Chapter 312: A Ducal Heir’s Battle Cry

Both of my bodies stood on the cobblestone road, leading to the arena entrance. I took a deep, deep breath of fresh air and let out a loud, tired sigh.

The meeting with the prince scrambled my entire schedule. I didn’t get to do any of my warm-up routines thanks to that.

I can’t believe I’m getting myself more involved with his schemes…

I seriously thought that me doing my best in the tournament would be enough to please him. How wrong I was. And how naive of me to even think of that.

During that dreaded tea party, he was being vague the whole time, and he ended his little interruption by saying there was someone he wanted me to meet after my match today, and by that I mean Carine’s match.

Since this was the final day of the tournament, only a total of three matches would take place: the two semi-final matches and the grand finale. Now, the academy could just blitz through the three matches at their normal pace, and we’d be done in about an hour.

But this was the final day, the most hyped day of all; of course, they wouldn’t do that. So, there would be plenty of time between matches dedicated to keeping the hype up amongst the guests high, and to ensure maximum drama and debates on who would win.

I thought I was going to use that extra time to rest, but with the Third Prince here, that plan was dashed and executed right before my eyes with little to no compassion.

At the very least, my match with Ravilenna is coming up soon.

Knowing my rival was waiting for me in that arena, or on her way there, at least, a small smirk touched Carine’s lips, while Feyt grinned openly.

“Lady Carine!” a melodic voice called out.

“Feyt! Heeeeeeey!!” a much louder voice followed right behind it.

I pivoted both bodies, spotting two familiar faces I hadn't crossed paths with in days.

“Mirabelle,” I muttered as Carine.

“Ricent,” I muttered as Feyt.

Despite coming by together, they both made their way towards me in entirely different ways. Mirabelle was doing a hurried but relatively graceful strut forward. Ricent, on the other hand, was just outright sending it, charging headfirst like a bull, only skidding to a halt at the absolute last second.

Nearly executed another Carine’s specialty dodge there.

“Agh!! Feyt! How much have I missed you! It feels like forever!” he groaned, slamming both of his heavy palms down onto my shoulders, nearly driving me down into the cobblestone.

“Ouch,” I said, wincing half out of playing along, and half because my bones kinda rattled a bit. “Good to see you too, Ricent. Did you finally get a day off from your class?”

Before Ricent could bark out a reply, Mirabelle gracefully glided to a halt beside us. With a crisp, loud snap, her crimson silk fan flicked open, concealing the lower half of her face while her eyes leveled a death glare squarely at Ricent.

“Honestly,” she murmured from behind the silk, her voice dripping with refined disdain. “Could you be any more of a brute? Exercise some restraint when you are in the presence of Lady Carine.”

Ricent’s eyes widened as he blinked a few times. “What? I didn’t even touch Carine.”

“That’s not the—!!!” Mirabelle’s eyes twitched in annoyance as she snapped her fan shut. “Naturally, that standard extends to her personal attendant, you oaf! Do you have any concept of personal space?”

Yep. Neither of them had changed in the slightest.

“It’s good to see you, Mirabelle,” I intervened smoothly as Carine, giving her a mild, polite nod.

The murder in Mirabelle’s eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by a radiant, cheerful beam. “Ah, it truly has been far too long, Lady Carine!”

“Indeed,” I responded. “Are you here to watch the tournament?”

“Why, of course!” She snapped her fan open once more, fluttering it below her face. “I was forced to miss the first two days of your glorious battles due to… classes. There is no way I would miss the third! I would sooner set fire to that library if they forced me to sit there again.”

For some reason, I could see an image of her doing just that. Thank god for weekends, huh?

A sudden wave of chatter reached Feyt’s ears and pulled my attention back toward the entrance.

While Mirabelle was casually fantasizing about burning down the library, the crowd outside had more than doubled. More carriages were pulling up by the second, and people were practically shoving each other just to get past the gatekeepers. If we stayed standing in the middle of the path like this, we were going to get mobbed, or worse, stampeded.

"Let us reunite in a more appropriate place," I cut in smoothly as Carine, turning my heel towards the arena entrance, "we should get moving. Lionne should be in there waiting for us."

“Okey doke!” Ricent responded with a big, wide grin.

“Right behind you, Lady Carine,” Mirabelle said with a bow.

“Understood,” I replied as professionally as I could to myself as Feyt.

Once the four of us made it inside, we met Lionne waiting by one of the stairs leading up the spectators' stands.

“Lady Carine, Sir Feyt!” she said as soon as she noticed us, waving her hand. She jogged over. “Oh, Mirabelle and Ricent are finally here too!”

“What sort of friend would I be if I arrived late?” Mirabelle said proudly, fanning her fan. “I, in fact, woke up at the crack of dawn just to ensure I could catch a glimpse of Lady Carine before her match.”

Ricent scratched his chin, tilting his head with genuine confusion. “Wait, really? I thought you were screaming about how you woke up late and—”

Mirabelle snapped her fan shut, her face red as a tomato as she brought it down on the top of Ricent’s head. “Quiet you—!!” she hissed under her breath.

“Ow! What was that for?!” Ricent yelped, clutching his head with both hands.

Before Mirabelle could commit more assault with her fan, Lionne stepped smoothly between them, clapping her hands together.

“Well, I’m glad you two could make it! The whole group will be here then!” Lionne said with a bright smile, completely ignoring Mirabelle, who was sending death glares at Ricent.

Then, Lionne’s gaze slid over to Feyt, and that warm smile turned noticeably stiff.

“You are coming to sit with us, aren't you, Sir Feyt?”

“Uhhh…”

Why do I feel threatened?

“Yes, I don’t see why not.”

She clasped her hands together. “Great!”

"Well then," I changed the topic as Carine. "You all go on ahead and find your seats. I'll be heading down to the prep room."

"Already?" Lionne blinked, looking slightly surprised.

I nodded. "My match is up first, and one of the tournament officials told me yesterday that early access was permitted. I lost some time this morning, so I wanted to get a more proper warm-up in."

"Ah, that makes sense. Better prepared than not, as they say," Lionne said. She spun on her heel toward the other three, clapping her hands like a field commander rounding up recruits. "Alright, you three! Follow me! I pulled a few favors and had some friends hold us front-row seats!"

She truly is a miracle worker.

Lionne led Feyt, Mirabelle and Ricent up the stairs and into our seats. As she mentioned, several of her friends were sitting there, occupying them for us, but as soon as Lionne said the word, they casually walked away.

Because we had arrived so ridiculously early, the seats around us were still surprisingly empty, save for a few other early bird spectators and tournament volunteers walking around.

The quiet didn’t last long, though, as the second we sat down, Mirabelle and Ricent resumed their bickering, this time over how Ricent’s posture was inappropriate, with Ricent fighting back with his obliviousness.

I wonder if they’re like this at mage class too?

I tried my best to tune them out as I focused on my other self, making my own way to the western prep room.

When I opened the door as Carine, the inside was empty. I mean, the lantern, the benches, and the weapon racks were still there, but there was a noticeable lack of one Olivia.

Perfect.

After closing the door behind me, I made my way to an open spot in the center of the room and began some light warm-ups to make up for Prince Julient’s interruption. But as I continued my routine, that tea party kept popping up in my head.

Who in the world did the prince want me to meet after this match? And what could they possibly have to discuss?

More importantly, that speech about someone being "ungrateful" and "squandering their potential" kept echoing in my head. With how infuriatingly vague he was near the end, I was second-guessing myself, but I believed I had a pretty solid hunch about who he was talking about.

Lechter…

He was the only option that made sense.

But while I had my own reasons to keep an eye on him, why would the Third Prince of all people be hyper-fixated on Lechter? Surely someone known as the Scholar Prince had more important matters to attend to than an academy student. But then again, here I stood, Prince Julient’s “Proof”.

But if my hunch was right, how was this person he was telling me to meet related to Lechter at all?

Then, amidst my theory crafting, I stopped myself.

No, no, no. I need to stop.

Why was I obsessing over the prince and his schemes when I had Ravilenna literally waiting on the other side of the arena? This was the fight I had been waiting for. This fight was going to be what it was all about.

I slapped both of Carine’s cheeks with both of my palms.

Scrap everything I had inside my mind. Screw the prince, screw schemes, and screw whatever meeting was waiting for me afterward. Politics could wait. Right now, I needed to get my head in the game. I needed to get hyped.

A battle cry should help. I needed to let this heavy air out of my chest and properly get my head in the game.

So, I planted my boots firmly on the stone floor, squared my shoulders, and pulled my arms back to my sides. Facing straight ahead, I puffed out my chest and drew in a huge breath.

I held it in for one second, and two, and three.

Then, I released the full force of my battle cry.

“Woo.”

Thanks to Carine's naturally calm vocal cords, what was supposed to be a primal, blood-pumping screech came out as a tiny, emotionless breath.

...Well, that was depressing.

Thank god the prep room is empt—

"L-Lady... Carine?"

A small, timid voice squeaked from the doorway.

Slowly, I turned Carine’s neck around.

Standing in the open prep room door was Olivia. Her eyes were wide open with a pure mix of concern and confusion, staring at the ducal heir currently standing in a power pose, whispering woo to an empty room.

Well…

Damn.