Borgon has always despised duels. Not the idea of ​​crossing swords or measuring his strength.
Simply, the feeling of ​​having to make an attempt on the life of others, albeit in self-defense or for a greater purpose.

However, his mentor has been preparing him for this since childhood.
To the moments when he should have put aside his pacifism and instead flaunted his draconic fury.
Easier said than done, especially when the Prince of Valmeridia was still a teenager.

Even at that time, Borgon didn't like to use violence, but preferred to resolve things with words.
Partly because of what he believed in and partly because he felt mentally weak, and was afraid to show his strength so as not to hurt others.

On the contrary, Sir Cordiale, who had more experience than him in combat, knew well that sometimes, unfortunately, war is inevitable.
And so he wanted to train Borgon so he knew what to expect in a duel.
Not to overwhelm his enemies with force, but precisely to ensure that if diplomatic channels didn't work
and a first blow was therefore struck, Borgon would have been able to strike the decisive one.

Duels between different faiths.
The one of Borgon who believed in the fact that brute force was the resource of cowards,
and Sir Cordiale one who, as an undead, understood more than anyone else how the use brute force,
pure and simple, sometimes solves quickly a situation in which diplomacy would only risk claiming even more victims.

And so, on those distant nights, the training room echoed with the clang of metal,
while sparkling flashes of crossing blades sometimes illuminated the red sandstone walls.
With death in his heart and a promise to keep, the ghost inside the golem armor swung his claymore as if it had the weight of a feather,
splintering the floors where it impacted and whistling in the young dragon's ears when it grazed his head.

However, Borgon's fear mixed with adrenaline showed how Sir Cordiale's teachings were put to good use.
The slightly bent legs moved nimbly, mimicking the movements of a hare intent on defending its territory at all costs.
And where speed wasn't enough, the toned draconic muscles absorbed the violent blows delivered by that armor heavier than him.

The forbidden alchemy of a fighting style that had its foundations in the fighting techniques of two different species
day after day showed its true potential, like raw rock slowly made smooth by the motion of the waves.

And where the body is strengthened at the cost of so much effort, even in the mind a clash between two opposing forces takes place:
the feral fury of the dragon rages against the noble precepts of a creature endowed with wisdom and good intentions.
An unstoppable force against an immovable object, both wanting to prevail,
but aware of the need for each other in order to forge a righteous and commendable prince.
A duel of the fates~