I woke to Sebastian gently shaking my shoulder. My face was pressed against the carpet where I'd collapsed last night. The room spun slightly as I tried to focus, every muscle screaming in protest at the mere thought of movement.

"Young master," Sebastian's voice held careful neutrality. "You fell asleep during your exercises."

Memories filtered back through the haze of exhaustion. I'd attempted another set of pushups after dinner, determined to build some basic strength. Must have passed out mid-rep.

"What time?" I managed, throat dry.

"Two hours before dawn." Sebastian helped me sit up, his movements precise. "Lady Brunhilde awaits in the south courtyard. Though perhaps today's training might be postponed given your... condition."

I shook my head, immediately regretting the motion as pain lanced through my neck. "No. I'll go."

Sebastian's silence spoke volumes, but he helped me stand. My legs trembled like a newborn colt's, muscles locked from sleeping on the floor. Even breathing hurt.

"Your morning tea, young master." He pressed a steaming cup into my shaking hands. The familiar bitter herbs would help mask the worst of my weakness, though their effect was mainly psychological. "I took the liberty of adding extra warming spices."

I sipped carefully, using the moment to assess my body's condition. Every muscle fiber protested, from neck to calves. Yesterday's twenty pushups felt like a distant dream - right now, I doubted I could manage one.

The mirror showed dark circles under my eyes, but I forced my posture straight as Sebastian helped me dress. The training clothes hung loose on my thin frame, another reminder of this body's limitations.

"Lady Brunhilde is known for her... thoroughness in training," Sebastian said carefully, adjusting my collar. "Perhaps a more gradual approach-"

"I'll manage." The words came out sharper than intended. I softened my tone. "Thank you, Sebastian."

His slight frown suggested he wasn't convinced, but he merely bowed. "As you wish, young master."

The south courtyard air hit like a physical blow, biting through my clothes despite the warming spices. Frost covered the training dummies, their ice-coated forms catching the weak dawn light. Lady Brunhilde stood with perfect posture, her white hair bound in a severe training braid.

"Begin your warmup," she commanded without preamble. "Ten laps around the courtyard. No magic."

I started running, keeping my pace measured. Each impact sent jolts through my legs, muscles already strained from yesterday's exertions. The cold air burned my lungs.

Sebastian's intervention must have worked - she hadn't added weights or other complications. Yet.

By the fifth lap, my legs felt like lead. Sweat froze on my skin despite the exertion. Lady Brunhilde watched with sharp eyes, analyzing every movement.

I focused on maintaining form over speed. Proper foot placement, controlled breathing, steady pace. This body's limitations were frustrating, but rushing would only lead to injury.

The final lap seemed endless. When I finished, Lady Brunhilde's expression hadn't changed, but she gave a slight nod.

"Acceptable. Now, basic forms."

I moved into the first stance, arms trembling as I tried to maintain proper form. My muscles refused to cooperate, each position more painful than the last.

"Pathetic." Lady Brunhilde's voice cut through the morning air. "If you're going to waste my time after spending all night drinking with servants, you can find another instructor."

"I wasn't drinking." The words came out between ragged breaths as I failed to hold the third stance.

"Then explain this disgraceful display."

Heat crept up my neck, but I forced myself to meet her gaze. "I was doing pushups. After dinner. Tried to get stronger. Must have... passed out on the floor."

Her eyes narrowed. "Pushups."

"Yes, my lady. Sebastian found me there this morning."

She strode over, grip like iron as she lifted my arm, examining the trembling muscles. "How many?"

"One, barely." I swallowed. "I kept trying and kept going until I couldn't anymore. I woke up on the floor."

Lady Brunhilde released my arm, something shifting in her expression. "You pushed until unconsciousness."

It wasn't a question. I nodded, shame burning hotter than my screaming muscles.

"Foolish." But her tone had changed, carrying a note of... approval? "Dedication means nothing if you cripple yourself before achieving results. There are proper methods to build strength."

"Yes, my lady."

"We will adjust your training schedule. You will learn these methods correctly, or not at all." She stepped back and grabbed something from the wall, a simple towel.

I dropped into pushup position, arms already shaking. Shortly after, the towel slid under my chest, and Lady Brunhilde took the ends in her hands.

"First set. Down."

The pressure against my chest lessened as she lifted slightly with the towel, taking some of my body weight. My arms still trembled, but the assistance made the impossible feel merely difficult.

"One." Her count was sharp and clear. "Down. Two."

Each repetition burned, but the towel's support let me maintain proper form. Lady Brunhilde adjusted the pressure precisely - enough help to complete the movement, but still forcing my muscles to work.

"Keep your core tight. Down. Eight."

Sweat dripped onto the towel despite the freezing air. My shoulders screamed, but her steady counting kept me moving. The assistance made twenty pushups possible, though barely.

"Rest. One minute." She maintained her grip on the towel. "Then second set."

I focused on breathing, trying to recover what strength I could. Far too soon, her voice cut through the morning air.

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"Down. Set two begins."

The second set was agony, but the towel's support remained constant. Lady Brunhilde's counting never wavered, each number driving me through the burning in my arms.

"Final set." She adjusted her grip on the towel. "Down."

Every muscle fiber protested as I lowered myself again. The assistance felt like the only thing keeping me from collapse, but I forced myself to maintain form. Lady Brunhilde's count continued, relentless and precise, until the final repetition.

"Twenty. Hold position."

"Release." Her command came after what felt like eternity. I collapsed onto the frozen ground, chest heaving. "That is how you build strength properly. Controlled. Measured. With assistance when needed."

I couldn't respond, focusing solely on breathing. My arms felt like water, shoulders burning with a deeper fire than all my failed attempts combined.

"Tomorrow, we begin before dawn. Proper warmup, then strength training. After that, basic forms." She coiled the towel with precise movements. "Three sets, twenty repetitions each. When you can complete them without assistance, we increase the difficulty."

I managed to push myself to sitting position, every movement a fresh reminder of my weakness. "Yes, my lady."

Lady Brunhilde paced in front of me, her boots leaving precise tracks in the frost. "I intended to focus on your magical foundation. Your control shows promise, despite your... limitations."

I stayed silent, arms still trembling from the pushups.

"But this-" She gestured at my hunched form. "This physical state is unacceptable. Magic flows through the body. Without proper conditioning, even basic techniques become unstable."

She wasn't wrong. In this life, before my exile, I'd looked for power and position in the family almost exclusively from the library and study.

"Your brother Franz started strength training at age four," she said. "Most Eiskar children begin conditioning before they manifest ice abilities. You're years behind."

I remembered Franz's relentless training schedule, how he'd spent extra hours in the yard while I huddled in the library. The gap in our abilities wasn't just magical; it was built on a foundation of physical discipline I'd completely ignored.

"We cannot proceed with proper magical instruction until this deficiency is addressed." She crossed her arms. "The awakening ceremony approaches, and you can barely complete assisted pushups. This gap must be overcome first."

"Your magical control indicates potential," she continued. "But without the physical base to support it, that potential is worthless. We will focus on conditioning until you achieve minimum acceptable standards."

"Understood, my lady." I forced myself to straighten despite the burning in my shoulders. "When do we begin?"

"Now." Lady Brunhilde's boot scraped against the frost. "On your feet."

My legs shook as I stood, muscles already drained from the pushup sets. She circled me slowly, examining my stance with critical eyes.

"Your posture is atrocious. Shoulders back, spine straight." Her hand pressed against my back, forcing my alignment. "This is your base position. You will maintain it during all training."

Pain shot through my shoulders as I tried to hold the posture. Even standing felt like an ordeal after the morning's exertion.

"The Eiskar fighting style relies on perfect form," she said. "Each movement builds from this foundation. Without proper posture, your techniques become wasteful, your magic unstable."

She demonstrated a basic stance, her movements crisp despite the early hour. "Copy this position."

I shifted my feet, trying to mirror her stance. My trembling muscles made precision impossible, but I forced myself to continue adjusting until she gave a sharp nod.

"Hold it."

Sweat beaded on my forehead as I maintained the stance. Every muscle screamed for relief, but I kept my spine straight, shoulders locked in position. Lady Brunhilde walked around me, making minute corrections to my form.

"This is the first stance of seven," she said. "You will master each one before progressing to actual techniques. No shortcuts, no exceptions."

The sun crept higher as she kept me in that position, occasionally tapping my arms or legs to correct slight deviations. My body's limits became painfully clear with each passing minute.

"Your brother mastered these stances in two months," she said. "We have less than thirty days until the ceremony. The gap must be closed."

My legs gave out first. The stance collapsed as my knees buckled, sending me sprawling onto the frozen courtyard. Every muscle burned with exhaustion, but I forced myself back up, trembling.

"Resume position." Lady Brunhilde's commanded.

I got one foot under me, then the other. My shoulders screamed as I tried to straighten my spine, to find that perfect posture again. The world tilted slightly.

"Shoulders back."

I complied, or tried to. My vision blurred at the edges. The cold air felt distant now, replaced by a strange warmth spreading through my limbs. Still, I fought to maintain the stance.

"Feet wider."

The adjustment sent fresh waves of pain through my legs. I blinked hard, trying to focus on a single point ahead. My arms wouldn't stop shaking.

The courtyard spun lazily around me. Lady Brunhilde's voice seemed to come from far away. I tried to respond, but my tongue felt too heavy.

The ground rushed up to meet me. This time, I couldn't catch myself. As consciousness faded, I heard a single word:

"Good."

****

Sebastian watched as Lady Brunhilde knelt beside Isaac's unconscious form. The boy had pushed himself far beyond his poor limits.

"Three generations I've trained Eiskar nobles," she said. "Most quit after the first collapse. I expect he won't be like most."

Sebastian kept his face carefully neutral as he bent to gather Isaac's limp form. The boy weighed less than he should, though Sebastian noted new muscle definition beginning to form beneath the noble's training attire.

His hands detected lingering traces of ice magic, far more controlled than expected for someone of Isaac's supposed ability.

"Perhaps young master Isaac simply lacks the sense to quit," Sebastian replied, his tone perfectly measured to convey both respect and mild concern. He adjusted his grip, ensuring Isaac's head rested properly against his shoulder.

Lady Brunhilde's eyes narrowed slightly. "There's something different about this one. The way he pushes himself... it's not just stubbornness."

Sebastian inclined his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He'd served the family long enough to know when silence carried more weight than words.

Besides, he had his own observations about the recent changes in young master Isaac, observations he intended to keep to himself.

"I'll see him properly settled in his chambers, my lady," Sebastian said, already turning toward the manor's east wing.

Sebastian paused mid-step, keeping his back to Lady Brunhilde. In his arms, Isaac remained motionless save for the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"You are a good man, Sebastian Bifrost," Lady Brunhilde said.

Sebastian felt the weight of decades of service press against his shoulders. His gloved hands tightened fractionally around Isaac's small form.

"I serve House Eiskar as duty requires," he said, each word measured with perfect pitch and tone. The proper response of a butler, nothing more.

A sharp laugh cut through the courtyard. "No. You serve that boy as if he were your own blood."

Sebastian maintained his stance, neither turning nor responding. His face remained a mask of careful neutrality even though Lady Brunhilde couldn't see it. The habit of decades didn't break easily.

Sebastian adjusted his grip on Isaac, ensuring the boy's head remained properly supported. "My lady mistakes a butler's proper attention for something more significant."

"Do I?" The temperature dropped several degrees. "Tell me, Sebastian Bifrost, how many other butlers in this household can maintain a perfect ice shield while pretending to serve tea?"

His shoulders stiffened imperceptibly. She'd noticed. Of course she had - she was Lady Brunhilde after all. But he'd sworn to keep his true capabilities hidden, to better serve as Isaac's shadow.

"That is an interesting thought Lady Brunhilde, if only it were true. I do however need to get the young master to his quarters." With that, Sebastian turned and walked away, carrying Isaac through the manor's shadowed corridors. The boy's face remained peaceful in unconsciousness.

The sight reminded Sebastian of another young noble who had once pushed beyond his limits to prove his worth.

His own mother's words echoed in his memory: "We survive by being useful." She had taught him to hide his true nature.

The burning black flame that marked him as half-Ignaris was a secret he'd learned to mask beneath perfect ice magic and an even more perfect servant's demeanor.

Sebastian glanced down at Isaac's sleeping form. The changes in the young master went beyond mere determination.

Sebastian had noticed the careful restraint, the deliberate imperfection in his practice.

Reaching Isaac's chambers, Sebastian pushed the door open with his shoulder and laid the boy carefully on his bed. He removed Isaac's training boots with practiced efficiency.

The fresh scuff marks caught his attention. The young master had been practicing in secret, beyond even Lady Brunhilde's harsh regimen.

"You hide more than weakness," Sebastian murmured, adjusting a pillow beneath Isaac's head. He recognized the signs, the calculated failures, the masked potential.

These were tactics he'd employed in his own youth, when survival meant being overlooked rather than outstanding.

The perfect butler straightened, brushing invisible dust from his gloves. Whatever secrets young master Isaac harbored, Sebastian would ensure they remained hidden.

After all, he knew better than most how House Eiskar treated those who failed to meet exacting standards.