The rhythmic sound of a saber slicing through the air echoed across the training field.
Luca's breath was steady, but sweat clung to his brow and dripped down his neck as he pushed himself, swing after swing. His muscles burned, yet his mind wasn't on the blade—it was elsewhere, drifting toward the upcoming royal ball in the capital.
He grimaced mid-swing. A ballroom full of nobles, politics, and expectations… not exactly my idea of fun.
That's when he heard footsteps approaching.
Vincent appeared, arms crossed over his chest. His silver hair flowing freely, and his gaze, as always, was unreadable.
He stopped a few paces away and spoke in his usual calm tone, "Let's talk for a minute."
Luca blinked in surprise. Vincent wasn't the type to initiate conversations—especially not like this.
