The estate's ancient bell tower had yet to mark the fourth hour when my eyes opened. Every muscle screamed in protest - last night's training having extracted its toll from this untested young body. I'd forgotten how much the initial conditioning hurt, decades of muscle memory trapped in a mind while this fresh form protested its sudden abuse.

"The vessel must be worthy of the power," I muttered, reciting one of the countless texts I'd studied in exile. Forcing myself to sit up, I began the gentle stretches that would help ease the pain. In my past life, I'd learned these movements from a wandering monk who called them 'Winter's Wake' - though they were really just basic mobility work dressed in mystical terms.

The estate slept around me as I pulled on simple training clothes. Through my window, I could see the eternal stars reflecting off fresh snow - at least three hours until the first servants would begin their day. Perfect.

I made my way to the forgotten training hall, every step a reminder of muscles unused to real work. This time, I had a plan. In my past life, I'd wasted years training without proper progression. Now I knew better.

The training hall felt different in these pre-dawn hours - more ancient, more secret. I lit a single lamp, keeping the illumination minimal. First, the foundational movements of the 'Frost Walker's Forms' - really just basic joint mobility work, but with names that wouldn't raise suspicion if discovered.

"Bones like ice, muscles like snow," I whispered, remembering the training manual I'd found decades later. Starting with ankle rotations, then knees, hips, spine, shoulders - each movement sending fresh complaints through abused tissues.

The real work began with the 'Northern Gates' - what my past life knew as planks and core holds. One minute holds became an eternity as untrained muscles shook. But I held. This teenage body might lack strength, but it had the advantage of youth's recovery.

"Nine Gates, Nine Breaths," I counted through clenched teeth. Each hold followed by controlled breathing, letting the cold air fill my lungs. My arms trembled by the sixth hold, but I forced myself to maintain proper form. Better fewer perfect repetitions than many sloppy ones.

Next came the 'Ice Bear's Strength' - push-ups with specific hand positions. Regular width, then wide, then diamond. Each one harder than the last as fatigue mounted. My arms nearly gave out on the fifteenth repetition, but I remembered the monk's teachings about mind over matter.

Sweat began to freeze in the cold air as I moved to 'Frost Giant's Rise' - squats and lunges that made yesterday's soreness scream anew. Each movement had to be perfect, had to build the foundation for what was to come. No shortcuts. No cheating.

"The body channels power," I reminded myself between sets, "but only if the channels are strong."

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Two hours passed in this methodical progression. Every movement chosen for specific purpose, every exercise building on the last. The 'Winter Wolf's Hunt' - burpees that left me gasping. The 'Glacier's Flow' - slow, controlled leg raises that set my core on fire.

Only then, with muscles thoroughly exhausted, did I begin the magical practice.

"Control before power," I muttered, taking the basic stance. In my past life, I'd studied every aspect of magical theory without being able to apply it. Now, with power thrumming beneath my skin, I had to show the opposite - deliberate weakness hiding true strength.

I reached for the smallest thread of power, letting it flow through tired muscles. A single ice crystal formed above my palm - weak, unstable, but marginally better than yesterday's attempts. To anyone watching, it would look like desperate practice from the family failure. Only I knew how much control it took to keep Absolute Zero contained, to let just this tiny fraction of power show.

"Young Master Isaac?"

I turned to find Agnes in the doorway, a bundle of fresh clothes in her arms. Her eyes took in the scene - the sweat-soaked training clothes, the careful stance, the small ice crystal slowly melting above my palm.

For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, with a slight nod that contained volumes, she set the clean clothes on a bench.

"The first bells will ring soon," she said quietly. "Shall I have hot water and healing salve ready in your quarters?"

In my past life, I'd never recognized the allies right in front of me. "Thank you, Agnes."

She nodded again and withdrew, leaving me to complete my training in solitude.

The final hour was the hardest. 'Frost Walker's Forms' again, but now with trembling muscles and fatigue-clouded mind. Each movement had to remain precise despite exhaustion. In combat, perfect form mattered most when you were tired.

Finally, as the first hints of dawn began to lighten the eastern windows, I forced myself through one last set of 'Northern Gates'. My entire body shook with effort, but I held each position for the full count.

Cleaning the training hall took precious minutes - no evidence could remain of these sessions. I gathered my sweat-soaked clothes just as the first bell began to toll across the estate.

The corridors were still empty as I made my way back to my quarters, though I could hear the first stirrings of servants beginning their day. As promised, Agnes had hot water waiting, along with the healing salve.

My muscles protested every movement as I cleaned away the morning's efforts. Looking in the mirror, I saw what others would see - the family failure, perhaps trying too hard after last night's foolish wager. They wouldn't notice the slight improvement in posture, the marginally better muscle tension.

Twenty-eight days until the ceremony. Twenty-eight more dawns to rebuild this body into something worthy of the power it contained. Each day would be a careful balance - push hard enough to grow stronger, but not so hard as to draw attention.

As I applied the healing salve to aching muscles, I reviewed the morning's work. The progression was sound, but I needed to add more rotational movements. Combat wasn't just about straight lines and simple planes of motion.

The estate was properly awakening now. Soon, others would head to the regular training grounds for their morning practice. They would find me there later, seemingly struggling with basic ice manipulation, never suspecting the real work had been done hours before.

I dressed carefully in my regular training clothes, making sure to hide any signs of the morning's exertion. Let them think their mockery and wagers were pushing me to desperation. Let them laugh at the small improvements they would see.