Count Valeran's POV

It was drizzling lightly outside the Count’s manor. A storm loomed in the distance, and sharp flashes of lightning illuminated the night sky for a few brief moments. Count Valeran was sipping his favorite red wine in his study.

His personal guard — Knight Commander Reynard De Fonce — stood by his side, poised and vigilant, his hand resting gently on the pommel of his sword.

A man cloaked in shadowy black garments and a demonic mask obscuring his face was currently conversing with the count. He belonged to a mysterious organization, which was like a double-edged sword for the count.

On one hand, the count had profited enormously, by trading mana stones mined from the ‘Greyheaven’ mana mines. However, it also painted a target on his back, especially if his involvement with the group was exposed to the Imperial investigators.

Count Valeran didn’t know much about this mysterious organization. He suspected the group operated in illegal dealings, and probing too deeply was a gamble he dared not take. However, if there was one thing that the count liked about this mysterious organization, it was their ability to pay on time.

In fact, they always provided an advance to incentivize their partners

When news of the ‘Greyheaven’ mana mines slipping from his grip reached his ears, he feared the worst. He had already accepted a hefty advance from his ‘business associates’ and believed their enforcers would arrive to settle accounts soon.

In reality, Count Valeran had already squandered the money and had no means to pay them back. So, he steeled himself for the worst.

However, it seemed the group was already informed and assured him he had nothing to fear. Legally, nothing could be done under the orders of the ‘Royal Council’. However, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try to recoup their losses through other means.

Valeran had already attempted to instigate a plan to close down the mines a few months ago. However, he had underestimated Count Eustace. The cunning man must have had spies embedded within his operations.

It had to be the case. How else could they have deployed a full squad of knights and mercenaries precisely when his forces arrived at the mines?

No confrontation took place and no blood was spilled. Both houses would have suffered considerable losses if an open battle was to break out. But the message was clear — his opponent was one step ahead of him. It irritated him, but he accepted his defeat.

He even resolved to pay off his debt to the organization in small installments.

Now, suddenly, the organization sends somebody to ‘assist’ him. He didn’t appreciate it. And, he didn’t trust them. So, although Valeran put up a calm facade, fear churned inside him. It was the presence of Knight Commander Reynard De Fonce by his side that allowed him to keep his wits.

“Count Eustace is scheduled to depart for the Imperial Capital in a few weeks,” the masked man rasped, his voice dissolving like smoke in the air. “We will infiltrate his study and extract any potentially incriminating information.”

“Isn’t that too risky? He’s doubled his guard detail. And, while the Knight Commander might be absent, Captain Aldric Farrow is no easy opponent either.”

“You need not concern yourself with our methods,” the man interjected sharply. He was clearly underestimating the forces of Count Eustace. Valeran chose to remain quiet.

Either they would succeed or they wouldn’t. As long as I remained uninvolved, it didn’t matter.

“We will hand over the compromising information to you. Use it to negotiate with the count and reclaim the mines.”

The count couldn’t fathom why the organization was so adamant about acquiring the mines. There were countless mana mines scattered across the northern regions. With their resources, securing a steady supply of mana stones should have been trivial. He merely shrugged and nodded in acknowledgment.

The man dissolved into a swirling mist of smoke, vanishing into the shadows.

***

Captain Aldric Farrow could only dedicate 30 minutes of his demanding schedule each day to instructing Alaric in the advanced sword arts forms. However, in every session, Alaric learned more than he could glean in an entire week poring over sword art manuals in the library.

Training with him was extremely hectic. It was nothing like sparring with his friend, Rowan.

Whenever Alaric thought he had mastered a basic move such as a simple strike, slash, or cut, the captain introduced new variations. These weren’t all orthodox forms. In fact, the orthodox forms served merely as a guideline — a foundation to infuse one’s understanding of the art and combine it with instincts.

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“React faster,” Captain Farrow bellowed, swinging a wooden sword at him. Alaric barely deflected the strike, the force of the blow numbing his hands and nearly wrenching the sword from his grip. It always took him a moment to recover and launch a counter-swing. However, in that brief opening, the captain struck him softly at three vital points.

It didn’t even seem like the man was trying. No wonder Rowan would be so formidable if he had endured such harsh training.

Beyond standard strikes, thrusts, and chops, the captain demonstrated a specialized technique — the glancing blow — where one struck at an angle. This maneuver was used to disorient the opponent or set up follow-up attacks.

Not surprisingly, Captain Farrow was not a fan of deception and trickery techniques, except for the simple feint. He believed in overpowering his foes with raw skill and strength. However, for the sake of Alaric’s education, he demonstrated a handful of deceptive techniques, including body feints, false retreats, and blind spot attacks.

Understanding these tricks was essential to avoid being caught off guard by cunning adversaries.

“Now, I’ll show you something no official martial instructor would ever teach noble kids,” Captain Farrow said with a sly smirk. “Take your position.”

Alaric didn’t like the sound of that or the gleam in the captain’s eyes. His instincts were right. When Alaric launched a strike, the captain effortlessly blocked with one hand, seized Alaric’s sleeve with the other, and yanked him forward. Alaric was nearly lifted off his feet, but he managed to tilt his head just in time, narrowly avoiding the sword’s point.

“Oh, you managed to not get hit,” the captain said, a mild surprise flashing across his face before he grinned. Sharp pain flared from Alaric’s left foot and shot up his leg.

Dirty bastard! Captain Farrow exploited Alaric’s brief lapse in focus to deliver a sneaky strike.

The captain released him, and Alaric immediately began rubbing his aching foot. “That’s not fair.” Alaric protested aloud, although he wasn’t really angry at the captain. His instructor was simply demonstrating that enemies could play dirty.

“Remember, kid, such tactics would result in an instant disqualification in an official duel match,” the captain said grimly. “But, real enemies don’t play by any rules. In a life-or-death battle, they fight dirty.” His eyes darkened briefly as if recalling a distant memory.

Then he shook his head. “I’ve seen plenty of talented duelists die because they expected honor from their opponents. Enemies who didn’t follow rules.”

Alaric knew that to be true as well. Fighting in duels bound by rules and regulations was completely different from fighting for survival. No matter how talented or skilled, one could lose their life in the blink of a second due to one moment of carelessness or misplaced trust.

“That will be it for today. Go on, practice with Rowan.” The captain ordered. With that, the intimidating man departed, leaving Alaric to seek out Rowan.

***

It didn’t take long to locate Rowan, who was engrossed in refining his footwork skills. It was odd for both of them when they initially reunited after the exam.

Apparently, Rowan hadn’t wanted to hold back against Alaric, aiming to acknowledge his strength and show him the proper respect. It was also an examination. So, treating it casually like in a sparring session could have been considered cheating.

However, his biggest reason was his desire to impress his father by demonstrating how much he had progressed over the years. Alaric could relate to that. What caught him by surprise was Rowan’s guilty expression when he admitted feeling somewhat envious of him.

Well, not exactly envious of Alaric himself, but of the speed at which he was advancing. Alaric wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

But he harbored no bad feelings towards Rowan. In fact, he appreciated the fact that Rowan took him seriously and didn't hold back. After all, it was the challenge that finally allowed him to surpass the hurdle of purifying his root chakra. Now, it felt like their bond had grown even stronger.

It had become a daily ritual for them to spar and analyze each other’s forms and techniques after Alaric concluded his sword training sessions. He was advancing at an incredible pace after purifying his root chakra. Alaric was channeling the root chakra energy to enhance all of his physical attributes, and the results were already apparent.

He got tired less quickly and moved with greater agility. His strength remained unchanged, but that would improve over time.

When Rowan spotted Alaric, he immediately lunged at him. Alaric deflected his strike and launched a counter-attack. Rowan parried it effortlessly. He began circling Alaric, and the pattern of his movement revealed an obvious baiting maneuver.

Hah…he thinks I’ll fall for it.

Alaric was tempted to exploit the weak spot, but it was too obvious — at least for somebody as capable as Rowan. When Rowan realized Alaric wasn’t biting, he unleashed a rapid flurry of thrusts.

Alaric dodged, blocked, or redirected each blow. Rowan had already shown improvement in just a few days. His father must have taught him some new tricks. He employed deceptive footwork and more than once, Alaric prepared to defend against an expected strike only for Rowan to suddenly shift direction.

It was more than a simple feint; Rowan fully committed to the movement to make it convincing.

Midway through the spar, Rowan attempted to disrupt Alaric’s rhythm by striking at uneven intervals. The irregular tempo caught Alaric off guard a couple of times, but his battle instincts enabled him to evade a decisive hit.

Alaric tried to inch toward Rowan in an attempt to dominate the center line, but he wasn’t having it. Rowan’s impeccable footwork allowed him to maintain the optimum range for both striking and defending.

“Where is that energy and strength you flaunted during the exam, Alaric?” Rowan teased. “Looks like it was just luck rather than skill.” More than once, Rowan had attempted to provoke Alaric into displaying that extraordinary strength he’d shown during the exam.

However, Alaric hadn’t repeated such feats during their sparring sessions. Of course, Rowan wasn’t fighting at full capacity either.

I’m sorry, my friend. I’m not wasting my precious energy just to teach you a lesson. Alaric smirked and replied, “You need to work on your taunts a little more. They’re falling flat.” He sidestepped another strike. “Besides, I can defeat you anytime I want. But where’s the fun in that?”

“Really?” A grim look crossed Rowan’s face. “Let’s see you handle this.”

Suddenly, Rowan slashed his sword in a diagonal arc, aiming high at Alaric’s head. The strike carried far more force than before. Instead of blocking it, Alaric chose to duck and sidestep. However, Rowan twisted his sword at the last moment and slammed the point against Alaric’s hand, disarming him.