Theria's Instructor — Master Nol's Point Of View

Theria staggered to her feet, her face tight with humiliation. She stormed toward me, breath still ragged from the throw.

“It’s not fair!” she barked. “Nadiel has Mana Sight! The twins and I don’t! That’s why I lost, Master Nol!”

I said nothing for a long moment. Then replied flatly:

“Are you serious? You couldn’t even tell he wasn’t using his eyes?”

She frowned, confused. “Of course he did! That’s how he figured it out!”

I corrected her. “No. He didn’t. He used Veil Skin — Reach Magic. He didn’t rely on sight.”

She froze. “Then why don’t I know about that?”

I explained, calm but firm: “Reach Magic isn’t something you can learn easily. It’s hard. You’d normally need to reach a high level of mastery in your profession before even attempting it.”

“Then how did he do it?”

I answered simply. “Because Nadiel possesses Mana Reach — a natural sensory ability, like Mana Sight. It gives him instinctive access to Reach Magic — no matter his level.”

She was stunned. “He has both...?”

I added, “He had the tools to win easily — but he chose to win brilliantly. That matters.”

But I didn’t let her off the hook. “Now, let’s talk about what you didn’t do: You over-relied on tricks. You let your frustration blind you. You failed to adapt.”

I didn’t coddle her. I never did. That’s why it worked.

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Auren’s Point Of View

That night, our royal bedchambers were quiet — too quiet.

Ardelyn sat before her mirror, not saying a word. I approached from behind, gently took her silver brush, and began rubbing her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “This morning, at breakfast. When Theria attacked you with words… I stayed silent. I failed you. As a husband. As a father.”

A tear fell down her cheek.

“Nadiel shouldn’t have had to step in,” she whispered.

“I know,” I said. “I hesitated... and he didn’t.”

I leaned down and kissed her hair.

“Will my beautiful queen forgive a foolish king?”

She smiled, faintly. “Only if he promises to be less foolish.”

I promised.

Then, softly, she revealed something else.

“A summons came today. From House Serathin. They’re celebrating the Patriarch’s father — the man who raised me. I want to go. A month early, as tradition demands.”

My reaction was immediate. “No.”

She met my eyes. “Please. That man... he was kind to my mother. And to me. I want to honor him.”

I wrestled with it. Rage, fear, pride. But finally — I relented.

“Then go. But I won’t lie — it terrifies me.”

She kissed me. “Thank you.”

And I held her close, praying this wasn’t a mistake.

NADIEL’S POINT OF VIEW (POV)

The morning light, usually a welcome sight in the palace, did little to warm the private lounge where the three princesses sat around a circular marble table. The air was thick with a shared, unspoken dread — their expressions a mixture of frustration and worry.

“Damn it,” Runo muttered, slumping in her chair as she traced the rim of her untouched glass of juice. “I can barely tolerate that place for a single day. Now we have to stay for over a month? This is a truly terrible idea.” She shuddered. “Remember last time? When cousin Valerius ‘accidentally’ spilled that entire decanter of iced wine on your dress, Theria — and then sneered that the color suited ‘you’ better anyway?”

The room fell quiet again, the memory hanging between them like a foul odor. It was Riva — her quiet voice laced with concern — who spoke next, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“I’m worried about Nadiel. This is his first time going there, and with his… attitude… I don’t think it will go well.”

“I know what you mean,” Runo replied. “Nadiel is just different. He isn’t afraid to stand up to anyone. Just the other day, he took on a fully pissed-off Dad by just staring back at him. That was the most outrageous thing I’ve ever seen anyone do. So, to be honest, part of me is scared for him… while the other part is kind of dying to see how he’ll handle them.” A flicker of morbid curiosity gleamed in her eyes.

“What are you saying?” Riva’s gaze shifted to our eldest sister. “Even Theria can’t do anything about them.” She glanced at Theria. “No offense.”

Theria, who had been staring into the polished surface of the table, shook her head, a muscle twitching in her jaw. “None taken. I hate to admit it, but Runo has a point. Nadiel is difficult.” Her expression was one of grudging annoyance, mixed with a hint of something else — anticipation.
“They always mistreat us by bringing up and saying utterly awful things about Mom and her side of the family. But doing that to Nadiel, with the way he is… now that is something worth looking forward to.” A faint, complicated smirk tugged at her lips.

At that moment, the doors to the lounge opened.

I entered, escorted by a single guard. I had been summoned for a family meeting and was surprised to find my sisters already gathered. It was a rare sight, seeing the three of them united around a single topic with such intensity. I dismissed the guard with a nod and took a seat beside Runo, the others spread out around the table’s circumference.

My presence seemed to momentarily break their pact of misery; they straightened up, their expressions shifting.

Runo leaned in immediately. “Hey, Nad. Have you heard the news?”

“What news?” I asked, my gaze sweeping over their troubled faces.

“It seems Mother is taking us to some special occasion in her family’s territory,” Runo explained. “We have to go a month early for it, which means we’ll be stuck there for over a month.”

Theria added, her brow furrowed, “And for some reason, Father isn’t coming. I don’t understand why he’s letting us go with only Mother to accompany us.”

I processed their words, a sense of disconnect growing within me. Their fear felt… juvenile.

“I am aware that Mother’s family treated her poorly before her marriage,” I said calmly. “But what, precisely, is your point? They are mere nobles.”

The three of them turned to me at once, their expressions a mix of shock and pity — as if I were a clueless child unable to grasp danger.

“Kid, we haven’t been there since you were born, so you wouldn’t know,” Theria began.

“So what?” I pressed, unimpressed. Their emotional turmoil seemed illogical.

It was Riva who surprisingly leaned forward, her voice soft and earnest, trying to bridge the gap in my understanding. “Well, you see, Nad… the Serathin are very proud nobles. And with Mom being the daughter of a man who was once their guard, things get… complicated between us.”

“They don’t entirely treat us as visiting royalty,” Theria elaborated, her voice tight with remembered bitterness. “They say and do all manner of hurtful things to remind us of our place. They don’t do it openly, though. They’re only on their best behavior when Father is present. When he’s not, it’s back to the party for them.”

I was taken aback by the sudden shift in their demeanor. A profound sadness clouded their faces — an expression I had never seen on any of them, much less all at once. It was most shocking on Theria, whose pride was usually an impenetrable fortress… and even on Runo, who was often too dense to be affected by such slights.

This wasn’t just about insults.
It was a wound.

Just as I was about to dissect this new information, the grand twin doors at the end of the hall swung open. The King and Queen entered, her hand resting elegantly in the crook of his arm. Behind them walked Master Corrin and Lady Belmira, their expressions as unreadable as ever. Trailing them was a female knight I had never seen before.

We all stood and bowed as our parents approached. After they were seated, the rest of us followed suit. Corrin, Belmira, and the unknown knight remained standing as the guards excused themselves, leaving the family to their council.

The Queen began, her face alight with a genuine, radiant excitement that stood in stark contrast to the mood of her children.

“I know you must have heard! We are going to the Serathin hold to celebrate the birthday of the former Patriarch! He was a father to me, and as is tradition, the immediate family is expected to gather a month early.”

When she finished, the silence was heavy. The joy was hers alone.

Theria looked to the King, her expression pleading.
“Are you truly letting us go? Without you there, things will be… difficult.”

“It’s alright,” her father answered, his tone reassuring. “I may not be physically present, but Corrin will be sent to assist you. If you feel something is wrong, you need only tell him.”

The Queen’s smile faltered as she took in her children’s unhappy faces.
“My dears, I know you do not enjoy going there, so I will not force you. But I only wish for you to be there for the sake of the man who was like my father. I know, at least, that he has always been kind to you, and he would be very glad to see all of you.”

The three sisters exchanged a look — a silent, resigned agreement passed between them.

It was Runo who spoke first. “Grandfather is a very nice old man,” she admitted. “I suppose his birthday is worth going for.”

“Yes,” Theria agreed, straightening her back. “I refuse to miss his special day because of a few insufferable people.”

Riva added a quiet, “I also want to go to his birthday.”

“Alright then,” the King declared, a sense of finality in his voice. “Since it is agreed, you will all leave tomorrow.” His golden eyes then settled on me. “Nadiel, let me introduce you to your personal guard.”

The unfamiliar female knight stepped forward. She was young, perhaps in her early twenties, with a lean, athletic build that spoke of rigorous training. Her dark crimson hair was cut short and practical, brushing against a sharp jawline. Her eyes were a startling shade of amber, focused and intelligent, and a thin, white scar cut vertically through her left eyebrow, giving her an air of someone who had seen real combat. She carried a single longsword at her hip, its hilt wrapped in worn leather.

“This is Veronica,” the King said. “She will not only serve as your guard but also as your sword instructor. I saw you practicing your swordsmanship yesterday and have assigned her to you. She is the youngest talent among the royal knights to have achieved her station.”

Veronica met my gaze for a moment before dropping into a crisp, professional bow.
“Your Highness.”

“Why am I the only one receiving a personal guard?” I asked, eyes still on her.

“It is a minor precaution,” the King replied smoothly. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

A leash, I thought, my expression unchanged. Not a shield. How interesting.
I simply replied, “Okay.”

AUREN’S POINT OF VIEW

Later that evening, the heavy doors of my private study closed, shutting out the rest of the palace. Inside, I sat behind a large oak desk, while Theria occupied the chair opposite me. Corrin and Belmira stood silently near the wall.

“Father,” Theria began, her tone direct. “Did you assign Nadiel a personal guard to keep the Serathin away from him, or to keep him in check? Which is it, exactly?”

I looked at my eldest daughter, a faint, weary smile touching my lips at her perception. “Why not both?”

Theria leaned forward. “She may be an expert swordsman, but she won’t even be enough to do either—not with him, and not against them.”

“Yes, I am aware,” I conceded. “But sending a higher-ranking knight would send the wrong message to our hosts. In fact, even sending a low-ranking one would be seen as an insult. Veronica is the perfect, understated solution.”

"But your primary concern is keeping Nadiel in check, more so than offending the Serathin," Theria stated, her eyes sharp. "You can’t imagine his reaction when they inevitably provoke him, can you?"

A worried expression settled on my face, erasing my smile. “Yes.”

“I did not think Nadiel was so troublesome as to warrant this level of concern, especially from you, Dad,” she murmured, more to herself than to me.

“He is,” I replied, my voice heavy. “Theria, you can be stubborn, but you are far more tolerant than he is. It is the fact that he seems to have no fear of consequences—even the most dire—that makes him so profoundly unsettling.”

Corrin finally spoke, his voice a low baritone. “And we still do not know the true extent of his strength, which makes him unpredictable. His victory over you in the duel, Princess, was not something we knew he was capable of, despite our surveillance. We can only assume he is capable of much more.”

“I know you are all right,” Belmira added gently, “but you speak of him as if he is some kind of villain.”

Theria looked at her aunt. “Tell me, Aunt Bel, if Nadiel is not a villain, then what is he?”

Belmira smiled, a knowing, tired expression in her emerald eyes. “He is a genius,” she said softly. “A genius with a rather troublesome character.”

“Yeah, right,” Theria muttered, leaning back in her chair.

I rose, my movements slow, as if a great weight were upon my shoulders. “Troublesome is an understatement.” I walked towards the window, staring out at the darkening sky. “I am sending my family into a nest of vipers, and yet, the one I am most worried about is the dragon I am sending in with them.” I turned back to face them, my golden eyes filled with a deep, paternal dread. “Pray he does not decide to burn their nest to the ground.”

NADIEL’S POINT OF VIEW

The next morning, the palace courtyard was a scene of organized chaos. Servants loaded trunks into the luggage compartment of the grand, royal carriage, its deep violet exterior polished to a mirror shine and emblazoned with the golden dragon crest of Viradom. A contingent of twenty royal guards, their armor gleaming, stood at attention.

As I descended the main steps, I saw Veronica standing near the carriage door, her posture rigid and her amber eyes scanning the surroundings. She was already on duty. She gave me a sharp, respectful nod as I approached. I returned it with a glance before turning my attention to my parents.

The King was holding my mother’s hands, his voice a low murmur only she could hear. "Be careful, Ardey. Do not let their words provoke you."

She gave him the same radiant, confident smile that had shattered his resolve the night before. "I am a queen, my love. Their words are but whispers in the wind." She leaned in and kissed him—a public display of affection that momentarily silenced the courtyard.

One by one, we boarded the carriage. Theria entered with stoic resignation, Riva with a quiet apprehension that made her seem even smaller, and Runo with a nervous energy that had her fidgeting with the sleeve of her dress. I entered last, taking my seat and observing the scene with detached curiosity. This family, this journey… it was a fascinating, if potentially volatile, experiment.

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