4 Weeks After

Today, Alaric set another record. He woke up at 6:30 am once again, for the fourth consecutive day. It was difficult, at first, trying to escape the clutches of sleep. Breakfast was usually served at around 8 am, and naturally, the kids were woken up by the maids 15 minutes prior to that. Not that there was any strict schedule.

According to his knowledge, Edwin and Lucien usually woke up after 9 am.

Regardless, he tried to wake up a little bit earlier each day. There was so much to accomplish. So much to learn. Besides, the adults woke up much sooner. The servants awoke as early as 5:30 am to prepare the meals, clean the stable and grounds, fetch water, and complete other chores. The guards started their training at 7 am.

So, it made no sense to sleep longer and miss out on all the fun.

Once Elara noticed that he started waking earlier than usual, she grew concerned. Alaric eased her worries and simply explained that it had become a habit. Since Alaric was not sick anymore, she gave up trying to convince him to sleep a little longer.

When that didn’t work, she instructed the maids to have their breakfast ready earlier than the other kids.

Alaric marched into the training grounds and claimed his usual spot. By now, the guards had noticed his daily training regimen and decided to leave him to his own devices. And, he was grateful for that. Luckily, nobody tried to dissuade him or cause any trouble. He was the lord’s son after all, even though he was just a bastard.

He took his position on the ground and powered through push-ups. It had become a lot easier. Now, he could do about 15 push-ups at one go without getting out of breath. Once done with the push-ups, he advanced to squats and sit-ups.

Afterward, he went to the resting area and eyed the section with the rope. Today, he decided to attempt rope climbing exercises and pull-ups. He approached the rope climbing area and waited for his turn. There was one guard currently climbing the rope while two others lounged, having completed their climb for the day.

One guard eyed him and said, “Young master, this exercise isn’t for kids.” He chuckled. “If you fall, you could break your bones.” Alaric saw real concern in the guard’s eyes. Sure, if I injure myself while under your supervision, the guard captain will skin you alive.

Alaric found it amusing but outwardly, he feigned an innocent expression.

“Really?” He blurted. Then, acting as if an idea struck him, he added, “It’s good you guys are here then, right?”

The guards exchanged glances. “Us?” One pointed a finger at himself. “We can’t babysit you. We are busy,” he said smugly.

Alaric tilted his head in mock confusion. “Aren’t the houseguards supposed to protect the lord and his family?”

“Well, yes…that is…but—”

Alaric dipped his head in a small bow. “Thank you for your service. Please take care of me.” That seemed to appease the guard. He simply glanced at the other guard and shrugged. Alaric extended a hand for a shake. “I’m Alaric.” The guard noticed the tiny hand and shook it. “Fenrir,” He pointed toward the other guard and said, “This is Theon.”

Once the guard climbing the rope was done, he ignored the group and left the scene. Alaric ignored him. He approached the thick rope and grabbed it with his tiny arms. He almost couldn’t form a grip around it.

With an intense effort, he tried to lift himself off the ground but failed miserably.

Exhaling a sigh, he eyed Fenrir. “Can you lift me off the ground so that I can grab the upper portion of the rope?” Fenrir shrugged, grabbed Alaric under the shoulders, and lifted him up. When Alaric grabbed the rope, Fenrir released him but kept his arm underneath. ready to catch him if he fell.

Alaric gripped the rope with all his might. He felt pain and heat in his forearms and shoulders. Even hanging onto the rope was difficult at his current strength. His grip was slipping. Alaric mentally counted the seconds. 4…5…6. Just a little more. His fingers ached under the strain.

“Keep holding, young master,” Fenrir encouraged him. “You can do it.”

7…8…9…10. Ugh. Done. Alaric released his grip. Fenrir caught him and eased him onto the ground.

“That was good for your first try.” Theon had a look of approval on his face which matched Fenrir’s own. Apparently, neither of them expected Alaric to hold on to the rope for as long as he did.

“Thank you for helping me,” Alaric said. Fenrir flashed a smile. Looks like he was happy being acknowledged. Using that chance, Alaric asked Fenrir to lift him up so that he could grab hold of a wooden support beam. Perhaps he could attempt some pull-ups. Fenrir agreed to help.

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Reaching the indoor area took a few minutes. Even Theon came along to check his form. Apparently, Theon and Fenrir were both senior sergeants who oversaw the north and east wings. And, they were good friends.

Fenrir helped Alaric grip the edge of the wooden support beam. Alaric’s tiny fingers struggled to clamp down on the thick support beam. When Fenrir released him, he immediately felt the strain on his fingers and shoulders. He let go after hanging for only about 5 seconds.

Alaric exhaled a sigh. Looks like I have to build more strength with the rope climbing exercise before I’m ready for pull-ups.

“Young master…we have to go,” Fenrir hesitated. “We really have work to do.”

“No problem,” Alaric nodded once again. “I appreciate the help.” Of course, they were busy. They were senior sergeants, after all.

Fenrir and Theon went their separate way while Alaric strode toward the sword swing zone. It is time I picked up a wooden sword. Alaric had noticed a few other boys his age mock-fighting with wooden swords. Perhaps they were the children of the guards and such.

One boy, a little older than his age, stood out amongst them. Nobody challenged him while he was drilling sword forms with a dark brown wooden sword. Hmm, that wooden sword looks heavy. He has good focus and form. Currently, he was battering the wooden dummies with a ferocious look on his face. His red hair gleamed in the sun.

Alaric didn’t know his name but he surmised the boy was probably the son of the guard captain since he also had fiery crimson hair.

Alaric approached the weapons rack and selected a small, wooden sword. After slicing it through the air a few times, he deemed it suitable for his use. Hmm…not quite as heavy as I thought it would be. Alaric strode towards a wooden dummy with a look of determination. The wooden dummy looked more impressive from up close.

It was clad in armor and matched the height of human soldiers to replicate their form.

He gently struck the wooden dummy and felt the force reverberate through his forearms and shoulders. Just a simple strike made his arms throb with a dull discomfort. He couldn’t imagine what would have happened if he had struck it with full force.

Yep, not ready yet. I should practice my forms first.

Alaric had fought many masters who followed the path of the sword. They were geniuses who wielded the sword as if it were an extension of their own body. There was no rhyme or reason to their forms and techniques. At that level, it was instinctual. You couldn’t predict it or even counter it without raw power.

The sword form he saw the guards drilling was different. It consisted of basic moves that everybody practiced until it became second nature. He wasn’t sure how effective those rigid forms and movements would be when fighting with a real enemy, but he decided to learn them first.

Primarily, his intention for learning sword fighting was to become proficient at dueling.

After observing the guards drilling the same sword forms again and again, he memorized some of the patterns. With that in mind, he began swinging his wooden sword, visualizing striking at an enemy in front of him. He felt out of breath and his arms burned with fatigue only after a couple of swings. He let out a chuckle.

So, it’s not as easy as it looks. No matter. I will improve with time.

His body engaged muscles he had never used before, and he felt his form was incorrect. How I wish there was somebody who could spot my mistakes and offer me the proper guidance.

Alaric spotted the guard captain frown at him. What’s his problem? He noticed the captain grimace as he swung his sword once more. Wait…is my poor form irritating him? He chuckled. Well, in that case… Alaric began to thrash the wooden sword left and right as if he were slicing through hordes of monsters. He exaggerated his movements and ignored his stance. He deliberately overreached and swung with a sloppy posture.

It didn’t take long. After only about a few minutes, he saw the captain marching toward him, his face twisted into a nasty scowl.

***

Captain Farrow POV

Captain Aldric Farrow didn’t expect the bastard to maintain interest in physical exercise for as long as he did. After all, he had seen many kids dabble in training only to abandon it within a few days. It took even more discipline to exercise regularly without the oversight of an instructor. Sure, there were other kids his age who “trained” in the yard, but their version of training was nothing more than “play fighting”.

Kids, merely pretending to be knights and fighting imaginary monsters. The bastard was different. He arrived every day and diligently followed his training regimen. Push-ups, sit-ups, squats, followed by running and sometimes, sprinting. And, after about a month, he was already showing small signs of improvement. He could complete more push-ups and endure longer runs now.

Captain Farrow enjoyed watching the bastard struggling every day to improve his strength. The kid had potential. In fact, he noticed Fenrir and Theon assisting him with rope climbing today. Kids with noble blood shouldn’t train here. The lord ought to have him study under the house combat instructor. He shrugged. What do I know? Perhaps the lord has his reasons.

Captain Farrow kept his distance from the kid since he wanted to avoid any sort of drama. The bastard’s status in the household was still unclear to everyone. It would shift dramatically depending on whether the lord favored him or not. As a result, Farrow wasn’t sure how much respect to show him.

All that changed when the kid began swinging his swords. It was exasperating to watch such a promising child swing his sword with such sloppy technique and flawed posture. The Lord will have him study under the house instructor. He kept telling himself that.

After all, the count had eyes and ears throughout the entire estate, and nothing within his mansion escaped his notice. News of the bastard’s strange behavior must’ve reached him by now. He’s simply choosing to overlook it for god knows what reason.

He reigned in his irritation and simply observed the bastard from a distance. Then, suddenly, the kid locked eyes with him for a moment and smirked. After that, he transformed into a complete dumbwit, flailing his sword without any semblance of technique or purpose. He couldn’t bear to look at the spectacle.

It was almost as if the kid was doing it on purpose—deliberately trying to provoke him. The guard captain couldn’t take it anymore. The art of the sword is sacred. If you’re going to practice it, then you have to do it properly.