Robin spent the next morning in preparation. Not physical training, that could wait until night. This required a different kind of readiness.
Mental preparation. Strategic planning. Understanding the board before making his move.
He knew what he needed to do. The question was execution.
Timing matters. So does setting. I need witnesses. Need it to be public enough that the Duke can't simply dismiss me.
Robin dressed carefully. Not his usual shabby servant clothes, but the cleanest outfit he possessed, a simple tunic and trousers that, while worn, were at least presentable.
He needed to look like someone who could plausibly attend the Academy. Not a noble, but not a complete wretch either.
The Duke held court every third day. Today was court day.
Perfect.
Robin made his way through the castle corridors. His heart was steady, breathing controlled. This was just another battlefield. Different weapons, same principles.
The approach to the great hall was guarded. Not heavily, this was the Duke's home, after all but two soldiers stood at attention outside the doors.
Robin walked up to them directly. No hesitation. Confidence was half the battle.
"I need to speak with His Grace," Robin said simply.
The guards looked at him. One raised an eyebrow. "The Duke is holding court. Only those with appointments or urgent business are....."
"It's urgent," Robin interrupted. "And it concerns the Academy announcement."
The guards exchanged glances. One shrugged. "Wait here."
He disappeared inside. Robin waited, keeping his expression calm. Inside, his mind was running scenarios. Probabilities. Outcomes.
The guard will report to a steward. The steward will likely dismiss it. But if I've calculated correctly, the Duke's curiosity will override caution.
The guard returned. His expression was bemused. "His Grace will see you. But watch yourself, boy. You're interrupting important business."
Robin nodded and entered.
The great hall was full. Not as packed as during the announcement, but still substantial. Duke Stark sat in his throne, listening to a bannerman's report about harvest yields. Around the hall stood various nobles, advisors, and petitioners.
Good. Plenty of witnesses.
Robin walked down the center aisle. Slowly. Deliberately. Every eye in the hall tracked his movement.
He could hear the whispers starting.
"Is that the cursed one?"
"What's he doing here?"
"The Duke's third son..."
Robin ignored them. Focused on the Duke's face. Aldric Stark's expression was unreadable, but his eyes narrowed slightly as Robin approached.
The bannerman's report trailed off. Silence fell.
Robin reached the appropriate distance, ten paces from the throne, the formal position for addressing the Duke and stopped.
He didn't bow immediately. Didn't show the deference expected. Instead, he met his father's gaze directly.
For just a moment. Just long enough to establish that this wasn't supplication.
Then he bowed. Properly, but not obsequiously.
"Your Grace," Robin said clearly. His voice carried through the hall. "I request permission to address the court."
The Duke's jaw tightened slightly. "You interrupt proceedings, boy. This had better be important."
"It is, Your Grace. It concerns your recent announcement regarding the Royal Military Academy."
More whispers. The Duke raised a hand, silencing them.
"Speak, then. Quickly."
Robin straightened. Kept his voice steady and clear. "Your Grace, I request permission to take the Academy entrance examination alongside my brother Leo."
The silence was absolute for exactly three seconds.
Then the hall erupted.
Laughter. Not polite chuckles, genuine, raucous laughter. Nobles guffawed. Even some of the guards couldn't suppress smirks.
"Did he say the Academy?"
"The cursed child wants to be a warrior!"
"He can barely walk without stumbling!"
Robin stood perfectly still. Let the laughter wash over him. Let them mock.
Good. Mock me. Underestimate me. It makes what comes next so much sweeter.
The Duke didn't laugh. He stared at Robin with an expression that was part confusion, part irritation, part something else. Curiosity, maybe.
"Silence," the Duke commanded. The hall quieted, though suppressed laughter still rippled through the crowd.
"You wish to attend the Royal Military Academy," the Duke said slowly. Each word measured. "You. The boy who could barely leave his room a month ago. The boy with an F-rank mana core. You wish to train as a warrior."
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Why?"
Robin had prepared for this question. Had practiced the answer.
"Because I don't wish to die uselessly, Father." He used the personal address deliberately. "You gave me life. Mother died protecting me. I owe it to her memory to make something of that life. And if I'm going to survive in this world, I need to learn how to fight."
Truth. Or close enough. The mention of his mother, Lyanna Stark was wise. A reminder of the Duke's broken promise to protect his son.
The Duke's expression hardened. "The Academy is not for the weak. It would kill you."
"Then I'll die trying to become stronger instead of rotting in a forgotten room." Robin's voice was calm. Matter-of-fact. "But I don't believe I'll die, Your Grace. I believe I can pass the entrance exams."
More laughter. Louder this time.
"Impossible," someone muttered.
"Delusional."
The Duke was about to speak probably to dismiss Robin's request when a new voice cut through the noise.
"If he wants to embarrass himself, let him."
Leo. Of course.
Robin's brother pushed through the crowd to stand near the throne. His face was a mask of contempt mixed with cruel amusement.
"Let him take the exams, Father," Leo continued. His voice dripped with condescension. "Let everyone see exactly how pathetic the cursed child truly is. When he fails and he will fail, it will remind the kingdom why House Stark doesn't waste resources on defectives."
Perfect. Taking the bait exactly as expected.
Robin turned to face Leo. Met his brother's sneer with calm neutrality.
"And if I don't fail?" Robin asked quietly.
Leo laughed. "You won't even survive the physical examination. You'll collapse during the first combat trial."
"Then you have nothing to fear from my attempt."
"Fear? From you?" Leo's face reddened. "You think I fear competition from a cripple?"
Robin let the insult hang in the air. Then spoke clearly, ensuring the entire hall could hear.
"I propose a wager, then. Here and now. If you're so certain of my failure."
Leo's eyes gleamed. "What kind of wager?"
"A spar. You and me. This afternoon, in the training yard." Robin kept his voice level. Reasonable. "If I can land a single clean strike on you, just one. Father grants me permission to take the entrance exam."
The hall erupted again. This time not with laughter, but excited murmurs. A challenge. Public. Formal.
Leo looked at Robin like he'd lost his mind. "You want to fight me? I'll break you."
"Maybe. But those are my terms. One clean strike, and I earn the right to attempt the exams." Robin turned back to the Duke. "It's a fair test, Your Grace. If I can't land a single blow on my brother, I clearly have no business at the Academy."
The Duke's expression was unreadable. Robin could see the calculation happening behind those cold eyes.
If he refuses, he looks like he's protecting Leo from his crippled brother. If he accepts, he looks magnanimous. Either way, I've maneuvered him.
Leo made the decision for him. "I accept," he declared loudly. "Gladly. And when I put you in the dirt where you belong, maybe you'll finally learn your place."
The Duke looked between his sons. Robin, calm and composed. Leo, flushed with arrogant confidence.
"Very well," the Duke said slowly. "The spar will take place this afternoon. Blunted weapons. First blood or submission." He pointed at Robin. "But understand this, boy.
When you lose and you will lose you will accept your place. No more delusions. No more requests. You will return to your room and be grateful for the life you have."
"And when I win," Robin said not "if," but "when" you grant me permission to take the entrance exam. On my own merit. No family support. No letter of recommendation. Just the exam itself.
"Agreed." The Duke's voice was hard. "Now leave my sight. You have a few hours to prepare for your humiliation."
Robin bowed properly this time. Turned and walked back down the hall.
The whispers followed him. But they were different now. Not just mockery. There was speculation. Curiosity. Excitement at the prospect of public entertainment.
Robin kept his expression neutral until he was out of the hall. Then, in the privacy of an empty corridor, he allowed himself a small smile.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Leo had accepted immediately. Too arrogant to see the trap. Too confident in his own superiority to question why Robin would propose such a seemingly suicidal challenge.
And the Duke had agreed because refusing would have looked worse than accepting.
Now I just need to win.
Robin made his way back to his room. He had maybe four hours until the spar. Time to rest. Conserve energy. Prepare mentally.
He pulled up his status screen:
┏━━━━━━━[ Host Profile ]━━━━━━━┓
│ Name: Robin Stark
│ Level: 5
│ EXP: 445/500
│
│ Core Attributes:
│ STR Strength 9
│ AGI Agility 7
│ END Endurance 7
│ DEX Dexterity 8
│
│ HP: 62/62
│ Stamina: 45/45
┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛
His stats were solid. Not overwhelming, but competent. And he had something Leo didn't.
Justin's lifetime of combat experience. Twenty years of fighting, encoded into muscle memory. Tactics that wouldn't exist for decades.
Leo is stronger. Probably has better equipment. But strength isn't everything.
Robin lay on his bed. Closed his eyes. Visualized the upcoming fight.
Leo would be overconfident. Would try to end it quickly with overwhelming force. Would expect Robin to be defensive, to run, to cower.
Which means I do the opposite. Aggressive. Controlled aggression. Make him think he's winning until the moment I'm not.
Robin thought about weak points. Leo's footwork was sloppy, he'd observed that during the bullying incident. Right leg dominant. Wide stance. Poor balance.
A sweep. That's the key. Get him off-balance, then strike while he's recovering.
The hours passed. Robin rested, planned, prepared.
Finally, a knock at his door. "Young Master. It's time."
Robin stood. Stretched. His body felt ready. Loose but controlled.
He walked to the training yard where half the castle had gathered.
Time to show them all that the cursed child had teeth.
And those teeth were very, very sharp.