Back to the Roots

Cheapter 13: Defeat

I was out of breath, struggling to regain my composure and stand tall. I gripped my sword tightly, and like everyone else, I turned my eyes to King Valen. His gaze met mine. He studied me from head to toe, then turned to the trainer beside him.

“These are real swords,” he said.

“S-Sir, we…” the trainer stammered.

The expression on King Valen’s face hardened instantly. “You are letting soldiers fight with real swords during training?” he shouted.

“No, sir. Normally we use wooden swords, but…”

“Then,” Valen interrupted, pointing to the weapons in our hands, “what are these?”

The trainer swallowed nervously. “Sir, they started with wooden swords, but at the request of both sides, they moved on to real swords. We only—”

“I don’t see a training session!” King Valen cut him off. His voice rose with anger. Maybe the trainer tried to calm him, but it was impossible. “What if you had injured each other? What if a permanent wound was caused? The life of any soldier is not worthless to me!”

The trainer panicked. “You are absolutely right, sir. Normally, we would never allow such a thing,” he replied.

“Exactly!” Valen bellowed.

Then his gaze turned to us. It was stern, furious. “What would have happened if I hadn’t intervened? When would this duel have ended? When one of you died?”

The trainer, in a trembling voice, said, “Sir… we apologize. You are absolutely right.”

Without realizing it, I had glared at King Valen in anger. Noticing this, Valen raised his hand to silence the trainer and turned his eyes back to me. He raised an eyebrow slightly, as if to say, “Say what you need to say.”

Everyone was silent. Breaths were held. Only the trace of pity in King Valen’s eyes was visible. I couldn’t understand that look.

“Would I have had to wait for one of you to die?” he asked.

“No…” I said, my voice cracking. “But I could have won.”

At that moment, the trainer turned to me. “Elia,” he said firmly. Everyone was silent, their eyes on me.

“You lost.”

Time seemed to freeze. “I lost…” I whispered, repeating the words, echoing in my mind, ringing in my ears.

I met the eyes of the surrounding soldiers. They were all watching me. Then I glanced at Alpaz; he wasn’t looking away either.

As the words of my loss echoed inside me, I felt moisture on my face. I brought my hand to my nose and wiped it with the back of my hand. My hand was covered in blood. Blood was running from my nose. I remembered Alpaz’s blow to my face and the rule I had set: “The one who bleeds first loses.”

They were right. I had lost.

I froze, shocked and ashamed of my defeat. King Valen looked at me. “Drop your sword,” he said sternly. “Go clean up.”

My anger knotted in my throat, and my eyes welled up. I couldn’t even lift my head as I dropped my sword to the ground and left the hall with heavy steps. Eventually, my pace quickened, and I ran toward my room.

The force of the blow on my face had caused my nose to bleed, and that had led to my loss. My footsteps echoed in the palace’s stone corridors as I ran to my room. With each step, my lungs burned, my chest felt tight as if it refused to breathe. Finally, I reached my room, slammed the door shut, and threw myself into the small bathroom.

Entering the bathroom wasn’t just to clean the blood from my face and hands. It was more to escape everyone, to hide in the quietest corner I could find. I closed and locked the door, then sat on my knees with my back against it. My body trembled from exhaustion, my head spinning from the blow, the walls around me seeming to tilt. But none of this was as heavy as the pain in my heart. Most of all, losing in front of so many people hurt.

I had entered this palace as a commander. I had rank, discipline, and experience. Yet, still, I was facing not just any ordinary soldier—but the result didn’t change: I had clashed with him and lost. And all eyes were on us: the soldiers, the trainer, and most importantly, King Valen. My pride had been struck harder than my sword.

My eyes began to burn. A tear I couldn’t hold back rolled down my cheek. The weight of this defeat crushed all the pride I had carried for years. I felt weakened, overshadowed in the eyes of everyone in the palace. Would they still look at me with respect, or leave me in the shadow of a mocking glance? I didn’t know.

I shook as I straightened up. I turned on the faucet; the sound of running water eased the knot in my throat slightly. I placed my hands under it; the water ran over my fingers, turning pink. As I leaned to wash my face, I saw my reflection in the small mirror at eye level. At first, I hesitated to look. I didn’t want to face that image. But curiosity won.

What I saw in the mirror wasn’t the person I knew. My eyes were bloodshot, filled with tears. A thin stream of blood still ran from the side of my nose. My pale, exhausted face was unfamiliar to me. I spat b****y saliva into the sink, then cupped water in my hands and splashed it over my face repeatedly. The cold water echoed on my skin but could not extinguish the fire inside me.

I didn’t even know if the training had ended. Leaving like this, not returning… how would it make me look? Had I become someone who fled, abandoned halfway? Or had the training truly ended at that moment by King Valen’s words? I couldn’t decide. Should I go back, or was it enough for today?

When I lifted my head slightly, I noticed the white shirt I was wearing. Blood had dropped onto it, leaving red stains on the chest. No matter how much I tried, the stain would remain.

I stayed in the bathroom for a long time. I cleaned my face, hands, and neck. I washed the blood from my hair. I stayed under the water until my hands went numb. Then I changed into a fresh shirt. Yet the weight inside me could not be washed away with clothing or water.

I took a deep breath to compose myself and stepped out of my room with heavy steps. The silence of the corridor made my footsteps sound louder than they were. Should I return to the training hall? Could everyone still be waiting for me there? Or had they already dispersed? I didn’t know what to do. My legs carried me forward, but my heart was still blocking my path.

At the end of the corridor, a soldier appeared. His face looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Just from his clothing, his posture, and the look on his face, I guessed he had been present in the training earlier. When he noticed me, he hesitated for a moment. His eyes locked on mine, as if he forgot to look anywhere else.

I met his gaze involuntarily, but it was a timid look. The weight inside me reflected in my eyes. As the silence stretched, my heart began to beat faster. Unable to hold back, I asked in a low voice, “Is training still going on?”

A flicker of hesitation crossed the soldier’s face. His voice was timid but clear: “No, sir. We dispersed by King Valen’s order.”

His words created a strange emptiness inside me. It felt like an answer to my questions, yet it opened the door to more questions. “I understand,” I said briefly. My voice wasn’t cold or bitter, more weary and exhausted.

I changed my path and turned back. I didn’t look behind, but I could feel his gaze still on my back. It deepened my shame. Being defeated in front of everyone had burned me enough; now feeling a soldier’s attention on me was unbearable.

Yet it was strange… there was neither mockery nor contempt in those eyes. Mostly, there was surprise, maybe a hint of admiration he couldn’t understand. It startled me slightly. It didn’t ease my shame, but it left a question in my mind: Was everyone really as merciless as I imagined, or was I giving myself the harshest punishment?

As I walked toward my room, I heard a soldier call behind me: “Commander Elia!” I paused and turned. The voice had a tone I was familiar with from the Solvenya palaces; formal, yet somehow commanding attention. Hearing it, I couldn’t help but show a faint smile. I straightened up without realizing it and looked at the soldier.

“Aren’t you going to the dining hall for your meal?” the soldier asked.

“A meal?” I asked, still weary from the earlier fight. “Do we eat in the dining hall?”

The soldier nodded: “In Tienya, commanders sometimes eat with the soldiers; sometimes the king joins. But if you’re tired or don’t want to, you can eat in your room. Meals are usually done collectively to motivate the unit and instill a sense of security, especially after training together.”

His words kept echoing in my mind. I had had a hard day; the fatigue from the fight still weighed on me. Retreating to my room, being alone and catching my breath, felt much easier and safer. Yet I didn’t want to ignore the sense of unity and camaraderie. No one should say I ran away or fled. As a commander, I had to set an example for the unit.

Perhaps I would go there, find a quiet corner, and eat my meal… that way I could eat quietly, quickly, and out of sight. As this idea took shape in my mind, I slowly walked toward the dining hall. With each step, I was close to giving up. As I approached, the crowd grew, and the looks directed at me increased. Reluctantly, I went anyway, determined to show that my defeat wouldn’t break me.

At the dining hall door, I observed the movements of the soldiers and other commanders. Conversations, laughter, and the light clatter of pot lids filled the space. The energy of the crowd both pressured and reassured me. I moved toward a corner, grabbed a tray from the ready stack, and quietly focused on my meal. I tried to keep my eyes away from others, but at the same time, I felt that sense of unity, blending in with them even as if I were in another world.

As I took my first bite, I felt the weight of the day and my exhaustion slowly lifting. Eating didn’t just nourish my body—it also rested my mind. Sitting quietly, being part of the sense of unity at that moment, gave me warmth and a sense of belonging.