CHAPTER 101

  CLIPPING THE GRYPHON'S WINGS

  “Do the Parvians truly believe their artefact will succeed a second time?” Reina paced the chamber, fury crackling in her every step. “We already risked Allynna’s life once. Do they think I won’t uncover a way to detect their stealth?”

  “Calm yourself, my love,” Eleanor said, stepping forward to wrap her in a light embrace. “We caught them this time—and it gave us the chance to test your student. I was there too. I might be the only one capable of blocking that maniac’s assassinations.”

  “So he is genuine, then?” Reina’s voice softened, betraying a fragile hope. Please… let that be true.

  “You want him to be genuine, don’t you?” Eleanor’s voice held no judgment, only truth.

  “Of course I do. Aside from Clandor—at least what it used to be—these lands are the last refuge for elves. But Parv... Parv harbours them too. Did they send the boy?” She faltered, unwilling to believe it.

  “I hate to say it… but I don’t feel right about him, Reina.”

  “I asked you something, Eleanor. Don’t dance around it.”

  “There’s no sign Parv had a hand in this.”

  Hearing the answer she needed, Reina pulled away from his arms. “See? I told you.”

  “You're losing control, Reina. Get a grip on yourself.” Eleanor’s voice trembled with disbelief. He’d never seen his sharp, calculated wife unravel like this. “The danger isn’t over. Dijkstra left on one condition—he honoured Theodred’s judgment. The condition: facing him in the Knight Convention. You know how it works. Anyone can issue a challenge. If it’s accepted, it becomes official. Otherwise, it’s the long road—rank by rank.”

  “So what?” Reina scoffed, as if the matter were trivial. “Then I’ll make him strong enough to fight a ranked knight. We have Bernard. He knows Dijkstra inside and out. It was Bernard who cracked their stealth artefact and gave us the proof.”

  She looked down at the crescent-shaped object lying before her.

  “Initially I wanted Theodred to enter the ranks…under 50 would’ve sufficed, but now—We can finally purge this Parvian cancer from our lands.”

  “Yes. That, at least, is something,” Eleanor agreed, though his tone betrayed unease.

  He could no longer contain the words stirring within him. “If you gave even half the care you show that stranger to your own children… they might’ve known happiness, Reina.”

  “We’ve talked about this,” Reina snapped. “I can’t—I mustn’t. The farther they are from me, the longer they live. If fate starts correcting its course—If the crows start watching our children too… my affection will only bring them misery.”

  “Then what about Theodred? Won’t they come for him too? Are you using him as a decoy?”

  Reina just stood there in silence. There was no answer. Instead, she said, “Invite Arat. It’s time we removed them from our lands.”

  The next day, Hans waited and waited at the training grounds, but Reina didn’t come. He practised sword by himself and sparred with his new stalker, Captain Nym.

  She was hard to read for Hans, especially as Theodred. Her unchanging face, unwavered breath, and her matching strength as his. She was a perfect sparring partner to overcome his walls, but except that she never allowed herself to breathe a word.

  “Nym,” Bernard called out as he approached. “The guests have arrived.” Then to Hans, “You too. The Queen wants you present.”

  “I ain’t a fan of this situation. It feels bad.” Hans muttered, following him. As they entered the hall, he stood by Reina’s seat — and his guts’ warning turned true.

  Before him, seated Arat. Their eyes met.

  “So, you’ve found your wonder boy.” The respect for him that once lingered in Arat’s gaze was gone, replaced by disdain.

  Yikes. This feels awful, Hans thought as he studied the old man across from him—his robes, his insignia, as if he was meeting him for the first time.

  “A Gryphon. Parvian.” He said.

  “Yes. I am Arat Brahm. Prime Minister of the Nation of Knights—Parv.”

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  Hans opened his mouth to respond, then stopped himself. “Teacher,” he turned to Reina, “why am I here?”

  Reina didn’t answer him. She kept her eyes on Arat.

  “Yesterday, my pupil nearly ended up in a grave.” She said.

  “O, a sad affair indeed,” Arat replied coolly. Sipping the Elven tea he hated.

  “Yes, troubling indeed,” Reina echoed. She turned to Hans. “Tell him, Theodred. Who you met? Who abducted you? Who tried to have you killed?”

  Hans had expected this, but since his testimony had no weight, he recounted everything—and as he anticipated, Arat denied it without hesitation.

  Then Reina retrieved something from her dimensional pocket—a palm-sized crescent moon affixed to a circular base. With practiced fingers, she inserted a mana gem—not of any known mana family—and activated it.

  Two shadowed figures behind Arat shimmered into view, their stealth broken.

  Reina scoffed. “Did you forget, Arat? Elves are the most sensitive to mana. Pack your bags and get the hell out of my country.”

  Though exposed, Arat didn’t flinch. “A fascinating device,” he said, eyeing the artefact that had undone the Parvians’ precious stealth—the very same that Xandor once used to massacre the old council with ease. Now, it had failed.

  He met Reina’s burning gaze. “Did anyone actually die? You know Dijkstra. He’s not a loyal hound. He acts on his own curiosity. If no harm was done—what’s the issue? Top-ranked knights don’t always follow the rules.”

  “No, Arat. His curiosity shattered the fragile trust we’d rebuilt. Your right commander stormed our royal palace uninvited. That’s not curiosity—that’s intimidation. If we are to remain allies, as I suggested—pack your bags.”

  “The embassy you allowed us to build was part of our agreement, Queen Reina. We handed over the noose around a highborn family.”

  “And the condition was that you’d respect our traditions. Our laws. You’ve broken them. I won’t live in constant fear for my family—or my people.”

  She paused.

  “If you wish to remain our ally, show sincerity, Prime Minister. Either hand over the culprit—or leave. But since I can’t just ask the pillar of a nation, what I’m asking is more than reasonable.”

  Damn. Hans swallowed hard. All of Arat’s hard work… undone in seconds.

  But in Arat’s mind, he calculated. If giving up Dijkstra meant keeping Hans safe within Parvian influence—or out of it—he could bend.

  “Sure. A week. I can be generous.” She said. “Nym. Escort our guests. They are leaving.”

  Damn it. Hans cursed. He knew what was rolling in Arat’s mind. “I guess. I can’t use the Parvian support anymore. But Arat will never leave Clandor if he thinks I’m here. I need to send a message—make him believe I’ve left these lands. Only then will he follow.”

  After he left, Reina stood amused.

  So it was true someone was watching me. His eyes fell to the untouched memory stone—one they hadn’t even used in the meeting. It still held the recorded conversation between Dijkstra and Theodred.

  She really is a crafty opponent, Hans muttered inside. Then louder: “Teacher… when will you teach me the second skill? I’m ready.”

  “Now’s as good a time as any,” Reina said, exhaling as though a long-held burden had lifted. “It feels like a year-old fishbone just came loose from my throat.” She said, standing.

  She then turned and walked toward the training grounds. “Follow me.”

  As they arrived, Hans noticed her stop.

  The training grounds were already occupied—by none other than her children, sparring under Bernard’s careful instruction.

  Her pause lingered. Her gaze clung to them, watching as they stumbled, recovered, pushed past their limits—or simply swung their swords in the joy of motion.

  Hans saw his chance.

  “Why don’t you join them?” he asked, not expecting an answer. But Reina replied regardless.

  “There is loneliness at the top, disciple. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “So… we wait for them to finish?” He asked.

  “No,” she said sharply. “Clear the field.”

  Her voice carried, reaching the young occupants. One by one, they halted and withdrew.

  Hans sighed. “Now they’ll hate me even more.” He murmured, but Reina caught on.

  “You’re not here to make friends. You’re here to learn. To grow strong enough to become the kind of knight you dream of being. Or have the palace walls dulled your ambition already?”

  “No, teacher. That dream hasn’t changed. But why help me reach it? What’s your ambition? What do you gain by training me?”

  She gave a faint smile. “Didn’t you say it yourself once? That being surpassed by your student is every teacher’s dream? Mine is no different.”

  What kind of nonsense is that? Hans bit back the thought. It didn’t suit his nature to speak so bluntly. Instead, he drew his stance, meeting her gaze.

  “You could just say you don’t want to tell me, teacher. I might not be the sharpest blade in the armoury, but I’m no fool.”

  Reina’s smirk deepened. “Let’s see if that’s true.”

  She stepped closer and gently placed her hand behind his head. A strange buzz prickled at the edge of his senses—and then the world slowed.

  “What is this?” he asked aloud. Even his voice warped, stretched thin, as if time itself had dulled its pace. His vision expanded outward, impossibly far, just like when Delimira had shared her vision with him back when he assassinated the thieves in Edenberg.

  “Zzzzz.” The sensation snapped away the moment Reina withdrew her hand.

  “That was LumenGaze,” she said. “The second skill.”

  “It slows time?” Hans asked, bewildered.

  “No. It sharpens perception. By precisely regulating the aura around your head, you process sight at lightning speed. It lets you track even the fastest foes.”

  So that’s how my SeedBullets failed. The realisation struck him. With that skill, she could dodge anything I throw.

  One mystery, at least, was solved.

  Excitingly, he asked. “How do I learn this?”

  “Very patiently.”