Gavin drew a slow breath and bowed.
“I do not hate the house, my lord.
I am grateful to my father for giving me life, and grateful to you for the care you have shown my mother and me all these years.” Emond studied him in silence.
The boy’s eyes held no lie.
A six-year-old could not fake that kind of sincerity.
Gavin gathered his courage.
“My lord, I have a method for refining salt.
It turns coarse sea salt into the fine white kind only nobles can afford.
The process is simple.
I wish to give it to you as thanks for everything you have done for us.” Emond’s mouth curved in a small smile.
“We’ll speak of the salt later.
Since you already know your blood, I want you and your mother to come live inside the castle.
Once you’re there, I will have Master-at-Arms Ryan train you in the sword.
Can you bear that hardship?” Gavin’s face lit up.
“Of course, my lord.
I want to learn the sword.
I want to become a knight of honor one day.” Emond laughed and ruffled the boy’s silver hair.
“Then it is settled, little Gavin.
I will send someone for you and your mother this afternoon.
Train hard.
I expect you to become a strong knight.” That same day Gavin and Elisse moved back into Three Towers.
That night Gavin presented Emond with the written instructions for refining salt.
Emond studied the method, ran the numbers, and stared at the boy in open surprise.
The profit from clean salt could become a steady stream of coin strong enough to lift the entire house.
Bringing Gavin inside the walls had been the right decision.
Gavin was now officially part of castle life.
The domain chose promising boys from the families of its soldiers—boys of clean background—and began training them young.
Gavin trained with them.
After more than ten days of group drills, Ryan began pulling him aside in the afternoons for private lessons.
Early one morning, before the sun had fully cleared the clouds, Gavin and a dozen other boys stood in formation on the training yard in front of the stables.
All eyes were fixed on Master-at-Arms Ryan, arms folded across his broad chest, face stern.
Ryan’s voice carried across the yard.
“From today I will teach you the sword.
The sword will be your most important companion from now on.
It is more than a weapon.
It is the symbol of your honor, your courage, and your belief.
When you wield it, your heart must be steady, your hand must be steady, and your eyes must be firm.
Every swing must carry both power and skill.
Remember—on the battlefield the sword is your life.
Give every stroke everything you have.” He paused.
“First, you will learn how to hold it.” By afternoon Ryan sent for Gavin.
The boy hurried to the yard, eager for the extra work.
Ryan gave him a sideways look.
“No dawdling, kid.
Basics first.” He tossed Gavin a wooden sword.
Gavin caught it awkwardly and waited, heart pounding.
Ryan planted his feet shoulder-width apart, leaned slightly forward, and gripped the practice blade.
In one smooth motion he swung it from right to left with real force.
The movement was clean and powerful.
Gavin tried to copy him.
His swing was small, the power went in the wrong direction, and his whole body wobbled.
“Hey!” Ryan barked.
“You swatting flies?
Put your arm into it.
Drive the swing with your hips!” Gavin’s face burned.
He tried again.
It was better, but still clumsy.
Next came the downward chop.
Ryan raised the sword high and brought it down hard.
“Like this.
Full power!” Gavin copied the motion.
On the first try he put so much force into it that he nearly toppled forward.
“Steady!” Ryan roared.
“Release the power evenly.
Don’t flail around like a headless fly!” After repeated attempts Gavin found the rhythm.
His chops grew smoother and more controlled.
Then came the thrust.
“Eyes on the target.
Shift your weight forward.
Arm straight!” At first Gavin’s thrusts were slow and missed the mark entirely.
But he gritted his teeth and kept at it under Ryan’s sharp corrections.
Speed and accuracy improved with every repetition.
By the end of the day Gavin was soaked in sweat and breathing hard, yet his eyes burned with determination and a clear vision of the future.
When he reached his room he glanced at the panel and froze.
A new skill had appeared.
Swordsmanship: Beginner A plus sign glowed beside it.
Gavin’s heart hammered.
Finally.
Without hesitation he spent his last energy point.
The word “Beginner” flashed to “Familiar.” A flood of knowledge poured into his mind—how to grip, how to move, how to read an opponent’s balance.
It felt as though he had trained for years and fought in countless battles.
He picked up the wooden sword again.
It no longer felt like a foreign object in his hand.
The blade and his arm moved as one.
He looked at the panel and smiled faintly.
With this I can learn almost any skill quickly.
The only problem is getting more energy points.
Exhaustion finally caught up with him.
He fell into bed and slept like the dead.
Years passed.
In 291 AC a fourteen-year-old stood on the training yard holding a practice sword.
Sunlight caught in his silver-gold hair.
His face had lost its childish roundness; the purple eyes were deeper now, sharper.
Gavin faced Ryan across the yard.
Both of them wore the same focused, unyielding expression.
Ryan grinned and raised his own blade.
“Let’s see what you’ve learned these last years, boy.” He charged.