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Should he do it? Just forfeit the match? To admit before the crowd that their prince was too weak to fight back? After everything that had happened to him, he had no pride left, nothing to lose. Maybe it was better to accept his failure and resign himself to his shame. Lying on the ground, he raised his arm, about to surrender, but stopped, thinking back to a conversation he had with Tarnas. It was during the year of training, the two of them sitting around the campfire on an autumn night. Seraph was staring deep into the flames, into the light and warmth, but all he felt inside was cold darkness.

Alexis finally turned to him. “I know. Cyrilo told me every time we had to move the damn things. That big spinning X-shaped one with the restraints was such a pain for me and Lucius to carry up and down the stairs. Cyrilo never seemed satisfied with where we put those things. “No, maybe over there,” she’d kept saying. “Hmmm, maybe we should put it in Lisa’s room.” It was awful.”

After exploiting a gap in her attack, Noah lunged and swung at her, his blade coming within inches of her throat as she backflipped beyond his reach, kicking his sword to try and knock it out of his hand. He succeeded in hanging on and went in for a thrust, but she parried his attack and countered with a diagonal slash, stopped by him catching her blade with the guard of his sword. The two of them went back and forth, launching attacks at each other while struggling to endure the onslaught they were both receiving.