Captain Aldric Farrow's POV

He strode toward the kid, suppressing his anger, and said, “Kid, that’s not how you train with a sword. Stop before you hurt yourself.” His voice rang out sharper than he intended.

To his merit, the kid didn’t look scared at all. He even looked like he was satisfied. Locking eyes with him, the kid grinned and said, “Then show me how to do it.”

Wait. Did he just manipulate me into coming here? Farrow’s initial flicker of anger morphed into amusement. The kid is…clever. Huh…noble blood runs strong in him.

Outwardly, he feigned anger and barked, “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re far too young for me to train you personally.” Hah. Your trick didn’t work.

The bastard shrugged and smirked mischievously. He spun around, tossed the sword into the air, and caught it. Then, he resumed swinging the sword wildly. He’s at it again. A vein popped in Farrow’s head.

“Here, look…” The kid took an unusual stance, lowering his hips. “What do you think of this attack?” He launched himself up in the air and drove the sword’s tip into the ground.

“Descending Fang!”

The guard captain slapped his forehead. If any other kid dared to mock swordsmanship in his presence, he would’ve slapped them by now. In truth, only his loyalty to the lord restrained him from disciplining the bastard.

“It was awesome, right?” The kid flashed an innocent smile. “Nobody’s teaching me, so I’m inventing my own moves.”

“What did you say?” Farrow was furious. What should I do with the kid?

“Watch this, another technique…” The kid attempted to launch into a lunge but Farrow clamped down in his arms, halting him mid-motion.

“Alright, Alright…” Aldric released a heavy breath. Turning his head, he shouted, “Rowan, get over here.”

He noticed the boy’s gaze shifting to inspect his son, Rowan. There it is — That same calculating look in his eyes. Farrow shook his head and turned to face his son. “Teach him the basics…” Rowan grimaced but nodded once he saw the look of warning flash across his father’s eyes.

Captain Farrow turned back to face the kid. “There you go. I’ve taught him personally. Learn from him…” The boy’s face lit up with joy. He dipped his head and said, “Thank you.” Well, at least you know your manners. Let’s see if you’ve inherited your father’s talent as well.

***

When the captain of the guards departed, leaving him and Rowan alone, Alaric released a sigh. Frankly, the guard captain scared him a bit. Not mentally but the body of this child had a physiological reaction to seeing the powerful figure of the barrel-chested man. He had a ruddy complexion which matched the red of his hair.

His pockmarked face featured wide-set eyes that scrutinized your every movement. I wouldn’t want to be an enemy of that man.

His son, Rowan, shared the same red hair as his father. However, he had a tall and thin frame and a pristine face with calculating eyes. After observing him for some time, Alaric concluded that the kid was sharp. Perhaps a few years older than him.

Rowan behaved politely which indicated he was aware of Alaric’s status as a half-noble. He maintained a no-nonsense attitude which he probably inherited or learned from his father and straight away went to demonstrate the basic guard positions without much small talk. In their first training session together, Rowan instructed Alaric on how to hold the proper guard positions - high guard, low guard, and middle guard.

Apart from that, Rowan introduced him to a few basic strikes such as the basic overhand swing, side swing, and upward cut. When Alaric pressed him further, Rowan showcased his amazing footwork - advancing, retreating, and side steps. Overall, Alaric was pretty impressed by the kid.

His father had trained him well.

The stances were a little difficult to hold at first, thanks to the awkward flexibility of his child-like body. However, he adapted towards the end of the training session. In fact, he could replicate the guard positions on command, which seemed to please and even surprise Rowan.

For the rest of the training session, Alaric failed to spot the guard captain anywhere on the training grounds. He dismissed that thought. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that somebody was observing him from a hidden location. Alaric still couldn’t get used to the idea that somebody was monitoring his every action.

At first, he tried to ignore it but it quickly became annoying since it disrupted his focus.

On a side note, Alaric learned from Rowan that his father’s name was Aldric Farrow. Apparently, he used to be a member of an adventurer’s guild known as the ‘Twilight Hawk’. It was a regional guild with above-average adventurers in the northern area of the empire.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

He decided to investigate adventurers at a later date.

***

6 months later

Alaric had started to enjoy his new life. It was a little irritating, being trapped in the body of a child. It restricted his freedom to explore around the manor and into the city. In fact, once when he asked Elara to take him to the city, she told him that the lord would have to grant him permission. And, the likelihood of the lord permitting him to roam the city without an escort guard would be nil.

It turned out that his father denied his request. Apparently, Alaric would have to fulfill his role as a member of the family and earn his reward. He chuckled. Well, that seems fair. Although a little harsh. With so many guards around, he couldn’t spare a single guard for escorting me into the city?

Fortunately, his regular schedule granted him some sense of sanity and peace of mind. Exercising, training with Rowan, reading books in the library, and meditating took up the vast majority of the day. He noted that none of the maids and servants were eager to interact with him more than necessary. In fact, he noticed many of them deliberately avoiding him.

Only Elara interacted with him and made sure he was truly alive.

When he questioned Elara about that, he learned that apparently, the servants and maid were afraid of incurring the wrath of the countess. She despised Alaric and often requested the lord to put him to work in the stables so that he could earn his keep. Or expel him from the mansion and absolve the stain on his honor.

The Count disregarded her requests. He decreed that the bastard would stay, and his word was final.

However, everybody knew of the open hostility of the countess towards Alaric. Since his status - as a bastard - in the family was not ironed out, the servants and maids kept their distance. The lord neither favored Alaric nor dismissed him.

However, Alaric appreciated the fact that he was left to his own devices for now with a roof over his head, food to eat, and clothes on his body.

Still, he suspected that this was bound to change soon enough. Recently, he had detected that same sense of unease even while he was meditating in his bedroom. Somebody stealthy observing him. He eliminated that thought from his mind. It was no use worrying about things beyond your control.

It was almost noon and Alaric had just returned after completing his morning exercise and sword practice with Rowan. He retrieved a notebook and pen from the desk drawer and started recording his recent gains. It had become a habit of his to document his achievements for the day so that he could track his progress over time.

After logging down his performance for the day, he quickly scanned it.

Push-ups - 35

Sit-ups - 45

Squats - 60

Pull-ups - 10

Plank time - 2 min

400-meter timed lap - 1:45 min

Running -5 laps

Rope climbing - Reached the top today.

Overall, Alaric was satisfied with his progress. It was not amazing progress but still good progress. That would have to wait until his root chakra was properly purified. He settled down into the lotus posture and concentrated his attention inward. Focusing his attention at the base of his spine, he tuned out everything else.

After some time, he sensed a ball of warmth germinating on the base of the spine where the root chakra was supposed to dwell.

He still couldn’t visualize the chakras clearly but he could feel them. Hmm…my root chakra is halfway purified. Just a few more months. His other chakras were also being purified but those were not his focus at this time. His attention had also sharpened considerably.

Now, he could meditate straight for 20 minutes without any distractions. He still struggled to hold on to a single thought for more than a minute. However, he was more aware when his mind slipped from his object of focus and he redirected his attention back to it.

His object of focus being the base of the spine where the root chakra resided.

After completing his meditation session for the day, Alaric strode towards the library.

***

Count Eustace de Vermond's POV

It was early morning. The first layer of snowfall was just starting to descend around the manor. Winter had arrived. Count Eustace de Vermond reclined in his study poring over a few important documents. After reviewing the lot, he sorted a stack of documents and set them aside. With his usual precision, he began signing the remaining ones and stamping his house seal.

Somebody knocked on the door.

“Enter.” His silky voice echoed. The door didn’t budge. Instead, the head butler of the house — his most trusted confidant — materialized a few feet away, facing his desk with his head bowed.

“Lord, I have the report.” He extended a missive to the count. Eustace broke the seal and read through the contents. A smirk crept onto his face. “It looks like Valeran is scheming to stir up some trouble. He just can’t let go of the mines.” The butler and the lord locked eyes. Both of them grinned.

The count touched his necklace, which was embedded with a blue gemstone. It glowed faintly at his touch. A voice emerged from the other side. “My lord…”

“Come to my study.” The count commanded. After that, the count stretched his arms and eased into a more comfortable posture. He sipped some water and approached the window of his study that overlooked the knight’s training area. He massaged his aching back as he observed the jousting practice of the knights in the mounted combat area.

“Looks like I am getting old, Edgar.” The count remarked with a grin.

“Nonsense, my lord. Wait till you reach my age and then we’ll see,” The head butler retorted mockingly.

Both of them burst into laughter. Edgar Greyford, the head butler of the house, was a mysterious figure in the mansion. His authority was absolute, second only to that of the count, countess, and the legitimate heirs. He was in charge of all the servants and managed them with cold discipline, acting as the count’s direct liaison.

He also served as the economic manager of the residential estate. Thus, his responsibilities included all aspects of day-to-day logistics such as food procurement, payroll for staff, guard schedules, and household discipline. Kitchen stewards, footmen, cooks, maids, and servants — everybody was afraid of this enigmatic figure since he reported directly to the count.

However, he also had a secret role that only the captain of the guards and the knight-commander were aware of. He was an exceptionally powerful cultivator who acted as the count’s right-hand man. He was also his closest friend.

While the count resided in his mansion, the head butler operated as his personal bodyguard. While the count was away on visit, that responsibility was delegated to the knight commander and his squad of knights. During the count’s absence, the head butler became the de facto leader of the residential estate.

“Tell me, Edgar. How are the kids doing?” The count turned to listen to the head butler.