Equals
Fate stopped mid-motion and looked at her properly.
She was at least two years older — old enough to be considered a full adult under Gate Kingdom law. He could tell she carried her own reasons for training this hard, even if she hadn’t said what they were.
“Why would you waste your time on someone like me?”
She opened her mouth to answer, then paused, caught by his eyes. Not the colour — hers were pale green, his a much deeper emerald, dark enough to still make out in shadow — but what lived behind them.
That same stubborn, unshakable will to keep going. To never stop climbing. And underneath it, a confidence that ran even deeper than her own. He didn’t just hope to grow strong. He knew he would.
She recognized it instantly, because she’d seen the exact same thing in a mirror every single day for three years running.
The same fire. The same refusal to quit.
I can’t lie to him, she thought. It would be like lying to myself. And I promised myself I’d never do that again.
Sari took a step back, turning her gaze toward the spot where she always trained, and went quiet for a long moment. Fate didn’t push. He waited, patient, until — five minutes later — she finally spoke.
“In my case, I had plenty of people offering to help. Too many, honestly. Every one of them had their own angle, their own reasons. By the time I figured out even my closest friends were only around for what they could get out of me, I felt so betrayed I swore I’d never let anyone help me with anything, ever again.”
Fate sighed, something like disappointment crossing his face. “Everyone’s got a reason for doing what they do. Even you — you’ve got a selfish reason for wanting to help me too. Doesn’t mean you should judge people just because their reason isn’t you. Honestly, expecting the whole world to love you with nothing expected in return? That’s more selfish than helping someone because you want something out of it.”
Sari turned toward him, clear surprise flashing across her face. No words came. After a moment, she simply turned and walked away.
Fate wondered if he’d done something wrong. Training was the girl’s own pursuit to begin with, and now, because of their conversation, she’d missed two days of it.
He debated whether to let it go or find her and apologize.
On the third day, she appeared, looking a little sheepish, morning mist still clinging to the treeline behind her.
“Sorry that I left like that,” she said. “What you said gave me a lot to think about.”
Fate just nodded, unsure how to respond, which somehow made her a little more uncomfortable.
So Fate walked over and handed her his practice sword, the worn grip still warm from his hand.
“I’d like to take you up on that offer, if you don’t mind,” he said.
She took a breath, as if to say something, but finally just nodded and moved into a stance. Fate mimicked her, and then they began to spar.
From then on, Fate trained every day for more than ten hours without stopping. He was still nowhere near her level, but now, at last, he had someone who could correct his mistakes and guide him.
“No wonder the teachers gave up on you,” Sari said. “You’re really clumsy, and your reaction time is slow. If you really want to be a knight, focus on the basics — speed, stamina, strength, balance — before you start playing with swords.”
Fate thought to himself, If she thinks I’m slow and clumsy now, what would she have said last week, when I’d just started? She probably would have laughed at me.
He sat down to rest, dust and sweat streaked across his forearms.
“You regenerate quite fast, even for this late at night,” Sari said. “How do you do it?”
“Sorry, I don’t give my secrets to strangers whose names I don’t even know.”
Sari seemed surprised by his boldness. “You can call me Sari,” she said. “And you — what’s your name?”
“Fate Cien.”
Sari looked at him, as if expecting some sort of reaction, seemed about to say something more. He ignored it and resumed his training.
“How can you regenerate so fast?” she finally gave up and asked.
“Sorry, I don’t give my secrets to acquaintances I know only by name.”
Sari smiled bitterly as Fate continued his routine. “Then who would you give your secrets to?”
Fate stopped training and looked into her eyes for a moment. Then he smiled.
“To my wife, or a lover. I’m not sure I could entrust it to a simple friend. Are you interested in either position?”
Sari stared at Fate, mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an apple inside.
Hell, so many men try to win my favour without success, she thought, and he manages to make me consider it, if only for a second.
Sari started laughing. “Nice try, but no thanks,” she said. “It’s an interesting talent, though — not one I’ve heard of often. I know of two people who can achieve a similar regeneration speed.”
Then she thought, without saying it aloud: Of course, both of them are far stronger than him. They’re masters of their arts.
Fate shrugged, as if to say oh well, and returned to his training, which Sari found annoying for some reason.
Not long after, a blue drake landed in the clearing, wings folding with a heavy, leathery snap.
Fate looked up, surprised. When Sari jumped down from its back, he suspected it was payback for the day before.
“That’s your familiar?” he said. “I must say, that’s amazing.”
Sari looked at him with pride on her face. “This is Shafir. I thought you’d like to see a familiar close to your own summoning date. If I’m not mistaken, the second years have their summoning day next week.”
Fate nodded and looked toward Shafir.
“Careful, she’s dangerous,” Sari said.
Fate ignored the warning. He reached out and touched the drake’s head. A small pulse of green energy passed from his hand into the creature, and Shafir’s eyes widened, leaning into the touch.
“Sorry, girl, I’m short myself,” he said to the drake. “Maybe one day, when we know each other better.”
Sari stared in disbelief. Shafir was proud enough that she insisted on being fed by Sari and no one else — the last person who’d tried to feed her had spent three weeks in the hospital wing. And yet here she was, acting like they were already best friends with a boy she’d just met.
“How did you do that?” Sari asked, moving closer, giving Shafir a look that said traitor.
Fate turned and smiled. “I have an understanding with the beast that runs deeper than most people manage.”
He turned back to Shafir and whispered something in her ear. The drake roared lightly and flew out of the clearing, under Sari’s astonished gaze.
“Impossible,” she said. “Only a master should be able to command a familiar.”
“Command?” Fate looked at her, puzzled. “I asked her for some food. It’s not like I ordered her around. A polite favour, between equals.”
Fate didn’t realize the word equals amazed Sari more than anything else he’d done. She forced herself to look unbothered, but inside, there was a storm.
Equals, with a noble drake — who puts other people in the same category as bugs. There’s something profoundly strange about this boy, she thought.
Before Sari could finish her training, Shafir landed in the clearing again, a boar clutched in her razor-sharp claws. Sari startled — the animal was somehow still alive.
She knew she could ask Shafir to hunt for her, but she wasn’t sure the drake would keep the prey alive even for her — the final killing blow mattered greatly in the world of beasts. That Shafir had spared it for Fate showed a level of respect Sari had never seen her familiar extend to anyone.
She was about to ask Fate how he’d done it, but one look at his face stopped her.
The person before her looked like Fate. She could have sworn it wasn’t him.
Fate bowed lightly to Shafir, who returned the bow and stepped back from the boar, which could not move, its bones shattered. Fate drew his sword and stabbed the animal, driving it toward its heart but stopping just short.
He withdrew the blade, reached his hand into the wound, and grasped the still-beating heart.
It slowed. And slowed. Until it finally stopped.
When the animal died, Shafir roared softly in acknowledgment of the kill. Fate grinned faintly — the boar had given him more life force than hundreds of fish and thousands of plants combined.
With that done, he began cutting it into pieces, blood pooling dark in the dirt. Once he’d taken enough for himself, he bowed again to Shafir, who returned the gesture and began devouring the rest of the boar.
Fate turned to Sari. “Some bacon for breakfast?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He began cutting the meat and setting it over a fire, the smell of blood and smoke curling together in the morning air.
“What was that? Some kind of ritual?” Sari asked.
“You could say that.”
“And how does Shafir bring you live prey? I’ve never heard of a drake hunting without killing. Is it a hunter’s gift?”
“Drakes tend to do that for those they hold in great respect.”
Sari watched him strangely. “How did you earn that kind of respect in two minutes of meeting her?”
Fate grinned sheepishly. “It’s an animal thing,” he said, with a perfectly straight face.
She knew that was as much explanation as she’d get.
Later, during their sparring, Sari moved at nearly twice her usual speed. Fate blocked the blow, having predicted the angle and timing. Even as he readied his blade for a counter, she stepped back and tried to strike from another direction.
Fate was ready. He pushed forward, attacking before she could reset her stance, forcing her onto the defensive. He ran a rehearsed series of strikes in quick succession, driving her back several metres.
But his advance didn’t last. As his sequence ended, Sari stepped inside his guard and delivered a heavy blow to his stomach with the hilt of her sword.
“Not bad,” she said, “but you need to remember to break up your sequences and skip a move now and then, or they’ll become easy to predict.”
“Sorry — how am I supposed to do that?” Fate asked, getting up slowly. “Once I start a series, it’s hard to interrupt it partway through. My muscles are used to running the whole thing. Once I begin, I finish, no matter what.”
Sari shook her head lightly. “That could be a real problem. If someone watches you fight even once, they’ll remember your combinations and predict your next move easily. Try mixing them up during your sword routine — do five moves from one sequence, then jump to a different series after the fourth move, that sort of thing. Normally you wouldn’t end a set like that.”
She paused, considering. “It’s understandable, though — your training routine involves a lot more repetition than sparring with me, so there are bound to be gaps. Still, your progress over the last few weeks has been remarkable. Honestly, I didn’t expect it.”
Fate grinned. “At last, I’ve managed to make you sweat a little while sparring with me.”
Sari shook her head, smiling. “My family’s annual swimming ritual is in three days. Don’t tell me you’re not planning to attend.”
After a moment, she added, “Actually, Fate, I need to go back to school tomorrow. It’s the twenty-eighth day since I first started. If I don’t show up, my brother will make one of his three wishes in my name.”
Fate looked at her strangely. “Why would you let him do that?”
“My family’s noble, but not particularly wealthy,” she answered. “Between the two of us — me and Asin — only two tuitions were ever paid for, and I can’t expect more than that.”
Fate looked confused. “That’s still not a good reason to let him take your tuition fee.”
“You’ve obviously never had siblings,” Fate said. “They always think whatever you have should belong to them — especially the older ones. To them, you’re just one big inconvenience.”
Sari looked at him in disbelief, unable to imagine a brother stealing another’s future so casually. But Fate spoke as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
She sighed. “So this is the last time we’ll train together?”
Fate looked surprised, then frowned. “You’re right. You’ve helped me more than enough — I should be able to manage on my own from here. Besides, I think I need some proper combat experience rather than more drills. Good idea, Sari — you should join a team and try a low-level dungeon, get some more experience yourself.”
She seemed to want to say something else. No matter how long Fate waited, nothing came.
He sighed and stepped closer before she could react.
The thirteen-year-old boy took her into his arms and kissed her lightly on the lips, then pulled away before she could fully register what had happened.
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