Chapter 115: A Mother's Broken Heart

As soon as Vyan got hurt, Clyde took an involuntary step forward, but Theodore's firm grip on his arm held him back.

"He will be fine," Theodore murmured, his tone sure, though his eyes never left Vyan.

Just like how Theodore stopped Clyde, Ronan was stopping his mother, who now had fearful tears in her eyes and wanted to stop the duel. Katelyn's initial excitement also dimmed.

Hidden in the bush, Iyana watched with mounting concern as Vyan's right arm bled. She knew Eryndor was formidable, but seeing Vyan pushed to his limits, that too bleeding, was something else entirely. Her Aura flared anxiously, ready to intervene if necessary.

"You are nothing like your mother," Eryndor hissed, his sword arcing in a deadly swing. "She was a warrior. You are just a boy playing games." As if an afterthought, he added, "Although I guess there is one similarity—both of you are disgraces."

The words stung more than the cut on his arm. Vyan's grip tightened on his sword, his knuckles white. He dodged another strike, his movements becoming more focused, more deliberate.

Eryndor's next blow came in hard and fast, but Vyan was ready. He deflected it with a swift parry, the clang of steel echoing through the clearing.

"You might say that my mother disgraced you, but all I am seeing is how much of a failure you are as a father," Vyan spat out.

"What did you just say?" Eryndor's eyes blazed with defiant anger.

"You heard me. You are the one who is disgraceful," Vyan asserted. He might not have known why Eryndor hated him so much at the start of this fight, but every time their swords clashed, it was like he could feel what Eryndor was feeling—grief, loss, loneliness, and betrayal.

Those feelings overwhelmed Vyan at first—no, more like, they confused him. But now, he was angered. Eryndor had no right feeling these emotions after what he did to his mother.

With renewed vigor, Vyan launched a counterattack. His strikes were no longer wild but precise, each one aimed with deadly intent.

Eryndor's eyes widened slightly, the first sign of unease appearing on his face. The tide of the battle began to shift.

"You have got more fight in you than I thought," Eryndor admitted, his voice grudgingly respectful. Sёarᴄh the Novelƒire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

But Vyan wasn't listening. He was in the zone, his focus razor-sharp. However, Eryndor wasn't about to give up, either. The next exchange was a blur of motion, the clang of swords ringing through the night.

Vyan's blade found its mark, slicing through Eryndor's defenses and leaving a shallow cut on his cheek. The old man's eyes narrowed, and he lunged forward, but Vyan was faster.

With a swift, unexpected maneuver, he disarmed Eryndor, sending his sword flying into the darkness.

Vyan's blade was at Eryndor's throat in an instant. His breath was coming in hard pants; stamina still not his forte.

Theodore came forward and raised his left hand in the air, announcing, "Seeing as Duke Eryndor Maverick Preaton has lost his means of fighting back, I hereby declare Grand Duke Vyan Blake Ashstone to be winner of this duel."

Vyan smirked, looking Eryndor in the eyes. "Looks like the boy playing games just beat you, Your Grace."

Eryndor's expression was a mix of anger, respect, and reluctant acceptance. "I admit my defeat,"he uttered, stepping back as Vyan lowered his sword. "I admit my defeat."

At that, Vyan couldn't help but look over at the small audience, flashing them a victorious smile.

Celeste let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her eyes gleaming with relief and pride. Clyde and Ronan grinned, their worries dissolving like sugar in tea. Even Katelyn's excitement returned, her eyes sparkling with admiration as she cheered, "Thank you for giving me such a spectacular sword display!"

"This wasn't a sword display," Vyan retorted, shooting her a deadpan look.

"Well, I was entertained nevertheless," she shot back with a mischievous grin.

Vyan shook his head hopelessly, his eyes catching Iyana, who was trying to stay hidden. He had known she was there all along. He gave her a soft smile, which she returned with a bright, warm one.

Her heart pounded with the intensity of what she had just witnessed. But it wasn't fear—it was pure excitement. Seeing Vyan fight with such focus and determination stirred feelings she had never experienced before. Her skin felt warmer, her breath a little quicker.

It was different from the usual butterflies, something deeper and more confusing.

There you go again, Iyana, thinking all perverted. I really need to stop looking at him like that! she chastised herself, slipping away silently.

"Vee, you should get that wound treated!" Celeste hollered, her heart uneasy as blood still oozed from Vyan's arm.

Vyan gave a nod and was about to walk away from Eryndor when he spoke up, "You have nothing more to say to me?"

"No," Vyan replied disinterested, "Not really."

"Do you not want me to apologize at least?" Eryndor's gaze was on Vyan's cheek, hinting at the slap.

"An insincere apology means nothing to me," Vyan said, his voice ruthless. "Unless it comes from your heart, I don't want to hear of it. And in case you want to apologize for insulting my mother, you would better do so in front of her grave. Because I am pretty sure she is the one more hurt from hearing you talk about her this way."

"That's…" A flash of hurt appeared on Eryndor's face.

Vyan sighed, the sound filled with heaviness and disappointment. Looking over at his grandfather with a cold gaze, he added, "You know what? I pity my poor mother who had the misfortune of having you as a parent."

Eryndor's heart clenched, while Vyan didn't spare him another glance and strode over to Clyde.

Vyan might have sensed Eryndor's feelings during their sword clash, but that didn't justify his actions. He could look past the slap, but how could he act civil with that man when his heart twisted in agony just imagining his mother's pain when her own father turned his back on her?

The attack on Ashstone Manor the night Aster died and Vyan disappeared (everyone presumed him dead) happened right after his parents were taken to the capital for interrogation over the monster release and attempted murder of the emperor. The outcome was inevitable—a death sentence. But they were left to languish in prison for a week.

How must his parents, especially his mother, have felt, knowing both their sons were no longer alive?

Just before coming to this clearing, Vyan overheard whispers about Eryndor's absence from their funerals. Natalia had pleaded with Eryndor to give her children a proper burial and a final send-off since she couldn't be there. But he mercilessly refused.

How could Vyan forgive that? Breaking his mother's heart like that? Her last wish, and Eryndor couldn't even honor it.

Vyan didn't fully understand why Eryndor hated him, but he knew that his own hatred was now mutual, burning with a fierce passion.

———

Meanwhile, as the fight was going on at the meadow not too far from the nobles' gathering, a certain brunette was looking around for Vyan and Clyde. "Where did those two go?"

She spotted Spencer, who was also looking for someone. He was the first to jog over to her and ask her, "Miss Freya, have you seen Sir Jacques?"

"Sir Jacques is also missing? I can't find Vyan or Clyde, either," Freya let out, her eyes wide. "Where would all of them have gone?" Since Freya was always in charge of planning and this time helped Vyan with all the technicalities of this hunting festival, she was aware that there were no secret hiding spots nearby.

"Oh," Spencer sighed in relief. "I was worried Sir Jacques got lost once again. For a big man of his esteem, he has a very bad sense of direction," he said with a playful chuckle. "Anyway, Miss Freya, don't worry. As long as My Lord has Sir Jacques and Sir Clyde with him, he must be okay."

Freya hummed, feeling assured now. "You are right. I just had a bad feeling all of a sudden and got worried."

Spencer shot her a reassuring smile and patted her shoulder before going away.

She let out a sigh of relief and was about to go rest in her tent when a voice called out, "Freya?"

Freya's body froze up, her blood turning cold.

"Fancy meeting you here, my little bird."