach growled, reminding him of the fact that he had forgotten to sneak breakfast from the palace kitchens that morning. Now, as he faced Merritt in the sparring ring, he was fighting both hunger and his friend.
The dull ache of tiredness had already set in, but Augustine pushed it aside, focusing on Merritt’s movements. He was quick—always quick—but Augustine could feel the familiar heaviness in his limbs creeping in.
“Ready to give up once and for all, August?” Merritt asked, his smirk as playful as ever. Their banter had become a staple of their fights, light-hearted words masking the intensity of their sparring. It wasn’t just an early training for them—it was a chance to be boys, play fighting and have fun, all the while they try to forget about their fate.
Augustine chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “Never.”
Merritt lunged, but Augustine anticipated the move, sidestepping at the last second. With a swift pivot, he caused Merritt to stumble past him, barely avoiding a fall.
“Not fair,” Merritt muttered, quickly regaining his balance. “Your legs are longer than mine.”
Augustine grinned. “Sounds like an excuse.”
They continued, exchanging blows with a familiar rhythm. Each strike, block, and counter felt like a conversation—one they had shared for years. Neither of them landed any dangerous or decisive hits, but that was how their training always went when they were alone. They pushed each other hard, but it never felt like either was truly trying to win.
Augustine enjoyed these moments. The banter, the shared silence, the brief moments of playfulness between strikes—it all meant that Merritt valued his company. He wasn’t just a prince or a soldier to Merritt; he was just.. well, Augustine.
But just as they began to relax into the ease of their sparring, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the quiet. The sharp, rhythmic clanking of boots on stone signaled the arrival of others—other trainees, and worse, General Varn.
Augustine stiffened, his muscles tensing as the general’s unmistakable presence loomed over the courtyard. Merritt glanced over his shoulder, his smile fading as the mood shifted.
“Looks like playtime’s over,” Merritt muttered under his breath, his tone lacking its usual light tone. Augustine’s eyes flicked toward the crowd of trainees gathering at the edge of the ring, watching intently as the general’s gaze fell upon them.
“Prince Augustine, Merritt,” General Varn barked, his voice sharp and cold. “Enough games. Let’s see some real fighting. Hold back and you’re cleaning the stables.”
Augustine’s heart sank. Sparring with Merritt had always been their sanctuary—a brief escape from the rigid expectations of the academy. But now, with eyes on them and the general demanding a performance, everything changed.
Merritt shot Augustine a quick glance, his brow furrowing. “Well, here goes nothing,” he said quietly, raising his sword again.
Augustine nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He squared his stance, forcing the tired feeling out of his mind. Now, it wasn’t about playful banter or pushing each other to be better. Now, it was about proving themselves.
Merritt struck first, faster and harder than before. Augustine barely managed to block, the force of the impact sending a jolt through his arms. There was no more holding back. They had to fight for real.
“You’re getting slow, August,” Merritt said, but his voice lacked the teasing edge it had before. The intensity in his eyes told Augustine everything he needed to know. This wasn’t a game anymore.
Augustine gritted his teeth, pushing back with all his strength. “And you’re getting predictable.”
The playful banter had vanished entirely. What had once been a friendly spar between two boys was now a battle for the General’s approval—each fighting for the top..
The clang of steel echoed across the courtyard as they exchanged blows. Each strike was harder, each parry more desperate. The crowd watched in silence, the weight of their gazes pressing down on Augustine’s shoulders. But it was the general’s eyes he felt most. Cold, judging, waiting for a mistake.
Merritt’s footwork was impeccable, but Augustine’s reach gave him an advantage. He spun, using his height to force Merritt back, but his friend countered with a sweeping strike that nearly caught Augustine off guard.
“You’re fighting like you’re holding back,” Merritt hissed through gritted teeth. “Stop worrying about them.”
“I’m not,” Augustine shot back, though he knew it wasn’t true. The pressure was suffocating, but he couldn’t afford to show weakness—not in front of the general.
As the fight intensified, Augustine’s focus sharpened. The exhaustion, the hunger, the fear of failure—all of it faded away. There was only the fight, and Merritt.
And then, just as quickly as it had begun, Merritt landed a hit. A solid blow to Augustine’s side that sent him staggering back, gasping for breath. The crowd murmured, but the general’s expression remained stony.
“Enough,” General Varn commanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Augustine and Merritt froze, both panting, sweat dripping down their faces.
“Next time,” the general said, his eyes narrowing on Augustine, “don’t hesitate.”
With that, he turned on his heel, the trainees following in his wake. The courtyard emptied, leaving Augustine and Merritt alone once more, the weight of the fight lingering in the air between them.
Merritt sheathed his sword, exhaling sharply. “Could’ve warned me you were going to fight like that,” he said, a tired smile tugging at his lips. Augustine chuckled, but felt a pang in his chest. He had failed, he hesitated and let the thought of hurting Merritt get in the way with his fighting.
The thought of cleaning the stables was so far off in his mind as he registers what Merritt had said.
“Please, I was going easy,” Augustine teased, wiping the sweat from his brow. But even as he tried to joke, the general’s words echoed in his mind.
‘Don’t hesitate.’
Before Augustine could dwell on the subject of the fight and stable cleaning any further, another servant appeared, bowing hurriedly.
“Prince Augustine,” the servant said, voice shaking slightly, “your parents have requested your presence immediately…”322Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbZDcJP92NQ
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