-Roy
After weeks, the clash of metal between my sword and Yuri's echoed across the training ground. His movements were incredibly fast and precise. Each attack forced me to react quickly, each blow testing my endurance. Yuri lunched a powerful attack to my flank; I adjusted my stance and shifted my weight at the perfect time to block it.
Yuri's attacks flowed like water on a flowing river, unexpected yet calculated. I knew that I'm strong, but this is a different level. Fighting with him is not just about strength or speed, it's about reading between the lines and predicting what is coming.
After countering many attacks, I finally found a gap, I advanced toward him and launched a swift counterattack, aiming for his side. But in an instant, he twisted his body and dodged the blow, slapping me lightly in the neck, as if mocking me for even trying. Then, before I could react, he hit my body with a kick, forcing me to stumble backward.
I took a deep breath.
"You've gotten much faster," Yuri said, lowering his sword. "And more accurate."
I pushed back my hair, breathing steadily. "I'm still not fast enough to catch up with you."
He smirked. "Not yet. But you're improving rapidly." He raised his sword again. "At that speed, I'd have to worry about myself when facing you."
Andrew and Crimzo watched from the sidelines.
Andrew crossed his arms and smiled. "That's a rare compliment from Yuri."
Crimzo stretched his arms out, leaning against the wooden railing. "Yes, yes. Roy's improving. But strength isn't everything. I can take him down with a few arrows."
Andrew snorted. "Roy'll cut them down in mid-air before they get close."
Before Crimzo could reply, the sound of approaching hooves interrupted them.
A soldier on a white horse rode in, stopping near us. He dismounted swiftly, raising his hand in a firm salute, then he unrolls a sealed letter.
"The King of Devotion has called Roy and Andrew Celgius to a private meeting. You must go immediately."
There was silence. I exchanged a glance with Andrew.
Andrew frowned. "That's... surprising."
Yuri placed his hand on my shoulder. "Go. I'll take care of things here."
Without another word, we mounted our horses and followed that soldier.
As we left the base, the sun begins to set, casting shadows on the road. Our journey is quiet, and by the time we pass a village, night has fallen, and the roads are lit by lamps.
And finally, after hours, we reached the castle gates.
The castle walls loom high as we pass through the large gates. The air inside carries a slight chill, mixed with the scent of old wood and candle wax. The torches along the stone corridors flicker, casting long shadows.
A servant in a clean but simple uniform stand at attention near the entrance. He gives a respectful bow before speaking.
"The King is expecting you," he says, his voice polite but firm.
Without another word, we follow him through the vast hallways. Guards stand motionless at their posts, their eyes tracking us as we pass. The deeper we go, the quieter everything becomes.
Finally, the servant stops before a large, intricately carved door. He knocks once, then pushes it open.
Inside, the king sits at a long wooden table, his posture relaxed. He is not what I had imagined. He isn't particularly tall, nor does he have the commanding presence of a warrior king. His long white hair flows loosely over his shoulders, and his deep blue cloak hangs around him, giving him a regal but strangely approachable look. Unlike most rulers, he has neither a beard nor a mustache, which makes him seem younger than he really is.
The moment he sees us; a broad smile spreads across his face.
"Roy and Andrew, finally!" he says warmly. "I've been wanting to meet you both for some time now. But you know, after securing Polon, it's been endless work. I'm sure you understand."
Andrew gives a small nod. "It's an honor to meet you, Your Majesty."
The king waves his hand dismissively. "Oh, enough of that. Sit, sit! Make yourselves at home."
His friendly nature is unexpected, especially considering the man standing beside him, Minister Scott. Unlike the king, Scott is serious and has a strict posture, his expression unreadable. His piercing gaze settles on us, silently assessing.
The king motions to a servant, who quickly pours drinks into silver cups before stepping back.
"I wanted to personally thank you," he continues, leaning forward slightly. "That trade with Drayton? Impressive work. And Andrew," he smirks, "You can say that I am... euh? a big fan."
Andrew blinks. "A fan?"
"When I heard about the incident in Valkar, I was impressed," the king says, leaning forward slightly. "Taking on that situation the way you did, it's not something just anyone could handle."
Andrew looks slightly caught off guard, but his usual confidence remains. "I didn't do anything special. I just followed orders."
The king chuckles. "Oh, I doubt that."
There is a brief pause as he takes a sip from his cup, then sets it down with a quiet clink. His expression shifts slightly, becoming more serious.
"But let's get to the reason I called you here." He glances at Scott before turning his gaze back to us. "I've had my eye on you two for a while now. I keep telling Scott that, both of these boys got potentials."
I remain silent, listening carefully.
"Because of that," he continues, "I want to promote you."
Andrew and I exchange a look.
"Promote?" I ask. "In what way, Your Majesty?"
The king leans back, folding his hands together. "Not in rank exactly, but in status. Your team will work directly under my command. Like assassinations, high-risk operations outside the empire, missions that require precision. You know, the kind of work that can change the course of a war."
This isn't just about promotion; it's about stepping into the center of everything.
"I'll also give you a direct line of communication with me," the king goes on. "If you ever need more soldiers, supplies, or anything else, I don't know, you won't have to go through the usual channels. You come straight to me. If I believe it's necessary, I'll approve it."
I glance at Andrew. This is a huge step forward, but it comes with serious risks.
The king studies us for a moment, then smiles. "Now, enough talking."
A servant appears, setting down plates of roasted chicken, fresh bread, and appetizers.
"You both had a long ride," the king says, leaning back in his chair. "Eat. Don't be shy."
Andrew and I exchange a quick glance before nodding. "Thank you, Your Majesty," we say in unison.
As we eat, the king talks about the importance of our new role, though his tone remains light, as if discussing simple politics instead of life-or-death missions.
Once the meal is done, the king stretches his arms with a satisfied sigh. "You'll spend the night in the castle," he says. "My servants will guide you to your rooms."
Then we stood up to leave.
"Rest well, gentlemen," the king says with a smile.