Chapter 18: A Date, a Duel, and a Disaster Waiting to Happen

Princess Lysandra's invitation arrived at Hiroto's quarters in the form of a perfumed scroll tied with silk ribbon. He'd just returned from yet another council meeting—this one discussing how to feed stray pets in Solencia in case the Divine Variable's power summoned more magical mishaps—and found the delicate parchment resting on his cluttered desk.

He stared at the elegant handwriting:

> Captain Hiroto,

Your bravery and… unique talents have won my gratitude. I wish to spend an evening in your company—just the two of us, away from courtly duties—tomorrow at sunset in the Crystal Gardens. Will you honor me with your presence?

—Princess Lysandra

Hiroto blinked. A date? His mind whirled. Did I mention "company" in the sense of "group therapy for accidentally famous people"? His cheeks warmed as he imagined politeness turning into awkward stumbling. He scribbled a reply:

> Your Highness,

I would be honored. I promise to trip only once—maximum twice—if that's acceptable.

—Hiroto

He sealed the scroll, trying to look suave rather than panicked, then turned to find Virelya sharpening her sword in the corner.

"Princess date," he announced, awkwardly grinning.

Virelya bare‑knuckled her blade. "A date? She trusts you enough for that?"

Hiroto scratched the back of his head. "I think she's amused by my… unpredictability."

Sera popped in, juggling three flasks. "Date prep kit! Breath mints, emergency tea, and this potion that stops hiccups." She plopped it on his desk. "Basically, I'm your squire of social survival."

Hiroto nodded gravely. "Thank you, Sera. I'll… need it."

---

At sunset, the Crystal Gardens bloomed in lilac and gold under drifting lanterns. A soft breeze rippled through the flowering hedges. Princess Lysandra awaited beside the marble fountain. Her gown was a cascade of rose‑pink silk; her hair fell in gentle waves, adorned with tiny moonflowers.

Hiroto approached, trying—and almost failing—to keep his shoulders square. He offered a curt bow. "Your Highness."

Lysandra smiled warmly. "Thank you for coming, Captain. Please, walk with me."

They strolled along a flagstone path lined with glowing runes. Hiroto's heart pounded; every snap of twig underfoot sounded like applause. He cleared his throat. "You look… radiant, Princess."

Lysandra laughed, a clear, musical sound. "You're surprisingly good at compliments." She linked her arm with his. "Thank you for saving me the other night… intentionally or not."

Hiroto winced. "I'm still not sure how I did it." He waved toward the fountain. "Shall we sit?"

They settled on a bench, the water's gentle burble a soothing backdrop. Lysandra dipped her fingertips in the pool. "Tell me, Hiroto—when you trip into heroics, how do you feel?"

He shrugged. "Terrified… then apologetic." He glanced at her. "And you? Why invite a clumsy clerk on a private walk?"

Her gaze turned soft. "I've seen more sincerity in your stumbling than in twenty noble speeches." She paused. "I wanted to know the man behind the legend."

Hiroto exhaled. "Well, behind the cliché myth is someone who prefers tea to turmoil." He offered her a small flask. "Emergency tea?"

Lysandra accepted it, sipping with a grin. "Perfect." They shared a quiet moment, sipping and watching the lanterns drift like paper stars.

---

A sudden crash interrupted the tranquility. Torchlight flared as a group of armored nobles burst into the garden, led by Lord Ravric, a tall duelist with a perfectly trimmed goatee and eyes like steel.

"Halt!" Ravric demanded. "Princess, your safety is paramount, yet here you are alone with… Captain Hiroto." He bowed with exaggerated flair. "I challenge you, Captain, to a duel—first to disarm wins the right to escort her safely back to court."

Hiroto nearly choked on his tea. Lysandra sprang to her feet. "No! There's no need—"

Lord Ravric held up a gauntlet. "By the ancient code of chivalry and ceremonial obligation, a duel is required to prove his worth." He glared at Hiroto. "Steel first, tea later."

Sera stepped forward, brandishing a small vial. "I object! My captain has tea!"

Virelya waded in. "The duel is ridiculous. You'll hurt him."

Ravric sneered. "Then let him prove his mettle or admit he's unworthy."

Princess Lysandra, exasperated, drew herself up. "Very well. If a duel will satisfy tradition, I'll preside. But know this: if anyone injures him deliberately, you answer to me."

Lord Ravric bowed again. "As you wish, Princess."

---

The makeshift dueling ground was a circle of smooth stone, torches set around its perimeter. Ravric and Hiroto faced each other—one in gleaming armor, the other in ceremonial robes far too loose for swordplay.

Ravric drew a slender rapier. "En garde," he intoned.

Hiroto drew his own blade—one he'd borrowed from a training dummy. It wobbled in his grip. "I… guard?"

They lunged simultaneously. Ravric's rapier flicked toward Hiroto's chest. Hiroto instinctively raised his arm and let out a pained grunt…

CRUNCH!

Ravric yelped in shock and stumbled backward, dropping his blade. His gauntlet had struck Hiroto's chest with such force that his own wrist snapped under the collision.

Ravric clutched his wrist, white‑knuckled, while Hiroto stood rooted—blade held aloft, chest heaving. Garden torchlight glinted on the broken sword hilt clutched by Ravric's trembling hand.

A stunned silence fell.

Then, Princess Lysandra gasped. "Are you—?"

Hiroto's eyes went wide. "Your Highness, I'm so sorry! I didn't want to—"

Virelya rushed forward, checking Ravric's gauntlet arm. "He's broken it," she said. "On your own blade."

Ravric shrieked, both mortified and in pain. "My wrist! The injustice!"

Hiroto patted his chest, grimacing. "I was trying to take the blow. Honest."

Lysandra knelt by Ravric. "Let me see." She removed his glove carefully. Ravric's wrist was contorted; a delicate crackle of bone was audible.

Ravric howled. "Traitorous clerk!"

Hiroto stepped back, blade lowering. "Can we… stop now?"

---

Lady Virelya placed a hand on Ravric's shoulder. "You challenged him. Consider yourself disarmed."

Ravric glared, teeth clenched. "This is absurd!"

Princess Lysandra raised her voice. "This is how we know he's the Silent Savior—he takes a blow meant to prove himself and inadvertently proves his strength instead." She looked at Hiroto, eyes bright with admiration. "You didn't run away, you tried to shield both of us."

Hiroto offered a shaky nod. "I… did what anyone would do, Princess."

Ravric glared but could not speak. He slunk off, supported by two knights, nursing his ruined wrist.

As the torches flickered in the night breeze, Lysandra turned back to Hiroto. She unclasped his hand, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. "Thank you."

Hiroto's heart thudded. "Anytime… though next time I'd appreciate fewer broken bones."

Sera rushed forward with a cold compress and a comforting flourish. "Accidentally heroic first aid, coming up!"

---

They walked back through the rose‑scented paths, courtly guests scattering respectfully. Lysandra slipped her arm into Hiroto's again. "Not everyone can keep their composure under… accidental duels."

He managed a weary smile. "My superpower is tripping into valor."

She laughed softly. "And I'm grateful."

The night sky glittered overhead as they emerged into the palace courtyard. Virelya watched from the shadows, nodding in approval. Sera tugged Hiroto's sleeve. "You survived your first duel. That's progress."

Hiroto sighed, looking up at the moon. "If this is progress, I'd hate to see regression." He paused, then added, "Thank you—for everything."

Lysandra halted at the palace steps. "Goodnight, Captain Hiroto." She met his eyes. "I'll see you bright and early—for the Heroic Candidate council, I assume?"

He swallowed. "Bright… and early."

She smiled, then vanished behind the carved doors.

Hiroto stood alone, the broken rapier hilt in one hand, his heart pounding with equal measures of dread and something warmer. He'd faced a duel, absorbed a blow meant to prove himself, and come out standing—barely.

Sera bounded up, waving a small satchel. "Ready for emergency tea?"

Hiroto nodded, pulling her into a grateful hug. "Yes. Definitely ready."

As they crossed the moonlit courtyard—duel won, embarrassment survived—Hiroto quietly vowed: I'll keep tripping into heroics, ruin opponents' bones, and maybe… just maybe, learn to walk a little taller in the process.

And with that thought, he headed off toward his next fateful council meeting, the echo of steel and the promise of further chaos trailing in his wake.