The elderly man's gaze swept over the gathered nobles before settling on Lord Terras. His weathered face revealed nothing, but his eyes held a cold intensity that made several onlookers step back.
"Who I am is irrelevant," he replied, his voice carrying the unmistakable authority of someone accustomed to command. "What matters is the honor of a wager made before witnesses."
Terras's face reddened further. "This doesn't concern you, stranger."
"Perhaps not," the old man agreed with a slight nod. "But it seems to me that this dispute has a simple solution." His eyes flicked briefly to Grim, then to Verin Terras. "If a man has a problem with a child, let a child solve it. Children's quarrels should be settled by children, shouldn't they?"
A murmur ran through the crowd as the implication became clear.
"You suggest a duel?" Rowan asked, studying the old man with a mixture of suspicion and something else. A flicker of recognition quickly suppressed.
"I suggest nothing," the elderly man replied. "I merely observe that young Lord Ambrose and the Terras boy seem eager to test each other's mettle. Why not allow them the opportunity?"
[Interesting,] the voice in Grim's head commented. [Your grandfather always did have a flair for the dramatic.]
Grim almost tripped over his own feet. "My what?" he thought back.
[Focus,] the voice warned. [This is not the time for explanations.]
Lord Terras looked between his son and Grim, calculation evident in his eyes. Verin was nearly three times Grim's age, with years more training and physical development.
"A duel," Terras repeated slowly, beginning to smile. "Yes, that could settle the matter honorably. My son Verin against the Ambrose boy."
"Grim is five years old," Rowan protested.
"And supposedly talented enough to warrant the Empress's personal attention," Terras countered. "Surely he can handle a friendly contest?"
The crowd around them had grown, nobles pressing closer to witness the unfolding drama. Grim noticed that even some of the foreign dignitaries had joined the onlookers.
"I accept," Grim said before his father could object further. "A duel with Verin Terras."
"Grim...." Rowan began, but was interrupted by new arrivals pushing through the crowd.
General Yongrun and Archmage Dongmei approached, their presence creating an immediate bubble of space as nobles hastily moved aside.
"A duel between young talents?" General Yongrun's voice rumbled from beneath his hood. "The Heavenly Dao Sect would be honored to witness such an event."
Archmage Dongmei nodded, her cold beauty intimidating in its perfection. "We find such displays... educational. The Celetis Empire's next generation of cultivators should prove interesting to observe."
The presence of such high-ranking foreign representatives transformed the private dispute into a matter of imperial prestige. If Grim lost badly now, it would reflect poorly not just on House Ambrose but on the empire itself.
Lord Terras looked momentarily uncertain, clearly not having anticipated the attention of such powerful figures. But the trap was already set. He couldn't back down without losing face.
"The imperial gardens have a suitable clearing," Lady Renara suggested helpfully. "Private enough for decorum, yet spacious enough for a proper demonstration of skill."
"This is highly irregular," Rowan protested, though his objection sounded increasingly futile as momentum gathered.
"Come now, Lord Ambrose," the elderly man said, a hint of challenge in his voice. "Surely you don't doubt your son's abilities? You've trained him yourself, haven't you?"
Rowan's eyes narrowed at the implied criticism. "My concerns are for propriety, not my son's abilities."
"Then there should be no objection," the old man concluded with a small, knowing smile. He turned to the Terras boy. "Unless, of course, young Verin fears to test himself against a child half his size?"
Pride and anger flashed across Verin's face. "I fear nothing, least of all him."
"Then it's settled," General Yongrun declared, as if the matter had been decided all along. "We shall adjourn to the gardens."
As the gathering began to move, forming an impromptu procession toward the imperial gardens, Grim found himself walking beside the elderly man. Up close, he could see the scar on the man's face more clearly—a thin line that ran from temple to jaw, old but still visible.
"If this is to be a proper duel," the old man said, loud enough for those nearby to hear, "real weapons should be used. Training swords lack... consequences."
"Real weapons?" Rowan objected immediately. "Absolutely not. This is a demonstration, not a death match."
"Of course," the elderly man agreed smoothly. "But what value is there in testing wooden sticks against each other? Real swords need not draw blood to prove superior skill."
Verin Terras nodded eagerly. "I've been training with my father's old cavalry saber for a year now."
All eyes turned to Grim, waiting for his response. The pressure of expectation weighed heavy in the air.
[This is a test,] the voice advised. [Not just of your skill, but your nerve. Your grandfather is watching to see what you're made of.]
"I'm fine with real weapons," Grim said confidently, despite never having held anything but a practice sword in his life. "Though I don't have one with me."
"That can be arranged," the elderly man said with the barest hint of a smile. "You can use my blade."
As they exited the ballroom into the cool night air, Grim realized how quickly events had spiraled beyond his control. What had begun as a simple attempt to collect on a wager had somehow transformed into a duel with real weapons against an opponent nearly three times his age.
[This is how it always begins,] the voice commented cryptically. [A small spark that ignites a much larger fire.]
"Who is he?" Grim thought, glancing at the elderly man now walking ahead, talking quietly with General Yongrun. "Is he really my grandfather?"
The voice remained silent for so long that Grim thought it wouldn't answer. Then, finally the voice said....
[The White Death has returned to the Empire. And he's been watching you all day.]