Gabriel grew increasingly restless as he pondered the true intentions behind the king’s invitation to court. The uncertainty rendered him unable to think clearly, driving him to clear his head in the now-familiar confines of the training yard late in the night.

Books had always provided an escape for Gabriel, but this time, they would only deepen his introspection, stirring questions he wasn't prepared to answer about himself. And so, Gabriel found himself instinctively gripping a training sword, seeking solace in its firmness against his palms. The cool touch of the hilt and reassuring weight of the sword acted as a counterbalance to the overwhelming weight of uncertainty that burdened his mind. The solidity grounded him, bringing him to the present, reminding him of the tangible world amidst the intangible doubts that plagued his thoughts.

Gabriel struck at the wooden training dummy, his movements carrying a fierce intensity. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and labored gasps punctuated the air as his muscles worked tirelessly. With each powerful strike, he found a cathartic release, an outlet for the pent-up emotions gnawing at him. His anger gave strength to his swings; his worry lent agility to his thrusts. The sword became a conduit for his emotions, channeling them into precise, controlled bursts of energy.

Gabriel no longer held back. He embraced the art of combat, embracing the raw power and artistry it offered. At that moment, the training yard became a battlefield of emotions, as if the very space had transformed into a canvas of his internal struggles. The rhythmic clash of sword against wood seemed to echo the symphony of his soul.

He moved the sword around his body, thrusting and swinging with a tempo that bordered on madness. It traversed high and low, left and right, each swing carrying its own unique cadence. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the sharp swoosh of the blade slicing through space. Its relentless momentum fueled a growing crescendo, and as Gabriel swung, he could hear the haunting song of the sword, a lingering, shrill melody.

Lost in his intense focus, Gabriel remained oblivious to the approaching footsteps from behind. “I didn’t realize you had such passion for the sword,” came a voice. Startled, Gabriel turned to find Ser Rodrick leaning against a pillar, arms crossed. Gabriel wondered how long he had been watching him.

Gabriel's breath heaved, his body spent. He felt exposed, realizing that fear had played a role in his decision to withhold his full potential.

“Why do you hold back in training?” Ser Rodrick asked, cocking his head to the side.

Gabriel recalled his self-imposed promise to not apply himself in the training yard. Until now, he had never pushed himself to swing a sword with such intensity. He had been determined while running, eager to go further each day, but the sword was different. He understood the wrongness of wielding the weapon with full force. It seemed to ready him to incite violence, the feeling frightened him. But now, he was beginning to realize that he feared he might enjoy the violence—and the release it offered. The aggression inherent in wielding a sword terrified him, and he struggled to articulate his reservations.

Hesitating, Gabriel revealed some of his inner turmoil. “I... I don't want to become a warrior,” he finally admitted. “Inflicting harm upon others goes against everything I believe in.”

Ser Rodrick uncrossed his arms, and compassion graced his features. “You fear becoming a killer. You fear that the sword may consume you,” he said, “but hear me, Gabriel. Being a warrior is not inherently evil. It is an honorable path, for, with a sword, you can protect just as much as you can harm.” Gabriel listened intently, apprehensively.

Ser Rodrick continued, “When the raiders from the Eastern Continent attack our shores, who will save the innocent? The women and children? Will they be better off being slaughtered with no one to protect them?” He shook his head. “Being a warrior is about being a shield for the people. The kingdom needs someone like you. Someone who doesn't seek violence, but who can wield a sword to safeguard their lives.”

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Gabriel knew Ser Rodrick spoke true; the raids had become more frequent over the last decade. The Eastern enemies were savages that killed everyone they came across. His words resonated with Gabriel; he understood the reality. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that his soul would be sullied by taking the life of another. He didn't want to become a general.

When Leoman ascended to the throne, his ambition and thirst for blood would inevitably plunge the kingdom into war after war. As the third born son he would be expected to serve and lead the armies. However, he couldn't ignore the injustice that would accompany those conflicts. He would lead men to be killed in wars that never needed to be fought in the first place. He would be forced to order the killing of men whose only crime was being born in another kingdom.

I’ll do everything I can to avoid being put in that position. But it doesn’t mean I can’t continue to hone my skills. He feared the burden of bloodshed that would rest upon him. And so, he would feign weakness, to never reveal any proficiency he gained. He had to be more careful about practicing going forward. I can’t let anyone see me like this again.

“I understand your struggle, Gabriel. You have a unique spirit, one that yearns for something beyond the realm of battle. But remember, being a warrior does not define who you are entirely. It is a part of you, a tool you can choose to wield in service of a greater purpose.”

“I can't bear the weight of bloodshed and the consequences it brings.” Gabriel's voice wavered.

Ser Rodrick placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It is our honor to protect and serve. We must use all the weapons we have. The mind is as powerful as a sword, which is why the kingdom needs someone who thinks with this first.” He tapped his index finger against the side of Gabriel’s head. “Use that brain of yours. Think about how many you can save. A true warrior is not defined solely by their sword, but by their character, their dedication, and their willingness to fight for what they believe in.”

Gabriel looked at Ser Rodrick. “I will do everything I can to protect the people.”

He then voiced a question that had been nagging at him. “Why were you so harsh on me?”

Ser Rodrick met Gabriel's gaze and offered a solemn response. “You needed to learn.”

Gabriel pressed further. “Learn what?”

“That nothing in this world is fair.”

Gabriel let his words sink in, grappling with the profound truth. Life was often unfair, and in the midst of chaos and adversity, one had to stand their ground.

But Gabriel persisted, unsatisfied with the answer. “Why did you pit me against my only friend in the yard on the first day?”

Ser Rodrick said, “You needed to be taught to never depend on someone else and to understand that your sword is your ultimate protector. In this world, you can receive a knife from a friend just as easily as a sword from an enemy.” The master winced as if recalling a painful memory.

With a subtle shake of his head, Ser Rodrick continued, “And Lovren needed to be taught to be ruthless when commanded, as is the way of soldiers.”

Gabriel paused, processing. “But then, the next day, why did you have me face ten men, including Rufus? How was I supposed to learn from that?”

“You weren't meant to defeat them,” he said. “Those boys would have overwhelmed you, finding other ways to harm you. At least in that controlled environment, under my watchful eye, they were instructed not to inflict severe harm. You also learned that life doesn't always offer fair odds, and you must fight on regardless.”

Gabriel sought to make sense of the lessons. While he didn't fully grasp everything, he recognized the value of the master's teachings. He realized that Ser Rodrick was more than he appeared to be, behind his harshness there was a wisdom he was only scratching at.

“You possess an unexpected strength of will that few would have anticipated. I see how you push yourself when you run, how you keep standing up when you're pushed down, and how you persevere when faced with adversity. Don't let go of that,” Ser Rodrick remarked.

Gabriel nodded. A long time passed with neither of them speaking a word.

“So, will you devote yourself fully in the training yard, giving your utmost effort?” the master inquired.

He knew he couldn't deceive Ser Rodrick, as the master would easily spot any falsehood. He had grown to respect the arms teacher, appreciating his firmness and wisdom.

Gabriel spoke the only truth he knew for certain. “No. I can never be what the kingdom wants me to become.”