The great training grounds of House Eiskar stretched across three massive courtyards, each dedicated to different aspects of our arts. As I approached, already sore from my dawn training, servants were finishing their preparations - clearing fresh snow, checking the integrity of ice-forged training dummies, and laying out practice weapons.

The hierarchy was visible even in the layout. The main courtyard, closest to the family quarters, was reserved for direct line members and those of exceptional talent. The eastern yard housed the cadet branches and middle-ranked cousins, while the western space served the lowest-ranked family members and common nobles hoping to curry favor.

I had always trained in the western yard. Today would be no different, despite the ache in my muscles screaming for rest.

"Cousin Isaac," a voice called out. Markus, one of the eastern branch cousins, smirked as he passed. "Come to practice being a proper servant?"

News of last night's wager had spread, it seemed. I gave him a slight nod, neither acknowledging nor dismissing the taunt. Save the energy for what mattered.

The western yard was already filling with lesser cousins and legitimized family members. Here, the training was more basic - fundamental ice manipulation exercises and physical conditioning. No specialized instruction, no advanced techniques. Just endless repetition of the basics.

I took my usual spot near the back, beginning the standard warm-up forms. Every movement sent fresh complaints through muscles already taxed from dawn training, but I kept my face neutral. Show no weakness, show no strength. Not yet.

From my position, I could observe the other courtyards. In the main yard, Franz was already putting on his morning display - ice armor forming and dissolving around him as he went through complex combat forms. Several young cousins watched in admiration as he demonstrated the perfect integration of physical and magical combat our family was known for.

Helena, ever practical, trained with more restraint in a corner of the main yard. Her ice techniques were smaller, more precise - designed for utility rather than show. She was sparring with Sophia, their movements a careful dance of both political and physical significance.

"Form up!" Master Aldrich's voice carried across all three yards. The morning's formal training was beginning.

We arranged ourselves by rank - myself near the back of the western yard, trying not to show how my legs trembled from holding the proper stance. Around me, lesser cousins and legitimized family members shifted nervously, each trying to prove they deserved better positioning.

"Begin with the First Form - Ice Sensing," Aldrich commanded.

The First Form was deceptively simple - reaching out with magical senses to feel the ice and cold around us. In my past life, I'd spent years studying the theoretical foundations of this basic exercise, understanding how it formed the basis of all advanced techniques. Now, with muscles trembling from dawn exertion, I had to carefully modulate my performance.

"Extend your senses," Master Aldrich called, walking between the yards. "Feel the natural ice, the magical ice, the potential for freezing in the very air."

Around me, lesser cousins strained visibly, their faces screwed up in concentration. Some managed to create small flurries of snow, others barely affected the morning frost. I kept my expression similarly strained, letting only the smallest whisper of power extend outward.

In the main yard, Franz demonstrated perfect form - ice crystals dancing around him in complex patterns. "Note Lord Franz's control," Aldrich announced. "The precision of his sensing creates the foundation for precise manipulation."

I could feel the true currents of ice magic flowing through the training grounds. Decades of theoretical study had taught me to recognize the patterns, the way power moved and gathered. My own Absolute Zero hummed beneath my skin, eager to reach out and grasp those currents. Instead, I maintained my facade of struggle, producing only the weakest response to the exercise.

"Second Form - Ice Shaping," Aldrich commanded. "Begin with basic crystalline structures."

This was where the hierarchy became most visible. In the main yard, Franz and other talented cousins began crafting complex ice weapons and shields. The eastern yard attempted smaller weapons and basic barriers. In our western yard, most struggled to form even simple shapes.

I focused on creating a small, deliberately malformed ice crystal. Let it be slightly better than yesterday's attempts - just enough to suggest desperate practice after the wager, but not enough to draw real attention.

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"Pathetic," someone muttered nearby. "He'll be serving Marcus within the month."

More whispers about the wager. I ignored them, concentrating instead on maintaining the precise level of apparent incompetence. Too weak would be suspicious, too strong would draw unwanted attention. The perfect balance of failure was its own art.

"Third Form - Combat Integration," Aldrich announced. "Partner up for basic sparring. Physical techniques only for those below B-rank magic. Full integration for those above."

This was always the most politically charged moment of training. Higher-ranked family members paired off quickly, while lesser cousins maneuvered for advantageous matches. No one, of course, sought to partner with me.

"Lord Isaac," Master Aldrich called, a hint of cruel amusement in his voice. "Perhaps you should observe today's sparring. We wouldn't want you too exhausted for your... private training."

More laughter. I bowed slightly, accepting the implied insult while blessing the chance to rest my overtaxed muscles. "As you wish, Master Aldrich."

From the sidelines, I could study the various training methods more carefully. Franz led his group through advanced ice-combat forms - physical strikes enhanced by magical ice, defensive techniques that integrated barrier formation with bodywork. Helena's group focused more on practical applications - ice manipulation combined with traditional noble combat arts.

In the eastern yard, middle-ranked cousins practiced simplified versions of the main yard's techniques. Some showed promise, their movements suggesting potential for advancement. Others clearly struggled to meet even these reduced standards.

Our western yard was limited to basic physical combat with minimal magic use. The disparity in training opportunities was obvious - another way House Eiskar reinforced its hierarchy. In my past life, I'd never fully appreciated how this tiered training system perpetuated power differences within the family.

"Your stance is weak," a familiar voice declared. I turned to find Sophia watching me. "If you hope to survive the ceremony, you should at least master the basics."

Interesting. Sophia rarely bothered with anyone in the western yard. Her presence here, now, suggested either political maneuvering or genuine curiosity about my wager.

"Thank you for your concern, cousin," I replied carefully. "I shall endeavor to improve."

She studied me for a moment longer before returning to the main yard. I noticed Helena watching the interaction with sharp eyes. Everything was politics here, even training advice.

The morning progressed through more forms and exercises. From my observation point, I could analyze the various techniques being taught - seeing both the surface movements and the deeper theoretical principles I'd spent decades studying. The integration of physical and magical combat that had seemed so mysterious in my youth now appeared almost elementary in its foundations.

New arrivals for the ceremony began to appear around the edges of the training grounds. Distance cousins and legitimized family members, come to prepare for their testing. Their presence added new tension to the training - more competitors, more political angles, more potential allies or enemies.

"Lord Franz," Aldrich called out. "Perhaps a demonstration for our newly arrived family members?"

Franz stepped forward, ice armor crystallizing around him in an impressive display. This was traditional - showing the family's strength to remind everyone of the proper hierarchy. I watched carefully, noting how his technique had evolved slightly from my memories. The power was the same, but the application was more refined.

"Ice Combat Form Seven," Aldrich announced. "Full integration of physical and magical techniques."

Franz began the demonstration, his movements a perfect blend of martial skill and ice magic. Each strike left trails of frost in the air, each defensive move created barriers of magical ice. It was impressive, especially to the newly arrived cousins watching with wide eyes.

I noticed Helena's slight frown, though. She saw what I saw - the inefficiency in his magic use, the way he prioritized display over effectiveness. In my past life, I'd never understood why she sometimes seemed concerned about Franz's development. Now I recognized the political implications of his focus on show over substance.

The demonstration concluded with a massive ice construct - a dragon of frost that roared silently over the training grounds before shattering into diamond dust. The new arrivals applauded appropriately, while established family members gave the expected nods of approval.

"This is the power of true Eiskar blood," Aldrich declared. "This is what you all must strive for."

I kept my expression neutral, even as Absolute Zero stirred within me. Let them have their displays. Let them think power meant showing off. I had different lessons to learn from this morning's observations.

Training concluded with the traditional salute to the family's ice magic - everyone contributing what power they could to create a momentary crystalline structure above the grounds. As usual, my contribution was barely noticeable. But I watched carefully how the various magical energies interacted, how the family's collective power flowed and merged.

As we dispersed, I heard more whispers about the wager. Marcus stood with his usual group, probably discussing how he'd use his future servant. Others speculated about the ceremony, about the Mirror Trial, about the shifting politics the testing would bring.

I made my way back inside, muscles screaming from the combination of dawn training and morning forms. But my mind was sharp, cataloging everything I'd observed. The patterns of power, the political currents, the technical details others overlooked - everything could be useful.

Twenty-eight days until the ceremony. Twenty-eight more mornings of maintaining this careful balance between apparent weakness and hidden preparation. Every training session was both a challenge and an opportunity - to observe, to analyze, to plan.

Agnes waited near my quarters with fresh clothes and healing salve. She said nothing about my dawn training or the morning session, but her slight nod contained volumes of understanding.

"The library after breakfast, young master?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," I replied. "I have much to study."

Let them think me desperate. Let them laugh at my apparent dedication to finding magic in books.

Twenty-eight days.