The wooden sword felt heavier than it should have.
Aric stood in the middle of the training yard with his feet planted firmly apart, both hands wrapped around the hilt as he held the blade in front of him. His arms were already trembling, sweat running down his forehead and stinging his eyes as he tried to steady his breathing.
Across from him, Ivar watched without saying a word.
Aric raised the sword again, his shoulders burning and his wrists aching as he swung.
The wooden blade moved through the air with a dull whistle, but halfway through the motion his arms weakened and the sword dipped dangerously close to the ground.
"Again," Ivar said.
Aric clenched his jaw and brought the sword back into position.
The second swing dragged through the air, ragged and clumsy as his exhausted muscles buckled under the sword’s weight.
"Again."
"I’m trying."
"Try harder."
Aric glared at him through the sweat dripping into his eyes before tightening his grip and forcing his arms to move again. He swung with everything he had, but the blade dropped even lower than before, nearly dragging through the dirt.
Ivar stepped forward and caught his wrist before the sword slipped from his fingers.
"Stop."
"I can keep going."
"You can barely hold the sword."
"I can hold it."
Ivar looked at him for a moment before taking the wooden sword from his hands and setting it aside.
"You are finished for today."
Aric opened his mouth to argue, but his legs gave out before he could say anything. He dropped to his knees, catching himself with one hand as his chest heaved.
Ivar crouched beside him.
"Control your breathing."
"I’m trying."
"Take your time, there’s no reason for you to rush."
Aric closed his eyes and forced himself to follow the rhythm Ivar had taught him. He drew a slow breath through his nose and released it through his mouth, repeating the process until the spinning sensation in his head began to fade.
After a few moments, he opened his eyes.
"I hate this."
"It wasn’t meant to be easy Aric.."
"I know but I have been doing this for a month, and I still cannot swing a sword properly."
"You could barely stand for this long when you started."
"That is not the same thing."
Ivar’s expression softened slightly.
"Do not discourage yourself by your progress but be proud of how far you’ve come."
Aric looked away.
Ivar rested his forearms against his knees.
"You are improving, Aric. You simply cannot see it because you are standing too close to the problem."
"I do not feel like I am improving."
"Of course you do not. You are exhausted, and you keep comparing yourself to people who have spent most of their lives training."
Aric glanced toward the rest of the training yard.
The knights were still going through their drills as though they had barely noticed the effort it took him to finish his own.
Ivar followed his gaze.
"Stop comparing yourself to them."
"Easy for you to say."
A faint smile touched Ivar’s face.
"Perhaps. I have had a little more practice."
Aric let out a tired laugh before accepting the hand Ivar offered him.
"Come on. Walk it off."
Aric grabbed his hand and allowed himself to be pulled upright. His legs still felt weak, but he managed to keep himself upright as he began walking around the edge of the training yard.
The other knights continued their exercises nearby.
Yara was practicing with her spear, her movements quick and controlled as she shifted between thrusts and sweeping strikes. Bram was attacking a wooden post with his axe, each blow landing with enough force to send pieces of bark scattering across the ground. Darian stood nearby with his arms folded, watching the others with the same calm expression he seemed to wear during almost every training session. At the far end of the yard, Nira loosed another arrow, sending it straight into the center of the target.
Aric slowed as he watched them.
After a month of training beside them, he had learned just how large the gap between them really was.
Yara noticed him staring and walked over, resting her spear across her shoulder.
"You look like you are about to fall over."
"I am fine."
"You are a terrible liar."
Yara laughed and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.
Aric nearly stumbled from the force of it.
She caught his arm before he could lose his balance.
"Careful."
"You nearly killed me."
"If that nearly killed you, Ivar is doing a terrible job."
"I heard that," Ivar called from behind them.
Yara glanced over her shoulder.
"I was complimenting your teaching."
"You have an interesting way of doing it."
Bram approached with his axe resting against his shoulder.
"He still swings like a newborn."
Aric turned toward Bram and stared at him. "I am standing right here."
"Yes, I know that, young master." Bram grinned as he rested his axe against his shoulder. "I thought you might have forgotten."
Yara laughed, while Aric shook his head.
"Still, you are getting better," Bram added after a moment. "You lasted longer today than you did last week."
Aric raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"No."
Bram’s grin widened, and Yara laughed again.
Before Aric could respond, Nira approached from the archery range with her bow hanging loosely in one hand. She looked at him for a moment before giving him a small nod.
Aric had come to understand that, from Nira, a nod like that was practically praise.
"Thanks," he said with a small smile.
Nira returned the nod before turning back toward the archery range.
Darian eventually walked over and stopped beside them, his gaze settling on Aric.
"Do you not think you are pushing yourself too hard? The academy is only five months away, and you are already worrying about how much you still have to learn."
Aric let out a tired breath. "I have to worry about it. I can barely swing a sword properly, and I have not even started learning magic yet."
"You have five months," Darian replied calmly. "You do not need to master everything at once, so stop trying to solve the entire problem in your head before you have even reached it."
Aric gave him a tired smile. "You sound like Ivar."
Darian glanced toward Ivar, who was already walking over with a waterskin in his hand.
"I learned from the best."
Ivar handed the waterskin to Aric. "Drink first, then you can continue complaining."
Aric took it and drank deeply before lowering it. "So we are not done yet?"
"Not even close."
Aric groaned as he leaned back against the bench, while Yara laughed and Bram shook his head. Darian simply turned away, leaving Ivar to deal with him.
Aric made his way toward the bench at the edge of the yard and sat down heavily. His arms were aching, his legs felt heavy, and every part of his body seemed determined to remind him that he had spent the morning pushing it further than it wanted to go.
A faint smile broke through his exhaustion, because a month ago he couldn’t have endured even half of this, and looking down at his hands, he could see the small, unmistakable proof of his progress.
The skin around his palms had hardened from the training. His fingers had become steadier, and his grip no longer failed him as quickly as it once had. Even his Battle Aura had begun to respond to him, although he could only maintain a faint layer around his arm for a few seconds before it disappeared.
It was not much.
But it was progress.
Aric leaned back against the bench and watched the knights return to their drills.
The sound of weapons striking wood filled the training grounds again, mixed with the occasional shout from one of the knights as they corrected another’s stance.
Then footsteps approached from the direction of the estate.
Aric turned his head.
His father was walking toward the training grounds.
Duke Feron crossed the yard with his usual dark attire, tied back hair, and effortless confidence, but beside him walked a woman Aric had never seen before.
She was a dark skinned woman with long hair that flowed down her back in a mixture of black and grey. She wore simple clothing suited for movement rather than ceremony, yet there was something commanding about the way she carried herself that immediately caught Aric’s attention.
She did not carry herself like a noble visiting the estate. There was something sharper in her presence, something that reminded Aric of a drawn sword, and he found himself watching her with growing curiosity as she and his father stopped near the edge of the training grounds.
Her eyes moved across the yard, taking in the knights, the weapons and the scattered training equipment before settling on Aric.
A faint smile appeared on her face.
She turned toward Feron.
"Who would have thought?"
Feron glanced at her.
"What?"
"The son of one of the greatest menos users on the continent would grow up wanting to learn magic."
Feron gave her a tired look.
"You agreed to teach him."
"I did, after all I owe you."
She smiled wider.
"But that does not mean I cannot find it amusing."
Feron shook his head.
"You haven’t changed."
"Neither have you."
Their exchange caught Aric’s attention.
He looked between them, wondering just how well his father knew this woman.
Feron finally turned toward him.
"Aric, come here."
Aric pushed himself from the bench and walked over. His legs still protested with every step, but he kept his posture straight and stopped in front of his father.
"Father?"
Feron gestured toward the woman beside him.
"There is someone I want you to meet."
He turned slightly toward her.
"This is Inara."
Aric looked at her.
Inara studied him for a moment before smiling.
"So you are Aric."
"Yes."
She looked him over once more, her eyes briefly moving toward the wooden sword lying in the dirt before returning to him.
"I was beginning to wonder what kind of child could make Feron ask me for a favor."
Aric glanced at his father.
"You asked her?"
Feron nodded.
"I did."
Aric turned back toward Inara.
She was still smiling, but there was something in her expression that made him suddenly remember the look Ivar gave him whenever he was about to increase the difficulty of a training exercise.
Inara folded her arms.
"Well?"
Aric blinked.
"Well what?"
Her smile widened.
"Are you still interested in learning magic?"
Aric looked at her, then at his father.
Despite the exhaustion weighing down his body, he found himself smiling.
"Yes."
Inara’s eyes brightened.
"Then prepare yourself, I have no intention of going easy on you."