The Black Castle, Agora Institute.
The castle functioned as the headquarters for almost all agencies of defense for the kingdom. The knights, the guards, mercenaries, warriors. There were all necessary for the defense of a country. Or in this case, of several countries. It was situated between the borders of different countries, and served as a neutral zone for summits and treaties.
It had been a natural occurrence to encounter people from different ethnic backgrounds. The headmaster was adamant that it would teach soturis the necessary qualities to ensure peace for mankind.
Agora institute was but a normal annex of the castle. There were vastly different facets for soturis to explore, so people were not expected to stay within the confines of the institute except for academic ventures.
In an almost secluded corner of the castle, the arena was filled with the sounds of swords clashing, the atmosphere thick with tension. Young soturis filled the area, gathering around the large stone platform, screaming and chanting in a fervor at their chosen combatant.
Two men continuously clashed. One moved with smooth elegance, almost effortlessly as if the sword were a part of his limbs, while the other moved with persistent desperation, body soaked in sweat from the heavy swinging of his sword.
"Vyron must be desperate to challenge the instructor, don't you think so?"
Vyron had been the person to move with desperation, his heavy footwork left deep imprints in the stone as a fierce boom resounded from every swing and step he had taken. Meanwhile, the instructor had flawless footwork, evading his moves with minimal movement, as if he could see the minuscule openings of the sword's wide swings, barely dodging without breaking a sweat.
"Let him be, his head had not been screwed properly ever since he had lost to Vihrea." Albright did not think too highly of Vyron, a highborn noble who did not act according to his lineage. He did not think a man who could commit assault against his peer would be befitting the title of marquis from Werdolf.
"The zweihander he holds is simply a waste on him. Scattered and frantic movements, he hardly thinks ahead, wildly swinging the sword at the first sign of an opening. Especially when everyone knows that the Baron specializes in speed." Fleur tilted her head with a sigh.
"This would've been much more fun with Carys," Porte had mumbled, hunched over as he wrapped his arms around the bow he always carried.
Albright did not want to admit that he did not even notice Porte's arrival and closed his eyes. "When did you arrive? As I thought, you are too petite to be noticed. And why have you arrived? You are not a close combatant."
Classes in Agora were simply divided between long, mid, and short range combatants.
Porte did prefer fighting long range, but every now and then he would drop by unnanounced in order to practice a dagger for situations that could put him in danger. He raised a brow and said, "Why so surprised? It's not like this is the first time I dropped by."
Of course, who would be willing to admit that they were easily scared? Not Albright, especially since it went against his image as an imposing man with the axe.
Vihrea did not speak, but wondered if Carys had secluded himself once again to train. He did not seem to tire of such boring regimens and pursued training like it was his only lifeline.
Amidst their chatter, the match had ended as the zweihander fell with a heavy clang in a distance. Vyron panted from exhaustion and bowed his head. He knew that he was no match, but still wanted to see the disparity of their skills. The crushing defeat made him realize he was not close. Not even a little at all.
Baron Kapfem nodded politely as the man stepped down from the platform. He turned to face the crowd and said, "If there is one thing that every soturi knows, it is to never let go of your sword. No matter the circumstance, no matter if you're about to die. Please remember that."
"While Agora is an institute for soturis to learn, I hope that all of you exercise the absolute discipline for the short time that I am here. As I replace Desmon, there will not be much I ask for. This is not like the Academy, there is no strict guideline for passing or failing. But for your time here, I hope to see improvement as I will be choosing candidates for the Tri-tournament in the coming winter."
The crowd broke out in whispers with a mix of complaints and excitement. Soturis in Agora were only able to graduate once they were formally 'knighted' by the headmaster. In other words, one is able to graduate once they are able to be recognized by the headmaster.
Being chosen as a candidate for the tournament would mean recognition from the headmaster. Anticipation welled up as Vyron and the others yearned for the opportunity to be chosen.
"For the next 3 months, we will be sparring. There is no limit to the range, any soturi is welcome to join. It would be helpful for you all to be familiar with weapons you have no knowledge of." The baron swept a look across the students and scoured the crowd with his vitalis.
There were certain talents here and there. But only a few he could feel potential in. He turned his back and said, "Everyone has a fair chance of being picked. That is all, dismissed!"
As the crowd scattered, the baron threw her a meaningful look before turning away to leave. Vihrea furrowed her brows. 'Did he perhaps know something?'
'It would be best to fly under the rader,' she thought as they walked away from the arena. It was tedious enough to be considered one of the best. And she did not like tedious things.
Before they walked out of the arena, a voice called out from behind them. "Vihrea."
Vyron Langston ran up to them with a haggard appearance, his unkempt clothes diminishing his looks. Fleur hated that she could not punch him in the face.
"What do you want?" Albright raised a brow as he crossed his arms. Again, he was not particularly fond of nobles, even more so of Vyron.
The incident three years ago still left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"No need to make a fuss." Vihrea held his shoulder and turned to Vyron. "Surely there isn't anything I can help you with. So what do you want?"
"Would it be possible to train with you?"
Vihrea tilted her head. "You don't train with commoners. Is there a reason you changed your tune? Is Carys not a good enough sparring partner that you need to approach someone you had assaulted?"
"And what makes you think you can train with us? We haven't forgotten what you did to us. That measly apology you made failed to appease our anger." Albright disliked the frivolous attitude of nobles. Where do they get the gall to say such things?
Vyron did not speak to defend himself and instead looked eagerly at Vihrea with a rather hopeful look.
The incident back then had not been entirely his fault, Vihrea admitted that. It was simply a shocking incident that made it hard for them to accept what had happened. And neither side gave the opportunity to explain what had happened.
Not everyone formed a close relationship with each other, but most soturis kept a friendly relationship because they knew the value of connections. It was just an unfortunate incident that formed a rift between them.
She acknowledged her fault in her failure to explain the entire incident, so maybe this was a good chance to settle the issue once and for all.
Vihrea nodded. She asked again, "Why do you think it will make a difference if you train with me?"