The next morning greeted Randel with a gray sky and a cold wind that howled through the ruined vaults of the Keeper’s Palace. He walked beyond the complex, to the place where ancient stones met the young forest — a spot where he could train without disturbing anyone.
The Knights of Aichenwald were already waiting for him.
Erhard was commanding the formation, Falk was checking equipment, and the rest stood in neat ranks — clad in steel, swords at their sides, faces that had seen war and death. They were the best. The elite. The ones who had followed their prince across the steppe, through the khan’s hordes, and through an entire year of searching.
Randel stopped in front of them. Without armor. In just a simple shirt, holding an ordinary campaign sword he had taken from the baggage train. His real sword was broken. He remembered that clearly.
“Today,” he said, “we are going to learn how to fight invisible enemies.”
The knights exchanged glances. Erhard cleared his throat.
“Invisible enemies, my lord?”
“Those who move faster than light,” Randel didn’t smile. “Those who strike from behind. Those who don’t even give you a chance.”
He raised his sword.
“Attack me. All of you. At once. From any direction.”
The knights froze. All of them against one? While he wore no armor? With nothing but an ordinary sword?
“My lord…” Erhard began.
“I said attack,” Randel’s voice was calm. “Or are you afraid?”
They attacked.
Randel moved.
Not like yesterday. Not like he had against Leo. He moved the way only he could — faster than the wind, sharper than a blade, deadlier than poison. His sword sang in his hand, parrying strikes, slipping away from blades, finding every opening. He didn’t strike with full force — he only touched, only showed them where they had failed. Even so, the knights fell one after another.
Erhard, the most experienced veteran, lasted the longest. But even he crashed to the ground when Randel knocked the sword from his hands and pressed the edge of his blade against his throat.
“Dead,” the prince said. “All of you are dead. And I’m not even breathing hard.”
He lowered his sword and turned to what had once been a formation. The knights lay scattered across the ground, breathing heavily, looking up at their commander with a mix of respect and awe.
“Invisible enemies don’t exist,” Randel said. “There are only foes who are faster than you. Smarter than you. Who strike from behind. But if you convince yourselves they are invincible — you’ve already lost. They are just like you. They make mistakes. They get tired. They can be beaten.”
He raised his sword once more.
“Again. Attack.”
They attacked again.
Randel didn’t notice them right away.
He was in the middle of the training session when he caught a flicker of movement near an old column out of the corner of his eye. Leo and Torglin stood in the shadows with their backs to him. The dwarf was saying something, and the guard was listening. They were looking the other way — toward the forest, the sky, at something far more important than the prince’s training.
“My lord,” Erhard approached, breathing heavily. “You’re looking over there.”
“Have they been standing there since morning?” Randel asked.
“Yes. They’ve been talking about something. I don’t know what.”
Randel nodded. He handed his sword to Erhard.
“Continue without me. Focus on speed. I’ll be back soon.”
He headed toward the column.
Randel approached the column. He stopped. And said nothing.
Leo stood with his arms crossed, staring into the distance. The red lenses were fixed on the forest. His crimson cloak didn’t stir — there was no wind here.
Torglin glanced between the two of them, cleared his throat, and quietly stepped aside, leaving them alone.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Silence.
Randel took his time. He studied Leo — his stance, his arms, the cloak, the armor. Yesterday this guard had moved faster than his eyes could follow. Yesterday he had appeared out of nowhere and knocked the sword from his hand. Yesterday he had seemed untouchable.
Today he stood here on the edge of the ruined terrace, pretending the prince didn’t exist.
“Yesterday,” Randel said, “you moved faster than I could track.”
Leo didn’t answer.
“I’ve been thinking about it. About how you disappear. How you appear where no one expects you.”
Silence.
“It’s not magic,” Randel continued. “I’ve seen mages. They leave traces — a glow, noise, a smell. But you don’t.”
The red lenses remained fixed on the horizon.
“It’s the armor,” Randel said. “It’s the armor, isn’t it? I’ve heard of such things. The Imperial assassins used something similar. But theirs only made them hard to notice. You become completely invisible. So they don’t just grant immortality, do they?”
Leo remained silent. His posture didn’t change.
“I’m curious,” Randel took a step closer. “Who are you really?”
“You talk too much, young duke,” Leo’s voice was cold and distant.
“I’m thinking,” Randel corrected him. “And when I think, I talk. It’s a habit of mine.”
“A bad habit.”
“Perhaps,” Randel didn’t back down. “But it helps me understand things. For example, I’ve realized you’re not who you pretend to be.”
Leo slightly turned his head. The red lenses slid over the prince.
“You’re speaking about things you know nothing about,” he said.
“I know enough,” Randel smirked. “I’ve seen war. I’ve seen old warriors. They don’t stand like you. They don’t speak like you. There’s no… weight in you.”
“Weight?”
“Thousands of years,” Randel looked straight into the red lenses. “If you had truly served her for a thousand years, you would be different. Your movements would be heavier. Your voice would be deeper. Your words would be simpler. But you… you’re like a recruit who put on a senior officer’s armor and is now terrified that someone will see through him.”
He took another step closer.
“How old are you really? Twenty? Twenty-five? You look young even in that armor. Your hands… I’ve seen hands like yours on my own recruits. Not yet filled with real strength, not yet weighted by thousands of battles. You…”
He never finished.
Because Leo vanished.
Randel froze. The air suddenly felt empty. The silence pressed against his ears.
“You speak of weight, Prince?” The voice came from behind him. Cold. Quiet. Far too close.
Randel didn’t have time to turn.
Cold metal touched his throat.
A dagger. Small, black, sharper than a razor. Leo stood directly behind him — Randel could feel his breath through the slits in the helmet.
“You speak of age,” Leo’s voice was icy. “Of how young I look. Of how my hands know nothing of the weight of a thousand battles.”
He pressed just a little harder. The blade kissed the skin. It didn’t cut — it simply reminded him that it could at any moment.
“I’ve killed men like you hundreds of times,” Leo said. “Upstarts. Princes. Heroes. Those who thought they were special. Those who came to the Keeper with burning eyes and empty promises.”
Randel didn’t move. He barely breathed.
“They looked at me the same way and saw nothing but a boy,” Leo continued. “They also thought they could see through me. And then they died. With a blade in their throat and a question in their eyes. ‘How? How did you do it?’ they asked. I never answered. Because the dead don’t need answers.”
He pulled the dagger back slightly. Not away — just enough to let Randel speak.
“You call me a boy,” Leo said. “You say I’m playing a role. But who are you? A prince who appeared yesterday. A pup who still hasn’t dried behind the ears. You think you have the right to doubt me? To doubt someone who has served the Keeper since your ancestors were still crawling under the table?”
He let out a cold, cruel chuckle.
“I have been killing for a thousand years, Prince. I watched your ancestors be born and die. I watched your duchy rise to what it is today. And you… you are nothing but a moment. A flicker. And if you think you can look down on me…”
He abruptly sheathed the dagger and vanished.
A second later, he was standing by the column again, arms crossed, as if nothing had happened.
“…then you are mistaken,” he finished.
Randel stood motionless. The cold trace of the blade still lingered on his neck. His heart hammered somewhere in his throat. But he showed no fear. He simply turned slowly toward Leo.
“You could have killed me,” he said.
“I could have.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“The Keeper loves you,” Leo’s voice was calm as ice. “If I killed you, she would be upset. And I don’t want to upset her.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“But remember this, Prince. I am her guard. I have served her longer than you have existed. And if you ever cause her pain… I will kill you. It won’t matter whether she loves you or not. It won’t matter who you are. Prince, king, emperor — none of it matters. I have killed men like you before. I will do it again.”
Randel looked at him. There was nothing in the red lenses. Only his own reflection staring back.
“I understand,” he said.
“Good,” Leo nodded. “Now — why did you come?”
Randel was silent for a moment. He ran his hand over his neck — there was no blood. Only the lingering cold.
“I wanted to ask you to train my men,” he said. “To teach them how to sense an enemy. How not to die when someone attacks from behind.”
“You want me to teach your knights?”
“Yes.”
“After everything I just said?”
“After everything you just did,” Randel smirked. “You proved that you are a real guard. My men should learn from those who are stronger.”
Leo looked at him for a long moment.
“You’re a strange one, Prince,” he said at last.
“I know,” Randel nodded. “She tells me that every day.”
Leo remained silent. Then he slowly unclipped the black blade from his belt and held it out hilt-first.
“Take it,” he said.
Randel took the sword. It was heavy. Cold. The black blade swallowed the light instead of reflecting it.
“This?”
“My sword,” Leo crossed his arms. “The very one I used to knock yours away yesterday. Now it’s yours.”
“Why?”
“Because you didn’t give up,” Leo smirked. “I showed you I could kill you at any moment. I humiliated you. I called you a pup. And yet… you still came and asked me to train your men. You’re not like the others.”
“Others?”
“Others would have run,” Leo shook his head. “Or begged for mercy. Or sworn revenge. But you… you simply asked to be taught.”
“I want to become stronger,” Randel said. “For her.”
“I know,” Leo nodded. “That’s why I’m giving you the sword.”
“And you? What will you do without a weapon?”
“I am the guard,” Leo touched his own chest. “My weapon is not only a sword.”
He turned and walked toward the knights, who had already finished their training and were watching them curiously.
“Well then, mortals,” Leo said. “Your prince asked me to teach you. So I will. But I warn you — it’s going to hurt.”
“We’re used to pain,” Erhard replied.
“We’ll see,” Leo smirked. “Let’s begin.”