On the day of the assessment, everyone arrived early at Viscount Xuefeng's Training Ground. Quite a few noble families had gathered there as well, having come to watch the assessment. Among them were many elderly people and children; they had probably taken today as an outing and social gathering.
"Isn't that Moran? How have you been lately?"
"Ah, it's Shanna! It's been ages." Several noblewomen gathered together and chatted about recent events.
"I just got back from Valley City. The art exhibition there was wonderful, especially a rising painter's work, Red Lotus in Water. The lotus in the painting looked as though it were burning. A master said that his painting had already reached the threshold of professional work, and in time, it would gain the Blazing Sun Aspect."
"Wow, there's such an impressive young painter? I thought you could only find one in White Cliff City."
"That's what makes it so surprising. They say the young painter is only eighteen. What a genius."
"Who knows how many girls at the exhibition were captivated by his paintings? So many were vying to marry him."
"If I were ten years younger, I'd probably be crowding around him too. If I could touch those hands of his that paint, it would be a wonderful memory I'd treasure for the rest of my life."
"Painters like him are even rarer than knights. There probably isn't one in ten years." The others nodded in agreement.
As the noblewomen and the city's young ladies chatted and laughed, the students began entering the Training Ground below one by one.
Today's competition had two rounds. In the first, students would be paired by drawing lots and fight three matches each. Those who won at least two matches would advance to the second round, where they would compete in a tournament to determine the final winner.
There were fifteen students in this cohort, so the competition wouldn't take too long.
"Does Comia have to compete too?" Karen asked, seeing Comia getting ready.
"Yes." Comia picked up her sword and swung it around, getting a feel for it.
"You're really going to compete?" Karen still found it hard to believe. Comia had never taken part in combat training.
"I have my own secret way to win. You'll see in a bit, Karen," Comia said mysteriously.
"All right." Since Comia had said so, Karen didn't try to stop her. She thought Comia was very clever and must have a plan.
What surprised them even more, though, was that Sylutia had come to the Training Ground too. A training sword rested on her lap, over her robe.
"Oh, no way. Tia's competing too?" Now it was Comia's turn to be surprised.
"Mm. Everyone else came, so I can't back out at the last minute." The girl's answer made the two think she must have joined because she didn't want to make an exception for herself.
"Whoever draws Tia will be lucky." They both knew Sylutia never took part in sparring practice, so she could only be there to make up the numbers.
Aside from the three of them, the other students had also begun to arrive. Some were warming up, while others put on protective gear to avoid getting hurt. A few were bold and confident enough to still wear clothes that looked like formal gowns.
Iona stood in the best resting area, usually reserved for distinguished knights. But no knights were competing today, and no one would question her using it.
Her short golden hair was partly tied back with a red ribbon today. She wore a fitted, dark-brown formal jacket with a row of delicate buttons down the front, along with a skirt that allowed her to move freely. The outfit came from the Royal Academy in White Cliff City. Unfortunately, after leaving, she could no longer wear the Academy's badge.
A one-handed sword, its hilt wrapped in gilt, rested at her side. A bird was emblazoned on the scabbard—the family crest of Viscount Callen.
As she glanced over the noblewomen and young ladies scattered across the stands beneath their parasols, Iona felt a sudden wave of annoyance. If this were her family's territory, she would have these noisy people thrown out.
But for now, she could only take a deep breath and suppress her irritation.
Let's get this over with. Once the matches are done, she could go back and take a nice hot bath. Standing here made her feel as though a layer of dust had settled over her.
More than ten minutes later, Viscount Xuefeng stepped onto the platform and briefly introduced the day's assessment. Then he had one of his personal guard knights oversee the competition.
Viscount Xuefeng settled into a cool private box in the stands and watched the matches with Scholar Heide beside him.
"First match: Ray versus Mick!"
Did he have to face someone he knew in the very first match? Mick got to his feet, picked up the blunted broadsword beside him, and walked onto the platform.
Under the blazing sun, the two stood five meters apart, silent for a moment.
It wasn't a fight to the death, of course, but it was still bad luck for two people on good terms to face each other in the very first match.
"Come on, Mick." Ray raised his hammer and held it across his body.
"Heh."
Mick stopped hesitating, gripped his broadsword, and stepped forward. The two began to fight.
He gripped the iron broadsword with both hands. His movements were powerful but left him room to maneuver, keeping him nimble. As the blade swung, Mick shifted his footing, making his attacks harder to predict. His excellent technique drew quiet applause from the knowledgeable spectators.
"Even if we don't know his name, that boy's already a capable warrior."
On the other side, Ray used his formidable strength to swing his hammer with a rush of wind, restricting Mick's lines of attack and forcing him to keep his distance, making it difficult for him to close in.
They had sparred many times and knew each other's fighting styles well, so neither could gain the upper hand for a while.
Their blades occasionally clashed, deflecting the hammer's strikes or merely blocking them for a moment before darting away. Ray's hammer crashed into the platform, sending splintered planks flying.
As the back-and-forth continued, the spectators grew more and more excited. Many began cheering for their chosen fighter or placing bets against each other.
"I bet on the big guy. He's strong without being clumsy—a rare powerhouse. In a low-level fight like this, strength is a huge advantage."
"I'm backing the smaller one. If he keeps his cool, disrupting the big guy and wearing him down, he'll find an opening."
"All right, how about fifty silver?"
"Deal." Two nobles settled their wager in the stands.
Down on the platform, Mick and Ray's fight had reached a fever pitch. The platform was already pocked with craters from Ray's hammer, and Ray had been forced into an unfavorable position. Craters behind and to the side of him made it hard to shift his stance. With nowhere to retreat, he could only launch a direct assault.
Ray anticipated Mick's approach and swept his hammer across to block him.
But Mick had seen it coming. He pushed off hard, narrowly evading Ray's attack, then surged forward from an unexpected angle, coming in on Ray's left, where it was difficult for him to bring his strength to bear.
The broadsword came crashing down, striking the leather armor on Ray's shoulder and kicking up a cloud of dust. Mick quickly pulled back his sword, circled around again, and reached Ray's unguarded back, where he pressed the blade against him.
"Good fight. I concede." Ray planted his hammer on the ground and stopped.
"I got lucky."
Mick lowered his sword too, his chest heaving. It took him a while to recover from the side effects of the Breathing Technique.
"First match goes to Mick!" Applause rang out across the grounds.
The first match had gotten the competition off to a good start, making everyone even more eager for the fights to come.
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