Chapter 20: Iron Among Wolves
The morning air clung to Leon's skin like perspiration before the sun had fully risen above the manor roof. He secured the fabric ties around his forearms, awkwardly adjusting the knot with his fingers. His muscles were still sore from the duel yesterday, yet he said nothing. He didn't complain. The bruises were diminishing evidence that the fat was decreasing. Slowly. But it was happening.
The courtyard was quiet, save for the steady thunk of practice swords against dummies. A line of young nobles had gathered in the southern square, all draped in crisp training uniforms, most of them already armed. House banners fluttered above their heads. Gold and crimson. White and sea-blue. Violet etched in silver. Each sigil meant money. Prestige. Training.
Leon wore plain black.
No one looked at him.
Not yet.
A knight in polished steel strode to the center. His voice cut the air like a drawn blade. "All entrants for the Royal Trial—form two lines. One for official crests. The other for provisional placements."
Leon moved toward the second line. He could feel eyes glancing. Whispers crawling behind his back.
"Isn't that the Thorne wastrel?"
"Thought he vanished after the duel."
"He's still fat."
Leon stared forward.