Sleep continued to elude Verde. During the nights, he found himself staring up at the ceiling, his mind filled by his anxieties and fears. A phantom pain occasionally throbbed in his stomach where he was pierced, reminding him of the day he died. On the few instances where he was able to doze off, he was instantly transported back into the battlefield, surrounded by his dead soldiers and starving townsfolk.
The day after the wolf attack, Verde was faced with a simir predicament. Every time he closed his eyes, he could feel the rotted breath of the wolf against his skin, as he y under the animal and looked up at Wulfe’s disdainful gaze. As much as he loathed to admit it, Verde knew that if the knight had not stepped in, he would have likely become the wolf’s next meal.
He swore to himself that he was much more than the Verde that was written in the pages of the novel he saw, the same novel that sat under his bed, its presence another pgue on his mind. He wanted so badly to burn it and think that this was all a bad dream, but caution made him keep it.
Still, it was like the book emanated an ethereal aura that constantly reminded Verde of its existence, despite his best efforts to shove it to the back of his mind and forget about it. Unable to bear the book’s presence, Verde let out a curse to himself and rose from his bed, quickly changing into a simple outfit, donning a cape to protect him from the cold night.
The best cure for an active mind was an exhausted body, and Verde decided to see the extra time granted by his insomnia as an excellent chance to improve his swordsmanship.
The training grounds were located towards the back of the manor, though calling it a training ground was a stretch. It was a partially open area, marked by a cold iron fence that looked into the forest behind Verde’s manor, dotted with a few wooden stakes that served as practice dummies and some wooden swords tucked away in the corner. In his youth, Verde liked to visit with Hugues as they practiced their sparring, however as he grew older he began seeing it as a mere hobby. His schedule became filled with meetings, work, and more meetings, as Verde became consumed by micromanaging every aspect of his territory and sister.
The grounds were usually quiet, as hardly anybody entered. Even Hugues barely visited, too busy with inspections and border patrols. It made it all the more surprising to Verde when he could see a shadow dancing against the pale flickers of a weak fme as he approached, curious as to who would be up at this hour.
He cautiously made his way towards the open door, fingers curling against the frame as he peeked his head in to see who it was.
In the room, standing tall as he pummeled the defenseless training dummy with a wooden sword, was none other than Wulfe. His face was perfectly composed, almost serene, which was in stark contrast to the terrifying blows that emanated from him as he struck the dummy. The sounds echoed off the walls, so loudly that Verde wondered if the practice sword would break in Wulfe’s hands.
As impressive as it was, Verde felt that the sight was too reminiscent of his recent past. He’d experienced all of it first hand, after all. He shrank back, thinking that perhaps he could put off his training for another night.
“I know you’re there.”
Verde froze.
Panicked, he had half a mind to flee, however his pride forced him to stay and dig his heels into the ground. He sucked in a breath and peered over the door again, flinching ever so slightly when he saw a pair of bzing yellow eyes trained on him.
“How could you tell?” Verde asked, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice.
“I could feel you staring behind me,” Wulfe answered simply, his expression unreadable. “It’s not a pleasant feeling, to be watched from the shadows.”
“I came here to use the training grounds.” Verde huffed. To reinforce his point, he picked up a wooden sword as he walked into the room. “Didn’t expect anyone else here.”
“You’re sure you didn’t wander into here by accident? Or is this another poor attempt at spying?”
“Spying? What kind of nonsense are you spouting?”
“Your uncanny accuracy about my history, along with your te night wanderings always ending up near me,” Wulfe stared straight at Verde, eyes piercing through. “You’re telling me that’s all coincidence?”
“Like I said, it is natural for me to do research on my allies,” Verde gred back. “And for the other instances, can’t I simply wander in my own home?”
“I would think myself a poor commander if I fell for excuses as simple as these.”
Irritated, Verde strode up to the knight, his training sword pointed towards Wulfe.
“Don’t give yourself too much credit. If I needed information, I wouldn’t be wasting my time on a brute who solves his problems by beating them to a pulp.”
“At least it’s much more honest than lurking around in the shadows,” Wulfe retorted, flicking Verde’s sword away with ease, as he began to move away.
“Where are you going?”
“Away.”
Incensed, Verde followed after Wulfe before he even had time to process what he was doing, positioning himself in front of the knight and effectively blocking off the exit. He gred up at the knight, refusing to budge.
Wulfe’s eyes flicked towards Verde, the corner of his lip twitching into a snarl.
“What do you want?”
“It seems we both have some trouble sleeping. The most efficient solution would be for us to tire each other out through a practice spar - it’s far more work than hitting a dummy.”
The knight blinked at him, digesting his words, before breaking into a smirk.
“You, against me?”
“Yes, is there a problem?”
“I don’t think there’s much of a challenge in there for me, milord,” Wulfe stated pinly. “I’m afraid you might sprain your wrist if we duel. Maybe you should train with the dummies first, before taking on the real thing.”
At his comment, it was Verde’s turn to smirk.
“Afraid you’ll get shown up?” He asked slyly.
“No, just looking out for your wellbeing,” Wulfe scowled. “Wouldn’t want to get accused of attempted murder if I win.”
He pushed aside Verde’s sword, shouldering past the noble to leave. Verde frowned - was Wulfe that against his presence?
Irritated, he couldn’t help but shout: “I’ve not heard of the famed Sir Alvar forfeiting before a match has even taken pce, especially if a noble is involved - I’m honoured to be the first to cim that achievement.”
Wulfe immediately stopped in his heels, swivelling around to gre at Verde.
“I’ve tried to be courteous, are you asking for a beating?”
“No, I’m asking for a spar.”
Wulfe stared at him, a million different emotions running across his face, before he let out a swear under his breath and began pacing over to the center of the arena, flicking his finger to beckon Verde to follow.
“I’m not responsible for any trips to the medicine bay,” he growled, bracing his sword.
“Rest assured, I don’t pn on it,” Verde scoffed as he followed suit.
He was interrupted when Wulfe immediately lunged at him, the sword barely missing his nose as Verde jerked backwards.
“At least give me some notice!” Verde compined, retreating.
“As if an enemy would shout a warning during battle,” Wulfe retorted as he steadied his gait, eyes lit up as he trained them on his target.
“Maybe if they were chivalrous,” Verde hissed, before leaping forward.
Their swords ccked against each other as the two cshed, each strike so loud that the echoes bounced off the walls.
Wulfe was the same overwhelming force that Verde remembered, the knight’s blows coming in quick succession. Wherever Wulfe struck, Verde felt a white heat spreading around the impact area, as he grimaced in pain.
“You can stop any time,” Wulfe said, tone tinged with mockery. “Wouldn’t want to get any bruises on that fair skin.”
Verde spun away from Wulfe, gring up at the knight. Despite the cold air, Verde could feel his blood running hot from the bout. Strands of silver hair stuck to his temple, sweat beginning to form on his forehead. His breath came quickly, though he stubbornly forced his breathing to steady to not lose face.
“You seem to care a lot for my health,” Verde said tauntingly, as he pointed his sword towards Wulfe and smirked. “I hope it doesn’t mean you’re holding back.”
Wulfe scowled in response, unching a new attack as he surged towards Verde. The noble was prepared now, as he side-stepped out of the way while deflecting the attacks in a nguid movement.
Wulfe continued his advance on Verde while the noble feinted in and spun out of each attack, like a leaf in the wind. As they sparred, Verde began to pick up on Wulfe’s tactics. The knight relied on his overwhelming force, barrelling through obstacles with little regard. He just needed to be one step quicker, weaving in and out of each attack and maintaining the pace of their fight.
“Is dodging the only thing you know?” Wulfe grunted as he swung, irritation evident in his voice.
“You expect me to stay still and get stabbed like a pincushion?” Verde ughed breathlessly. “That mindset won’t win you anythi-”
Verde’s taunting was interrupted when Wulfe hooked a foot around his ankle, causing him to stumble as he moved away. In an instant, Wulfe took advantage of the noble’s temporary loss of bance, pushing him down to the ground. Verde could feel the heavy weight of Wulfe’s leg pressing into his stomach, pinning him to the ground.
Their faces were only inches apart, their breaths hot and ragged from the training. Wulfe loomed over him, giving Verde the oddest sense of deja vu as he stared up at the knight, watching the beads of sweat trail down his jawline and down his neck.
Where their bodies connected, Verde could feel a searing heat emanating from the contact, flowing along his skin like blood. He struggled under the weight as Wulfe braced against him, one hand clutching onto Verde’s wrist and the other stabbing the training sword into the ground, grazing Verde’s face.
“That was unfair,” Verde hissed, gring up at the knight.
“You force me into a fight, yet you compin when I fight,” Wulfe growled, his voice a low rumble. He leaned closer into Verde, strands of bck hair falling to ghost along the noble’s forehead. “Did you get the information you wanted?”
“Again with this nonsense. Is it so hard to believe that I just want to train?”
“Find it hard to believe you train when your skills hardly compare to a squire.”
“The point of training is to improve. Now get off me.”
Wulfe blinked down at him for a moment, observing him, before lifting himself up in one quick motion. He began to stalk off, tossing his training sword to one side as he tossed on a long bck cloak.
Verde scrambled to his feet, his cheeks red and his silver hair pstered to his face. “You’re done already?”
“This is a waste for me. Besides, I believe we have an early morning meeting tomorrow. I hope you won’t be te to it.” Wulfe paused at the exit, before whipping around to look at Verde. “Alliance or not, if I see a Nerea spy in my home, I won’t hesitate to kill them.”
“Naturally,” Verde retorted, tone dripping with sarcasm as he rolled his eyes.
And then Wulfe was gone, disappearing into the dark hallways as Verde heard his footsteps growing fainter and fainter. With the knight out of the way, Verde released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding in.
The knight was proving to be more insufferable than Verde had anticipated. He didn’t realise that he could dislike the man that killed him any more than he already did, yet Wulfe was smashing a new record every day.
