Rivelius didn’t wait long. The next morning, before the sun had fully cleared the horizon, he stood in one of Ashfall Hold’s training chambers, a rack of weapons lined against the far wall.
Reyna was already there, dressed lighter than usual; no full armor, just practical training gear, given the hour.
He crossed to the rack and studied it slowly. Swords of varying length and weight. Twin blades. Spears. A metal staff, plain and unadorned. A bow.
[Status Sheet — Rivelius Kane]
World Limit: 10,000
Strength (STR): 1,011
Agility (AGI): 1,192
Speed (SPD): 2,838
Vitality (VIT): 901
Intelligence (INT): 9,839
Charisma (CHA): ???
Reputation (REP): 37
Bloodline Awakening: 5% — Dormant
[Marital Instinct — Lv. 5. EXP: 4,920/8,000 to Lv. 6.]
He stared at the numbers for a beat before reaching for a spear from the rack.
He turned to face Reyna. She’d already armed herself with two swords, one in each hand.
"Don’t go easy on me," Rivelius said.
Reyna hesitated. "Are you certain, my lord?"
"I’m certain."
She took a stance. He mirrored it.
Then she moved.
By the time Rivelius registered it, she was already inside his guard, his spear parried aside by one blade, her second sword resting flat against his throat.
He blinked.
[This is fun.]
Reyna retracted her sword at once, stepping back, gaze dropping to the floor. "You said not to go easy on you, my lord."
Rivelius stared at her for a moment.
"Let’s try again."
Reyna nodded, stepping back to give herself proper distance before resetting into her stance.
This time, when she moved, he managed to track the first strike, spear angled just in time to catch the edge of one blade. The second sword came from the opposite side almost simultaneously, and he twisted to catch that too, barely, the impact jarring up through his arms.
He never saw the follow-up. Her first blade disengaged and swept back around while he was still recovering from the second, and before he could reposition, its edge was already resting flat against his throat.
Silence.
Reyna retracted her sword, stepping back, gaze dropping to the floor once more.
Rivelius cleared his throat.
"Reduce your speed," he said, frowning. "Slightly."
Reyna nodded immediately. "Yes, my lord."
They reset. This time, he blocked the first strike cleanly, but the second still found him, her blade against his throat before he’d fully recovered his footing.
Silence.
"Did you even reduce your speed?"
"I did, my lord. I’m sorry if it doesn’t seem like it."
[Ouch.]
Reyna retracted her swords. "Have I offended you, my lord?"
Rivelius crossed to the rack and set his spear back in its place, silent for a moment too long. When he finally turned to face her, he caught the worry plain on her face, waiting on an answer she clearly feared.
The truth was simpler and less flattering than offense. He remembered every technique he’d ever mastered, every reflex trained across decades of war, perfectly intact in his mind. This body simply hadn’t earned any of it yet. It was too slow. Too weak. None of it was her fault at all.
"When did you start training?" he asked instead.
"My father taught me, starting when I was five." A pause, something quieter settling into her voice. "He passed when I was twelve, as I told you. I kept training on my own after that. It was the only thing of his I had left to hold onto."
"Hm."
His gaze drifted to the twin blades now hanging loosely at her sides.
"You’re better with two swords than with one."
Reyna glanced down at them, then back up at him, a small smile crossing her face.
"That will be all for today," Rivelius said. "You’re dismissed."
Reyna inclined her head and made her way toward the door, leaving him alone with the rack of weapons.
He reached for the spear again.
For the rest of the morning, he drilled alone, running through forms his mind knew perfectly and his body kept failing to execute cleanly. A grip adjustment that came a half-second late. The instincts were all there, intact, exactly where he’d left them, but this body had never once carried them before, and no amount of remembered mastery could substitute for muscle that simply hadn’t been trained. He worked through it anyway, repetition after repetition, forcing mind and body toward something closer to alignment, one imperfect strike at a time.
The rest of the day passed quietly. Rivelius spent it split between the training yard and the stables, checking on the men’s progress and Ashen’s continued good behavior, while word of his morning session apparently made its way through the household staff with the usual degree of exaggeration. By the time he passed Mireille in the corridor that afternoon, she gave him a look he’d come to recognize by now, the particular knowing smile reserved for a man everyone had decided was completely devoted to his wife, whether the specifics of the actual story matched or not.
He didn’t bother correcting it.
That evening, once dinner had ended and the household had settled for the night, Cordelia found him in their room, wheeling herself in with an envelope resting in her lap.
Rivelius sat on the edge of the bed, a book still open in his hands from earlier. He looked up as she wheeled closer.
"Have you started using the permits Rolin sent over?" he asked. "For the farm."
[50 EXP received — for initiating the conversation.]
[You’re getting better at this.]
He ignored it, as always.
"I have," Cordelia said. "I sent Mireille into town to put up postings for farmhands, and she’s already made contact with the guild about the labor exchange. All that’s left now is the actual hiring."
Rivelius nodded, and turned his attention back to his book.
A pause.
"There’s something else," Cordelia said, holding out the envelope.
Rivelius set the book aside and took the envelope from her, breaking the seal and unfolding the letter inside.
Cordelia watched him read it, her hands settling in her lap. "It’s an invitation. The crown hosts a banquet every year for the empire’s ranking nobility, ministers, and high officials. Spouses are expected to attend together." A pause. "I’d like you to come with me."
"Is attendance mandatory?"
"It’s not," she said, quieter now. "But as a princess, I’m expected to."
Rivelius stared at her for a moment, and waited.
No notification came. No task. Nothing at all.
He’d half expected Warden to force his hand the way it had with everything else, and found the silence, for once, genuinely unsettling in its absence.
He looked back at Cordelia. She wasn’t looking at him now, gaze dropped, already speaking.
"It’s okay if you’re busy, or if you’d rather not—"
"Okay."
She paused and looked up. "By okay you mean...?"
He nodded.
Cordelia’s face broke into a full, unguarded smile.
[Now we’re getting somewhere. Also, that was like an hidden task. Glad you didn’t botch it.]
[Reward: +50 Strength, +50 Vitality, +50 EXP.]
[Strength (STR): 1,011 → 1,061 ↑]
[Vitality (VIT): 901 → 951 ↑]
[Marital Instinct — Lv. 5. EXP: 5,020/8,000 to Lv. 6.]
What do you mean, hidden? he thought, but Cordelia’s voice broke through before Warden could answer.
"Maybe... when we’re back," she said, "we could finally have that afternoon. Together."
"...Okay," Rivelius said.
Cordelia smiled, and said nothing more about it.
"It’s time for bed," he said.
She nodded.
He crossed to her chair, lifted her the same way he always did, and set her down gently on the bed before lying down on his own side.
"Goodnight, Rivelius," Cordelia said, quiet and happy.
He went still.
It was the first time she’d used his name at all, not "my lord," not anything formal, just the name itself, said plainly, without ceremony. He couldn’t remember, with any real certainty, the last time anyone had addressed him that way.
The thought sat with him a moment longer than it should have.
"Goodnight," he said finally, and closed his eyes.