𝙸 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝙱𝚎 𝙴𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚛 (WMMAP)

8. At least he had morals.

Isidore had tried to lead Cyre away from the royals, but alas, it seemed Jennette was enjoying the foreigners presence.

Amar wanted to get out of there, and fast. "If you'll excuse me-" He said, but was cut off. "No, have tea with us." Jennette grabbed Amar by the hand, and he quickly shook her off. The princess was a foul person. He didn't like the feeling of her on him. Amar found himself wanting to vomit. He quickly looked down, aware of what he had just done.

Jennette was a princess, loved by her people. She didn't understand why some lowborn scum shook her off. He should be grateful for even breathing the same air as her. But she had to maintain the reputation as Obelia's purity. Jennette ignored the foreigners mistake, finally turning to her fiancé.

Ijekiel watched as Jennette turned away, tears in her eyes. She as always sensitive. He looked back to Cyre, who was now escaping with the guard. No one would insult Jennette. She was the Crown Princess of Obelia, and no one had the right to disobey her like that. To be honest, Ijekiel was feeling uneasy. His fiancé had touched another mans hand without hesitation. Whatever happened to keeping her hands to herself? He secretly smiled when the foreigner shook her off. At least he had morals.

The next day, Amar was found in the training grounds, with all squires. He watched each and every person and their training methods. Amar wasn't bad at fighting, but he wasn't good either. If he were to take over Obelia, he needed to start training now. There was no time to waste.

Amar had waited until midnight when all the trainees were gone to train. Gosh, it'd look suspicious to any other person, but he did not want to show off his lack of abilities in front of others. They'd laugh at him if they known who he really was. He'd recognised only a handful of people, but with the disguise his uncle had put together, no one had been able to recognise him.

He stepped into the training grounds. There was still equipment left out, fortunately. No one would notice if he took a quick training session. He lifted the sword, heavy as it was, and struck a blow onto the nearby dummy. The edge of the sword barely hit its target, but Amar couldn't complain. It was the most progress he'd gotten in his whole life. He struck the dummy again and again and again the hilt of the sword fell from his hands. It hadn't even been that long. Ten minutes, to be exact. This was bad. He needed to overthrow Claude as soon as possible. Perhaps he needed another method to become stronger. Magic? Maybe not. There was no one who'd help a suspicious foreigner. Or was there? The imperial magician. But he had long since gone into hiding, only coming out once a month ago for Athanasia's funeral. Amar wondered what his sister would think of him right now. Would he be considered cowardly? Rash?

There was no way of knowing anymore.