Theodore had found himself in a schedule of sorts recently. It was a simple thing, really. He either had a match in the third event or was busy in the Hunting Grounds. There wasn't much room for anything else. The investigation into the ash beasts was progressing though perhaps slower than he would have liked. He had found more clues but nothing was conclusive yet

  Right now though he was sitting and watching a match.

  It was some random participant's duel. It didn't matter who they were. Tobin and Bran had already lost their matches. Theodore didn't really track exactly when it happened, just that they were out. Regardless, the match happening in front of him wasn't the focus.

  Roland was sitting next to him and they had been talking about his teammates and had just came to the point where Theodore was telling him about how they'd lost.

  "How did they handle it?" Roland asked.

  Theodore replied, saying, "They're good. But those were just unlucky matches. They won quite a few rounds before they got paired with someone who defeated them."

  There was quite a bit of imbalance in the pairings. Then again, it was only inevitable.

  "This tournament is a bit too much for them," he admitted. "Tessia is the only one that will go toward the end, most likely, given how fast she's plowing through her duels."

  Roland glanced at him with a smirk. "Like someone else I know."

  Theodore smiled. "I try."

  Roland snorted.

  They sat in silence for a bit then Roland cleared his throat.

  "I'm being assigned to someone else."

  Theodore remained silent for a moment. He hadn't asked about Roland's absence because, well, Roland had a life. He had been at his home, and then he hadn't appeared much before Theodore since they came to the capital. Now he knew why.

  "I see. That's good I suppose."

  It was out of their control. It was just how the Knighthood worked. But there was one variable he could control.

  "Do you want to return to Holden with me when the time comes?"

  Roland shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Why not."

  That was settled then. They didn't talk more about it. Theodore grew a bit attentive of the duel about to take place because it was the reason he'd come today. Wren's match started.

  He was up against Garrett Brennan.

  "Well, that's a bummer."

  "Why, will he lose?"

  "Yeah, well, Roland, do you know Garrett? He's really good."

  "I know him as much as I would any other young nobleman, my lord."

  Theodore perked an eyebrow at the title Roland decided to use, and when he turned to give the man a look, Roland just shrugged with a small smile. Shaking his head, Theodore observed the match with amusement.

  As expected, the match didn't last long. It ended almost immediately.

  Wren couldn't do anything. Garrett just lifted a hand, froze Wren in place with [Blood Manipulation], and then clenched his fist. Wren's head exploded.

  Theodore whistled.

  "Yep, this guy's strong," he noted.

  Roland nodded, looking at the headless Wren dissipating from the virtual arena. "He didn't even hesitate. That guy is good."

  "Yep."

  There wasn't much else to analyze there. It was pure domination. He stood up as there was no point watching any more pairings for the day.

  "Hey," Theodore said. "Wanna grab something to eat?"

  ***

  "You sure you can afford this?" Roland asked, flipping the menu which probably cost a lot more than he thought it would given how he was eying Theodore.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "I am a Prince, Roland."

  "Right. Forgot 'cause you dress like a hobo sometimes."

  "I call it tactical casual."

  Roland snorted. "Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night. Look at this though. They charge extra for 'seasonal garnishes'."

  "You are just jealous of the culture." Theodore joked.

  "I prefer culture that doesn't cost an arm and a leg just for an appetizer." Roland tossed the menu down. "I'm ordering the most expensive thing just to spite you."

  "I am trembling."

  They were at a prestigious place, it didn't matter which one, all Theodore knew was that it was expensive as hell and that the seats were comfortable, and the waiters bowed too much.

  They ordered and the food arrived soon after. It was quite delicious to be fair, so he could see why they were called a prestigious whatever-it-was-called-place.

  "Not bad," Roland admitted. "Still think they overcharged you."

  "I will survive the financial hit."

  "Must be nice. Maybe I should become a Prince."

  "The hours are terrible."

  "True. And the company is questionable," Roland grinned, pointing his fork at Theodore. "Speaking of company. Look at that guy over there. The one with the hat. He's been trying to eat that soup for ten minutes without making a sound. He looks like he's in physical pain. I wonder why he ordered when he's so afraid to even eat it properly, is he embarrassed? There is a lady with him, so maybe that's why."

  "Etiquette is suffering, yeah. Anyhow, what have you been doing really?" Theodore cut into a steak that was arguably smaller than it should be for the price.

  "Guard duty. Mostly standing around looking intimidating. Boring stuff. You know how it is. Politics."

  "I do."

  "At least you get to blow things up in the tournament."

  "It has its moments."

  They were enjoying the peace. Or at least, they were trying to.

  "Hey you two, move."

  Theodore stopped chewing. He looked up. A guy stood there. He had expensive clothes and a girl hanging off his arm though she looked bored enough Theodore wondered why she was even bothering with this guy and then there was that group of friends behind him who looked like they were waiting for a cue to laugh.

  Uh-oh.

  "Excuse me?" Roland leaned back.

  "I said move," the guy said, tapping the table. "I need this place. We're having a party."

  "There are empty tables over there," Theodore pointed out with his fork.

  "I don't want those. I want this one. It has the best view." The guy puffed his chest out. "My father owns this place."

  Theodore sighed.

  "And?"

  "And that means I can kick you out. So beat it before I call security." The guy looked at the girl. "Sorry about this, babe. Just clearing out the trash."

  The guy started getting aggressive, leaning over the table.

  Theodore let out a long suffering sigh. Why was this happening? He looked at his plate. He was mostly done anyway. He didn't want to fight some kid with an inflated ego. And the kid was clearly trying to impress the girl, so whatever.

  "You know what." Wiping his mouth with a napkin and standing up, Theodore smiled at him. "You can have it."

  The guy blinked surprised but then grinned smugly. "Y-yeah, that's what I thought."

  What, did he not expect that Theodore would just move? And how dumb could he be anyway? Theodore was pretty sure his face was plastered all over the capital along with the other participants these days, and given how young this guy was he should be pretty interested in the tournament. Or was it that he really wanted to impress his girl?

  Well, whatever. He'd let the kid have his moment.

  "Come on," Theodore said to Roland.

  Roland chuckled, standing up as well. "You're too nice."

  The guy and his friends immediately swarmed in, high-fiving. The guy sat down where Theodore had been, looking triumphant.

  Theodore just shook his head. Then a man in a suit ran in sweating buckets. He looked like he was about to have a heart attack as he scanned the room, saw Theodore, and all the blood drained from his face.

  He ran straight to Theodore.

  "Your Highness!"

  The man skidded to a halt in front of Theodore and bowed so low he nearly headbutted the floor. "I am so, so sorry! I was not informed of your visit! This is inexcusable! Please, forgive this humble establishment!"

  The restaurant went dead silent.

  The guy in the booth froze. His friends froze. The girl stopped giggling.

  The man who Theodore assumed to be the owner of this establishment straightened up, looked around, and saw his son sitting in the booth Theodore had just vacated. The realization made him go even paler.

  He marched over.

  "Dad?" The guy in the booth groaned, looking annoyed. "Keep it down, will you? You're embarrassing me."

  The owner straightened up, his face purple. He marched over to the booth. "Get up!" the owner screamed.

  "Relax, old man," the guy said, leaning back and putting his feet up on the seat. "I'm entertaining here. Go count money or something."

  Smack.

  "Ow!" The guy rubbed his cheek, looking more irritated than anything. "Seriously? In front of the guests?"

  "You idiot!" the owner screamed. He grabbed his son's hair and forced his head down towards Theodore. "Apologize! You are kicking out the Prince?!"

  "I— I didn't—"

  "Apologize!"

  Theodore sighed again. This was why he didn't like going out.

  "I do not care, it is quite alright." Theodore stepped around the bowing owner.

  "But, Your Highness—! Let me make it up to you! A free meal! Anything!"

  "No need. We are leaving."

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