It was easy to see why they were called the twin lions. They each had long, messy hair like lions' manes, although the prince's was a light, sandy blonde that ended at his shoulders, while the lady's was a deep, blood red that fell all down her back. And there was a fierceness between them, even as they stood at opposite sides of the ring, waiting for the match to begin.

"What I hear, and you know I hear a lot, is that they're technically in basic training," explained Bradley. "But they've both been learning swordplay from the greatest masters ever since they were young. It wouldn't be fair to pit them up against the new recruits, so their version of 'basic training' is just a weekly sparring match. It's good for morale, apparently, although I've never seen it this crowded before. I suppose more people have been hearing about it. Can't keep something like this a secret for long, I suppose. After all, that's the future Emperor, and—"

Frieg wasn't listening. The match had just begun.

The two fighters circled each other for a short time, as if stalking their prey. In a one-on-one duel like this, the opening move was often decisive. It made sense to remain cautious.

Crown Prince Heinrich proved to be the less patient of the two, launching into a straightforward overarm thrust right at his cousin, which she easily blocked. An oddly clumsy opening move for a high-level duel.

Then when Lady Alesia pushed his sword away to launch a counterattack, she put too much force into it, briefly stumbling forward while Prince Heinrich practically danced his way back out of Alesia's range.

It didn't make any sense that they would both make such rookie mistakes... unless the initial attack had been a feint! Heinrich had barely put any energy into his initial swing, expecting Alesia to respond as if to a full-strength attack. What had seemed like hasty impatience on the Prince's part was really a calculated move to lead his cousin into throwing herself off balance.

Prince Heinrich quickly took advantage of Alesia's stumble, dashing back in range with a side thrust.

It seemed like this would be a short match.

Then, at the last possible second, Alesia blocked, putting her full strength behind the block again. This time it worked in her favor, knocking Heinrich a few steps back while she stepped backwards herself, increasing the distance between them so she could safely recover her footing.

As they continued to trade blows, Frieg began to notice patterns in their fighting styles.

Prince Heinrich was clever and light on his feet. Most opponents would have been immediately overwhelmed by his onslaught of unconventional attacks. He fought like he had taken the sword of his ancestors and turned it into a powerful weapon all his own. Metaphorically, of course, they were still wielding wooden swords for the match. But surely such creative genius marked him as a true, worthy heir to the imperial throne?

Lady Alesia, on the other hand, was largely a conventional fighter. A highly skilled one, mind you, but her blows and counter-blows were all straightforward and by-the-book. Remarkably so, in fact. Frieg had never seen anyone with such perfect form. And it was clear that she was stronger than her cousin—her blows landed heavier and in a direct clash it was generally Heinrich who was knocked back, not Alesia.

But that shouldn't have mattered against Heinrich's speed and unpredictability. For this sort of practice match, all someone had to do to win was land a blow. It should have been an easy win for Heinrich. It almost was several times.

Every time it seemed certain that Heinrich was going to land a winning blow, that Alesia wouldn't be able to dodge or block in time, she somehow managed to scrape by. Like she was summoning some sort of deep power from within to give her that final burst of strength or speed that she needed to move just in time.

Frieg had seen something like that before, but only on actual battlefields, with blood and iron in the air, never in a practice setting with no real stakes. In the midst of pitched battle, reality bent just slightly in a way that made the impossible commonplace. In that razor-thin moment between life and death, the body was capable of pushing past its own boundaries in remarkable ways in order to preserve itself.

Lady Alesia sparred with wooden swords like she was fighting for her life.

But despite all that, Frieg could also tell from the fight that they knew each other well, and that they liked each other. They were able to anticipate each other's moves in a way you could never anticipate a stranger, and there was something oddly playful about the whole exercise, despite the intensity of it. Like a competition that would be life-changing to others was nothing but a pastime to them.

"You see it now, don't you?" said Bradley, his voice low so the half-deaf general wouldn't hear. "You think you're a failure? We're all failures! You think I don't regret anything about my life? I used to fight wars. Now I sell tea leaves to silly noblewomen. You and I, you see, we were never heroes. Not really. We're just ordinary people. Those two? Those are heroes. Legends. Those are people the Gods themselves take an interest in. So why feel bad about your life? We never stood a chance."

It was hard not to feel like Bradley had a point. How could someone like Frieg hope to accomplish something great in life when people like that existed in the world?

Slowly, as the match wore on, the balance shifted in Alesia's favor. Alesia's more deliberate movements took less energy than Heinrich's more frantic, aggressive style. Heinrich was starting to slow down. He was sweating. He was losing his advantage.

Alesia advanced on Heinrich, pushing him back towards the edge of the ring, in the direction of the balcony. Heinrich was breathing heavily—a cornered animal. He lashed out, but his swing lacked energy and Alesia easily knocked it aside, so strongly that Heinrich would never recover on time to block the next blow. Alesia had an opening. A true opening. All she had to do was take it. She could win.

From this angle, Frieg could look directly at Alesia's face, so he saw it the moment she made the decision.

She moved a moment too late, giving Heinrich time to recover and counter, knocking the sword right out of Alesia's hand.

A moment later, the match was over.

Frieg just stared as the crowd celebrated the prince's victory.

"Well, that's just how it is, old friend," said Bradley, patting Frieg on the shoulder. "Wasn't it quite the show, though? People like that live in a different world than us, but at least we get to watch from the sidelines, huh? So don't worry so much about it."

"Who usually wins these sparring matches?" asked Frieg.

"What?" said Bradley. "Prince Heinrich, every time. Still pretty exciting to watch, though. Lady Alesia always puts up a good fight."

"But Prince Heinrich always wins?" asked Frieg. "Every time?"

"Yeah, of course," said Bradley. "He's the Crown Prince, she's just his cousin."

Frieg burst out laughing.

"Huh, what? What is it?" asked Bradley.

"Nothing," said Frieg, shaking his head. Before Bradley could press any further, Frieg turned to salute the general. "Thank you for sharing your balcony with us, sir," he said.

"What was that?" said General Gerstleg, who had dozed off slightly during the match. "Ah. What? Yes. Thank you for stopping by, Sergeant Frieg. And, oh, yes, before I forget, congratulations on the retirement, Sergeant."

Frieg smiled.

"Thank you, sir."

Here was a great, respected general whose name would be recorded in the history of the empire, but he was also just a slightly forgetful old man who got cold sometimes and dozed off while watching sparring matches.

Frieg sighed. He was getting old himself, but perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Later on, when Frieg was leaving for real, Bradely tried to convince him to stay in town.

"I could help you find a job," he said. "Or even start your own business. You could never quite keep up with me, but you were never a stupid man. I could even give you some funds to get started. You'd have to start small, but—"

"No thanks," said Frieg, with a smile. "I'll find my own way. I've still got to decide what small town I'm going to go wither away and die in."

They both laughed.

"Suit yourself, then, you stubborn old fool," said Bradley.

"Perhaps I'll see you later then," said Frieg, starting down the steps.

"Wait," siad Bradley, grabbing his sleeve.

Frieg looked back up at him, expectantly, but Bradley seemed to be struggling to speak.

"I... I never thought you'd come to the wedding," said Bradley. "I thought you still hated me, if I'm being honest."

Frieg shrugged. "I didn't have much else going on," he said. "So I just thought, why the hell not? And I never hated you."

"I mainly invited you because I realized I never..." Bradley was still struggling, and for a moment, Frieg saw in him the face of the awkward young soldier he had bunked with all those years ago. "I never said I'm sorry for... You know, all those promised we made, I just—"

Frieg sighed. "Gods, you never know when to let things go, do you? You see, this is why I never liked you."

Bradley laughed and the two of them clasped hands briefly, the gesture of old friends.

"Tell me the truth," said Frieg. "You never really regretted choosing to leave the army, did you?"

"Of course not," said Bradley. "I think about it sometimes, but my family is my life. I wouldn't trade them for anything."

"Of course," said Frieg, with a smile. "I don't regret my choices, either."

It was true that Frieg had never really liked Bradley.

But he had loved him once.

Frieg turned away from his old friend and set off to figure out what to do with the rest of his life.

Frieg told Lady Tamsin parts of this. Surely the young girl off to face her destiny didn't care much about the feelings of an old soldier. What she wanted to hear about was the woman she had set off to marry.

"I never told anyone this," said Frieg. "But I feel it might be important for you to know... Duchess Alesia threw the fight that day. I suspect she was frequently losing on purpose. That's the real reason why the Emperor always won their sparring matches."

"What?" said Tamsin. "She lost on purpose?"

"I can read a fighter's intent in their eyes," said Frieg. "That's why I was able to survive so long as a career soldier."

Frieg threw another log on the fire before continuing.

"I saw a lot of emotion in her eyes at that moment," said Frieg. "Love for her cousin, loyalty to the throne, a strong sense of duty. But also resentment and hurt pride. Those are all very human emotions. I suppose I'm fond of her because of that. Whatever she is, she's not a monster. She's just a person."

Frieg sighed. "It sounds silly, but that realization helped me come to terms with my life after retirement in a lot of ways. Even legendary figures, people seemingly touched by destiny, are really just people, with their own problems and their own feelings. We all just have to live our lives the best we can."

"Hmm," said Tamsin. She pulled her legs up to her chest, staring into the fire.

Poor girl, thought Frieg, using a stick to prod at the fire. "I'm saying there's no need to be so scared. Even the Duchess is just a person. A good person, if my instincts are still any good. I'm sure she'll treat you kindly, marriage or no."

Tamsin was still staring into the heart of the fire, her expression dark and unreadable. Frieg wondered what was going on in her head.

"We should probably get some sleep," said Frieg. "Tomorrow's a big day."

"Yeah, you're right," said Tamsin, with a wan smile. "If I'm very lucky, tomorrow might be my wedding day."