Chapter 9

I am trying something new here...3rd Person. Be warned.

Yours, Jasonenrick

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By the time Kaelarys and Lysandra arrived, Uncle Vaelor, his wife Lady Deyana, and Lysandr's sisters were already breaking their fast. However, he noted that his Uncle looked much worse while trying to stomach the food. 

After finishing his business the day before, he celebrated with his Uncle and a few of his men. They all tried the whiskey and didn't know how strong it was. After a lot of wine and six glasses of whisky, they were all drunk and unable to return to their beds, resulting in... this.

After a muttered 'morning' to his extended family, Kaelarys took his place at the table while Lysdanra sat down on his lap, which earned them a few cocked eyebrows at their boldness. After about an hour into their drinking yesterday, his Uncle let it spill that the others knew about them as well, so they figured they might as well just do what they wanted when everybody already knew about it.

He began helping himself with anything he could get his hands on: bacon, sausages, eggs, and warm bread. Before he could really dig into his meal though, he was distracted by his Uncle.

"Ugh, Kaelarys," Vaelor muttered, rubbing his temples. "I don't know what you put in that whisky, but it's deadly."

Kaelarys chuckled, offering his Uncle a sympathetic smile. "It's strong, Uncle. I already told you that, but you said and I quote,' I am of the Blood of Dragon; no liquor can put me down?"

Vaelor grimaced, managing a weak smile. "Clearly, I overestimated myself."

Lady Deyana tried to hide her smile behind her hand but failed miserably. "Perhaps you should have stuck to wine, dear husband," she suggested teasingly.

Vaelor managed a weak smile. "Next time, I'll remember that."

Lysandra, perched comfortably on Kaelarys's lap, reached for a slice of bread and smeared it with butter. "Don't worry, father. You weren't the only man of the Blood of the Dragon that got put down yesterday," she said with a wolfish grin on her face.

Kaelarys chuckled, his hand resting lightly on Lysandra's hip. "It seems the whisky had quite an effect on everyone," he said smoothly, not missing a beat. The warmth of Lysandra against him only reminded him more of yesterday.

Lady Deyana raised an eyebrow. "Well, it sounds like it was a memorable evening for more reasons than one."

Alyra, sipping her juice, glanced at Lysandra with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "I trust you both enjoyed yourselves," she said, her tone teasing.

Lysandra giggled, leaning back slightly against Kaelarys. "Oh, we certainly did."

Vaelor, despite his hangover, managed to catch the underlying hint and gave a resigned sigh. "Just be careful, you two. There are eyes everywhere, even in the safety of our home."

Kaelarys nodded. He knew that what he did wasn't something out of the ordinary, but it is gossip nonetheless, and neither he nor his father wishes for rumors about him circling around. "Understood, Uncle," he replied, squeezing Lysandra's hand under the table.

A thought crossed Kaelarys's mind, and he turned to his Uncle and playful asked. "Uncle Vaelor, haven't we forgotten something?"

Vaelor raised an eyebrow, trying to remember. "Forgotten something? What are you talking about, Kaelarys?"

Kaelarys's smile widened. "You promised to spar with me in the yard today, remember?"

Vaelor groaned in annoyance, rubbing his temples again. "Ah, yes. That. I almost managed to forget," he muttered, then sighed deeply. "A promise is a promise, but I need to get over this hangover before I can fight properly."

Kaelarys chuckled. "Don't worry, Uncle. I wouldn't want to take advantage of you in your current state. We'll spar later when you're feeling up to it."

"Well, until then," Kaelarys continued, "I'll take it easy and spend some time with Lysandra.

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Belted around Kaelarys's waist was his sheathed Valyrian steel sword, a weapon forged for war and honed for battle. The sword, named "Drakonfyre," had been passed down through his family for generations. A brutal weapon made not for show but to kill. Either by slashing with the side of the blade, implaing someone with the tip or simply punch one to death with the spiked cross guard or the pommel.

Drakonfyre was wrapped in rough black leather that provided an excellent grip. The pommel was forged in the shape of a dragon's head that looked artistic, but is just as deadly as the real thing.

Walking outside Kaelarys barely made it a few steps into the yard when he heard a loud voice yelling . The source of the voice was, of course, his Uncle, who was already waiting for him. A few Household guards were around, obviously wanting to watch the spar. His personal men who have been sent here by ship from the Capital, standing next to them, whispering amongst each other. He could already tell that they were betting amongst themselves.

"Ready for your beating of the century, Kaelarys?" Vaelor called out, a smirk playing on his lips as he drew his training sword, a sturdy steel blade that lacked the lethal sharpness of Valyrian steel. It was made to train and was rather dull compared to a normal sword and might as well be just a lumb of iron in comparison to Vaylrian steel.

Kaelarys unsheathed Drakonfyre, then handed it to a nearby servant and drew his own training sword. "Overly confident, aren't we, Uncle? Keep that up and you might find out what it sounds like when a heavy mass of flesh drops on the floor," he replied with a teasing smile, stepping into the sparring circle.

Vaelor narrowed his eyes and said." Did you just call me fat?"

Kaelarys swung his training sword around himself, feeling the weight and balance of the blade. It was heavier than Drakonfyre, its steel less refined but still formidable. He adjusted his grip on the rough leather hilt, the familiar sensation grounding him as he prepared for the sparring match. He looked back at his Uncle with a teasing smirk on his face.

"Maybe"

Vaelor chuckled, his eyes narrowing playfully. "Watch it, boy. I might be tempted to show you that this 'heavy mass of flesh' still has some fight left in it."

The two men circled each other, eyes locked, each assessing the other's stance and movement. Kaelarys noted the slight stiffness in Vaelor's posture—residue from the previous night's excesses.

Vaelor moved first, a quick lunge aimed at Kaelarys's midsection. Kaelarys sidestepped smoothly, bringing his training sword up in a swift arc to deflect the blow. The clash of steel rang out, sharp and clear. Kaelarys countered with a strike to Vaelor's shoulder, but his Uncle parried it with ease.

Kaelarys felt the shock of the parry travel up his arm but maintained his grip. He shifted his weight and swung at Vaelor's legs. Vaelor leapt back, avoiding the strike, then surged forward with a powerful overhead slash. Kaelarys raised his sword horizontally to block, the force of the blow nearly driving him to one knee.

Vaelor grinned, pressing the attack with a flurry of swift, precise strikes. Kaelarys matched him blow for blow. They stepped away from each other, having gotten feel of their opponents.

"Not bad," Vaelor admitted. "But certainly not enough," he finished, immediately launching into a slash aimed at Kaelarys's head. Kaelarys barely had time to react, bringing his training sword up just in time to parry the strike, but was unable to block the kick aimed at his midsection, sending him stumbling backwards and on his arse.

The onlookers chuckled softly at the unexpected turn of events. Kaelarys grimaced, the wind momentarily knocked out of him. He quickly scrambled to his feet, his grip tightening on his sword as he faced his Uncle again.

"Quick recovery," Vaelor noted. "If this were a live and death battle, you would be dead a few times over already."

Kaelarys nodded, adjusting his stance. He took a deep breath, focusing on Vaelor's movements. When Vaelor launched another series of strikes, Kaelarys was ready. He parried and dodged all the while looking for an opening.

Vaelor moved in with a powerful thrust aimed at Kaelarys's chest. Kaelarys sidestepped, bringing his sword down to deflect the blow. He then countered with a quick upward slash, aiming for Vaelor's arm. Vaelor twisted away, but the tip of Kaelarys's blade grazed his forearm.

"Point to you," Vaelor conceded with a nod." It was a pleasure to spar with you, but I have to go back to business soon. You have gotten mighty good, and I can only pity your future enemy. Do you intend to participate in the tournament when you are old enough?" he asked. 

Kaelarys took a moment to catch his breath." Of course, Uncle," he replied. "I wouldn't miss the chance to prove myself in the tournament. Also, Seraphine wouldn't let me get away without at least trying to win it and give her the honor of being my Queen of Beauty".

The tournament is a contest of the Forty Families of the Dragon, designed to allow young scions—and ladies, if they wish—to showcase their combat skills. It is one of the most anticipated events in the Freehold, and winning it is a high honor for anyone.

Held every two years in the Bōjurlion, a massive arena the likes of which the world has never seen and never will see again, the tournament is a spectacle that attracts spectators from all corners of the World. You have to be between sixteen and eighteen to compete in it, otherwise it would be boring to watch.

Killing your opponent is also forbidden because only children of the 40 Families are allowed to compete, and any death would lead to catastrophic infighting between the families, something that would significantly weaken the Freehold, as was shown in the past when killing was allowed.

Vaelor smiled at that. "I have no doubt you'll make us proud, Kaelarys. Keep training hard, and when the time comes, you'll be ready."

As the spar ended, the people around the training yard began to clap politely. A few of them exchanged money, having, as I predicted, bet on who would win.

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While her lover and father had gone to spar, Lysandra had gone sit together with her sisters and her mother in the gardens of their mansion.

Lysandra herself was nestled between her mother and Vaelaera, her head resting on her mother's lap. She wore a soft pink dress that matched the blush of the roses surrounding them. Her eyes were half-closed, her face relaxed as she listened to the sounds of the garden: the gentle rustling of leaves, the distant chirping of birds, and the soothing trickle of water from a nearby fountain.

Lady Deyana gently stroked Lysandra's hair, her fingers weaving through the soft strands. "It's such a beautiful day," she murmured, her voice filled with contentment. "I'm glad we can all spend some time together."

Vaelaera, the eldest sister, looked up from her book, curious and asking, "So, Lysandra, how did this all happen with you and Kaelarys? It all came out of nowhere."

Lysandra's lips curled into a playful smile. "Are you asking for tips on how to rizz a man, dear sister?"

Alyra, who had been lying on her stomach, propped herself up on her elbows, looking puzzled. "Rizz? What does that mean?"

Lysandra laughed softly. "It's a word Kaelarys told me. It means to charm or attract someone, especially in a romantic way."

Vaelaera raised an eyebrow. "Rizz, huh? So, how did you 'rizz' Kaelarys?"

Lysandra snuggled further into her mother, enjoying the warmth. "Well, it all started with simple conversations. I was just being myself, showing genuine interest in his passions and dreams. We spent time together, exploring the gardens, riding our dragons, and sharing stories. We connected on so many levels."

Alyra's eyes widened. "And that's all it took?"

Lysandra shrugged with a grin. "That, and a little bit of confidence. I think the key is to be genuine and show that you truly care about the person. Kaelarys appreciates honesty and sincerity. Plus, a bit of playful teasing never hurts."

Vaelaera leaned forward." So, is this something serious, or are you just messing around?

Lysandra's playful demeanor softened, and she looked down, tracing patterns on the blanket with her finger. "Honestly, I don't know," she admitted. "We haven't really talked about it. Sometimes it feels like we're just enjoying each other's company and seeing where things go. Other times, it feels like it could be something more. Also, he is the heir of House House Baelaeron, while I stand to inherits nothing."

Lady Deyana's hand stilled in Lysandra's hair, her gaze gentle and understanding. "It's okay not to have all the answers right now, Lysandra. Relationships can be complicated, especially when you're young and still figuring things out."

Lysandra nodded, sighting softly. "I suppose you're right, Mother. I do care about him a lot, and I think he cares about me too. But I guess we'll just have to see where things go."

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So, chapters are getting longer, more POVs, and 3rd Person... Let's see how this goes