Chapter 66: A Drink.

Ezra felt something stir sharply in his chest when Aurien said his full name like that.

Not casually.

Not as a formality.

But as a statement.

His spine straightened instinctively.

For a brief moment, he felt it.

Excitement.

Real, unfiltered excitement.

Aside from his fight with Guy yesterday, he had not truly tested himself in five years. Not properly. Not in a way that pushed his blood to run hot.

One of the reasons he had agreed to this exercise was exactly that. To stretch his limbs before tomorrow. Before facing the Dark Ones again.

But this?

This was different.

Aurien dismantling three teams alone.

Aurien reshaping the rules in front of everyone.

Aurien said his name like that.

Ezra’s lips curved faintly.

’This is not boring,’ he admitted. ’This is not typical.’

And he liked it.

Aurien clasped his hands lightly behind his back.

“You wish to increase your chances?” he asked evenly. “Then remove the competition yourselves. That is what you should have done from the start. Except now we get to watch. And if that sounds too crude, think of it as… an assessment.”

The word hung in the air.

Assessment.

Of their strength.

Of their instincts.

Of their pride.

Silence followed.

Then—

Movement.

One knight slowly pushed himself up from the ground, jaw clenched.

Another adjusted his grip on his blade.

Eyes began shifting.

Not toward Aurien.

Not toward Ezra.

Toward each other.

The alliance shattered without a single command.

“Hah.”

Guy laughed, rolling his neck once, then twice.

“I can’t fight that logic, Your Highness,” he said, voice almost amused. “Our captain just beat the shit out of me yesterday. I’m not letting that happen again with everyone watching.”

The words carried.

And immediately, eyes snapped toward Ezra.

Wide.

Curious.

Almost alarmed.

“Ezra Belloren beat him?”

“He just returned, didn’t he?”

“So he really is as cruel as people say.”

“Won’t he kill us?”

Ezra resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest, posture relaxed but firm.

’Cruel?’ he thought dryly. ’You have no idea.’

“You’re running out of time,” Ezra said flatly. “Start fighting now, or none of you are getting this flag.”

His gaze swept across them slowly.

“And I will be the least of your worries.”

He was not referring to himself.

He was referring to Aamon.

If Ezra was considered cruel…

Aamon was something else entirely.

Ezra might have grown into his own name, into his own skill, but in his mind he was still just a student.

And Aamon?

Aamon was the standard.

The measure.

The master.

The mention alone was enough.

Tension snapped.

Steel lifted.

Boots shifted.

And then—

It began.

Six teams surged into motion.

Controlled strikes.

Sharp clashes of metal.

Grunts.

Steel met steel.

The sound cracked through the air, sharp and clean, bouncing off the unfinished stone walls of the Spirehold.

Ezra did not move.

His arms remained crossed over his chest, posture relaxed, almost detached.

But his eyes missed nothing.

Team B lunged first.

Aggressive. Driven by wounded pride after being thrown down earlier.

Too eager.

’Overextending,’ Ezra noted inwardly. ’That knight is swinging from the shoulder. He will tire in less than three minutes.’

The prediction barely finished forming when a knight from Team C slipped to the side, avoiding the heavy strike by inches. An elbow drove straight into exposed ribs.

A clean hit.

Good.

Controlled.

’Team C favors tighter movements,’ Ezra observed. ’Efficient. Less pride. More awareness.’

Guy did not rush.

Of course he did not.

He remained half a step behind his front line, watching. Measuring distance. Waiting for someone else to create the opening.

’Still cocky,’ Ezra thought. ’But not reckless.’

That distinction mattered.

Perrin, on the other hand, moved like someone who understood chaos.

While others clashed directly, Perrin slipped through the gaps between them. A quick twist of his wrist and one knight’s weapon clattered to the ground.

He caught the man’s shoulder, redirected his falling weight into another opponent, then shoved them apart before either could recover.

’He does not waste motion,’ Ezra assessed. ’He reads the flow.’

Two members from Dawnward Bloom tried to trap Perrin from either side.

Mistake.

Perrin allowed himself to be driven back a step. Just enough to make them commit.

Then he pivoted.

One knight’s footing slipped on loose gravel. The other stumbled forward into his own teammate’s blade.

Not dramatic.

Not flashy.

Effective.

A blade sliced past another knight’s ear, close enough to shear a strand of hair. Sparks burst as steel scraped against steel.

Team D fought harder now.

Faster.

But sloppier.

’Emotion is guiding them,’ Ezra thought. ’They want redemption more than victory.’

He could almost narrate it like a battlefield report.

Team B left flank weakening.

Team C tightening formation.

Team F conserving stamina.

Team A holding discipline.

A member of Team B attempted a wide sweeping strike to clear space.

Too wide.

Too desperate.

Guy stepped in at the exact moment of imbalance. He blocked smoothly, then drove his shoulder forward, sending the knight crashing onto his back.

Controlled force.

’He learns quickly,’ Ezra admitted.

The clash intensified.

Grunts. Boots scraping against stone. The dull thud of armored bodies colliding.

There was no killing intent.

But there was pride.

So much pride.

Ezra felt his pulse begin to quicken despite himself.

His focus sharpened.

’Left side collapsing,’ he calculated. ’Perrin will intervene in three… two—’

Perrin shifted exactly when expected, sliding across the platform to intercept a flanking strike that would have cornered one of his teammates.

Good anticipation.

’They are adapting,’ Ezra noted, something like approval warming faintly in his chest. ’Not just fighting. Thinking.’

Which, to his quiet surprise, was smart.

Very smart.

A knight from Team C stumbled but did not surrender. Instead, a member from Team A pulled him back before another strike could land.

Ezra’s brows knit slightly.

’They are covering each other now. Even across teams.’

The edges were softening.

Instinct was replacing rivalry.

’Interesting,’ he thought. ’They are learning faster than I expected.’

His fingers twitched.

Just slightly.

’If I step in now, it will end in seconds,’ he admitted to himself.

And that thought thrilled him more than it should have.

He had missed this.

The rhythm.

The calculation.

The clean clarity of watching strength unfold in real time.

His breathing slowed deliberately.

He forced himself to remain still.

He was not part of this.

Not yet.

’I could step in right now,’ he thought. ’Turn the tide in seconds.’

The urge was there. Sharp. Tempting.

But that was not the point.

This was an assessment.

Aurien’s assessment.

A very entertaining one.

A blade struck a stone near the edge of the platform. The impact rang out, and one knight lost his footing. Before he could be fully pinned, he tapped his hand against the ground in surrender.

One down.

Another had his weapon knocked clean from his grip moments later.

Two down.

The platform was thinning.

Ezra’s attention shifted. He was no longer watching for technique alone.

He tracked stamina now.

Breathing patterns.

Foot placement.

Reaction time.

Guy was still steady. His chest rose evenly, shoulders relaxed despite the clash around him.

Perrin too. Focused. Conserving energy between bursts of movement.

Team C had one strong fighter left holding their center.

Team B was fading. Their swings are heavier. Slower.

’Team A and Team F,’ Ezra thought quietly. ’As expected.’

And yet—

Something was changing.

They were not fighting blindly anymore.

They were adjusting.

Covering one another.

Even across teams.

A knight from Team C stepped in to block a strike meant for a member of Team D. Not out of loyalty. Not out of friendship.

Instinct.

Working together without being told.

That was… interesting.

His focus sharpened further.

He barely blinked.

Every clash mapped itself in his mind like pieces shifting across a board. Every opening is calculated. Every mistake is stored away.

Until—

A warm weight settled on his shoulder.

Ezra stiffened before he could stop himself.

He had not heard the Aurien approach.

’When did he move?’

“Are you enjoying it?” Aurien asked quietly.

Ezra did not take his eyes off the fight.

“I am impressed,” he answered honestly.

Below them, Guy and Perrin circled briefly, testing each other’s spacing before both redirected toward a common threat closing in from the side.

“They are adjusting faster than I expected,” Ezra continued, voice calm but intent. “They are not letting pride control them now.”

Aurien hummed softly beside him.

“It is impressive,” he agreed. “They are actually working together.”

Ezra allowed himself the faintest smile.

Aurien’s hand remained on his shoulder for a moment longer before withdrawing.

His gaze stayed on the fight below.

“You remember our wager, don’t you?” Aurien asked lightly.

Ezra did not look at him. His eyes were still following the movement on the platform.

“You never told me who your pick was, Your Highness.” Ezra replied.

Aurien smiled faintly. “Team B and Team C.”

That made Ezra glance at him.

“Why?”

Below them, a member of Team B barely avoided a strike and countered cleanly. Team C shifted formation again, covering an exposed flank.

Aurien nodded toward them subtly.

“My strongest fighters are split between those two teams,” he said calmly. “Rhevan of Team B. You saw his recovery earlier. Clean footwork despite fatigue. And Lydon in Team C. He has not wasted a single strike since this began.”

Ezra’s gaze sharpened as he reassessed.

He replayed the last few exchanges in his mind.

Rhevan had adjusted his stance after that early mistake.

Lydon had conserved stamina well.

Ezra gave a small nod. “They are solid.”

’He has been watching just as closely as I have,’ Ezra realized.

Aurien was not simply stirring chaos.

He was evaluating.

Carefully.

Ezra shifted slightly, eyes returning to the fight. “What is the prize, then?”

Aurien tilted his head. “Do we truly need one?”

Ezra stiffened faintly.

’Shit.’

“I did not mean it like that, Your Highness. My apologies.” he said quickly. “I was simply asking because usually wagers—”

Aurien laughed softly.

The sound was warm. Genuine.

“The winner owes the other a drink,” he decided.

’Huh?’

Ezra blinked. “A drink?”

“Yes.”

Ezra frowned slightly. “You are a prince. You can get a drink anywhere you like.”

Aurien turned to look at him fully this time.

“Why are you already assuming you would be the one buying me a drink?”

Ezra paused.

His lips parted slightly.

’I walked into that,’ he thought.

What was wrong with him right now?

“I did not assume,” he replied, though the faint heat creeping up his neck betrayed him. “I-I just–”

“Perhaps,” he said quietly.

Aurien’s eyes glinted faintly.

“I want to buy you a drink.”

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