Knight training had started after breakfast.
Quill's calm, phlegmatic voice echoed across the yard as he lectured. "Sword drills will soon come to an end. You'll move on to verbal training—learning how a true knight thinks, speaks, and acts. When that day comes, you might find yourselves missing this part."
The training followed a familiar routine: puppets first, then sparring with partners, and finally, Quill circling like a hawk, pointing out every flaw.
Emily and Nicolas were practicing with steel blades. Nicolas swung, then smirked mid-swing. "Hey. Long time, no talk."
"We're always together," Emily replied, eyes glued to his footwork. "How haven't we talked?"
"I meant, like... one-on-one. Never mind. Are we heading to Black Road today?"
Nicolas feinted, but stayed on the defensive. Emily pressed forward, her movements sharp and deliberate.
"I don't know," she said curtly." Maybe. Everything I've learned here... feels pointless sometimes. But doing something for the Mountain Killers, for the Dark Council... I'm torn."
Suddenly, she stepped in—fast. Her blade struck Nicolas square in the chest. He stumbled back, too slow to react.
"Damn—" Nicolas arched away, but Emily was relentless.
Just then, Alex sprang in from behind, grabbing Nicolas and trying to intercept with his own sword, angled defensively. It wasn't enough.
Emily's footwork was too quick, her pressure unyielding. Alex faltered, forced to drop his guard—and his sword.
Quill's sword flashed in the sunlight, a silver blur slicing through the air.
CLANG.
Emily's blade snapped in two.
"We're not here to kill each other," Quill said, already sheathing his weapon. "Everyone's here to learn."
He turned without another word and walked off to check on the other students.
Emily stared at the broken tip of her sword, then slid it back into its sheath in silence.
The unspoken order between them remained:
Alex, One. Emily, Two. Nicolas, Three. Harry, Four.
The sun was low now, its light stretched long over the practice field. The four sat in the dust, chatting idly. But Alex's mind was elsewhere.
He was thinking about ditching Harry—and maybe even Nicolas. Traveling with Emily seemed easier. Still, Nicolas being the king's son had its advantages.
Alex stood suddenly. "Harry. Commander Quill picked me, Nicolas, and Emily for patrol. We've gotta move."
Emily and Nicolas exchanged a look. They understood.
The three packed up quickly and followed Alex. Harry blinked, skeptical.
Commander Quill never mentioned patrol... he thought. Did something happen yesterday while I was away?
Without a word, he followed them toward the outer gate, trying to keep a low profile.
He watched them pass through the city's edge. Then he stepped through as well, into the Black Road district.
That's when he saw it—Nicolas, Alex, and Emily speaking to strangers.
Then came the blur.
A figure in a black hood launched toward him—daggers flashing.
Ronan.
He'd seen Harry watching. And now he was closing the distance in an instant.
Time slowed.
Nicolas's eyes went wide. "No—!!"
Emily froze in place, paralyzed.
Alex didn't flinch. He simply whispered:
"Hughes Generation Variant."