Chapter 278: The Duke Ends, The Celebration Follows
In the private courtyard of Astellia Kingdom’s royal castle, the air was filled with the sharp clinks and clashes of metal. Sunlight streamed through the canopy of ancient trees, casting dappled shadows on the cobblestone ground where Princess Anastasia Yelavon Astellia sparred with Prime Minister Lemtian. At nineteen, Anastasia was a vision of grace and power, her blonde hair tied back, her eyes sharp and focused. Her every move was a blend of fluid elegance and lethal precision, a testament to her training and natural talent.
Across from her, Lemtian moved with surprising agility for his age. His graying hair and the lines on his face spoke of many years, but his body defied the passage of time, reacting to each of Anastasia’s attacks with speed and accuracy. The maids watched from a respectful distance, their eyes wide with amazement at the intensity of the bout. Even the royal guards, usually stoic and unmoved, found themselves drawn into the spectacle, their gazes fixed on the sparring pair.
The sound of clashing swords echoed through the courtyard, a rhythmic symphony of offense and defense. Anastasia lunged forward, her blade aimed at Lemtian’s chest, but he parried effortlessly, their swords meeting with a resounding clash. She spun away, her movements a dance of controlled power, and struck again. Lemtian blocked, his counterattack swift and precise. The intensity of their duel grew, each exchange faster and more complex than the last.
Breathing heavily, Lemtian managed to chuckle between parries. "I guess I’m already too old for this," he said, his voice tinged with both humor and exertion.
Anastasia, her cheeks flushed with effort, responded with a bright smile. "Prime Minister Lemtian, you’re far from old if you can still keep up with my movements."
They continued their spar, neither willing to concede. Anastasia’s footwork was impeccable, her strikes calculated and forceful. Lemtian matched her pace, his experience evident in his anticipatory moves and calm demeanor. The duel stretched on, the onlookers holding their breath, waiting for a clear victor to emerge. Yet, neither could gain a definitive upper hand.
Finally, both combatants stepped back, their breaths ragged, sweat glistening on their brows. They lowered their swords, acknowledging the stalemate with mutual respect.
As they took a break for tea, the tension of the sparring match dissolved into a more relaxed atmosphere. They sat at a small table set under a large oak tree, the leaves rustling gently in the breeze. A maid poured tea into delicate porcelain cups, and the aroma of freshly brewed herbs filled the air.
Lemtian took a sip of his tea and leaned back in his chair, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "You fight like a true warrior, Your Highness. Erich must be grateful to have such a capable sister."