The training grounds rang with the sharp clash of swords, the grunts of knights straining against their opponents, and the stern bark of the mentor overseeing their drills. The scent of sweat thickened the air as the sun cast long shadows over the dirt beneath their feet. Every swing, every strike, and every block echoed with discipline and effort.

"Evenhart! What are you doing standing around?" The mentor’s voice cut through the noise like a blade. "Find a partner and spar with the rest!"

Adrian snapped to attention, his pulse quickening. He wasn’t slacking—he had just been surveying the field, weighing his options. His gaze flickered across the others, searching for a sparring partner. Most of them were already locked in combat, their swords ringing out in rhythmic clashes. Others sat slumped on the sidelines, panting heavily from exhaustion, while the unfortunate few found themselves enduring a round of punishments for slacking.

His heart pounded in his chest when his eyes finally landed on you.

For a moment, he hesitated. There had to be someone else—anyone else. Surely another person was available. But luck, it seemed, was not on his side. Or perhaps, it was.

Adrian swallowed, forcing himself to move despite the weight pressing against his chest. His legs felt stiff, and his grip tightened around the hilt of his sword as he took careful steps toward you. His mind screamed at him to act normal, to keep his composure, but the moment he opened his mouth—

"Y-Your H-Highness." The words came out in a stammer, his voice betraying him. Heat crept up his neck as he quickly cleared his throat, inhaling deeply in an attempt to steady himself. He shook his head slightly, as if dispelling his nerves. He had to be confident. Straightening himself, Adrian forced his voice into something more composed. "Your Highness," he said again, this time calmer, though a hint of nervousness still lingered in his tone. "Would you do me the honor of sparring? I-I mean, only if you wish to, of course. I wouldn’t want to impose."