Alaric felt a surge of excitement, and a grin spread across his face. It was difficult to see properly from such a distance, but he was satisfied with what he witnessed. By his estimates, there were currently 30 to 50 guards training. He spotted other guards busy doing various activities such as transporting weapons or tending to their armor.
There must be even more guards on duty around the mansion. That is quite a lot. All of this indicated to him that the Count must be very wealthy and a shrewd administrator of his estate.
Suddenly, Alaric had the urge to train after witnessing all the guards practicing in the training grounds. A few simple push-ups should be fine. He lowered himself onto the ground with his palms pressed firmly against the floor, shoulder-width apart, and ankles drawn together in the center. With some effort, Alaric pushed with his palms, engaging his pectorals and bicep muscles.
He could barely do 5 push-ups before he felt exhausted.
Either this body is weaker than I thought or the sickness is still taking its toll. He gasped for air and felt lightheaded. After resting for a few moments, he decided to attempt another 5 push-ups. It was more difficult this time, his arms trembling with exhaustion and the initial burst of energy completely gone. His heart throbbed, and the dizziness intensified.
A sheen of sweat covered his body.
Just a few more. Alaric decided to try once again but he could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Breaking his posture, he scrambled back to his bed, lay down, and wrapped the blanket over himself. Moments later, Elara peeked into his room.
“Young master, did you eat well? How are you feeling now? Huh…” Elara scrunched her eyebrows in confusion.
Alaric gave a slight smile. “The food…was delicious.”
“Why are you sweating? And, you look like you are out of breath.” Elara rushed into the room and checked his temperature again.
“Sweet child, are you feeling sick again? Should I call for the physician?”
“No…no need. I’m fine, truly.” Alaric tried to reassure Elara who was overly concerned for his health. He was still a little out of breath.
“You don’t have a fever, but why are you so sweaty?” Suddenly a thought occurred to her. She placed her hands around her waist and glared at him softly. “Young master, were you up to some mischief?”
Alaric struggled to maintain his best poker face. Somehow, being scolded like a child was irritating and amusing at once. “Of course not. I was just watching the guards train outside.” He pointed towards the window.
Elara remained silent, waiting for him to continue. “I may have tried to exercise a little…” Alaric admitted in a meek voice. “To recover quickly,” he added when he noticed the glare on her face turning into a scowl.
Why am I acting like I did something wrong? It makes no sense.
Elara slapped her forehead. “You did what? I spent two weeks nursing you, praying to the Radiant Flame to cure your illness. Not eating or sleeping properly, worrying about you day and night. And now…the moment you feel a little better, you do this?” She gestured sharply with her hands. “Stress your body again? Do you think this is a joke?”
Alaric felt a sense of guilt crawl into his chest.
He was more worried about upsetting Elara, who had taken care of him during his illness, than getting sick again. She had a point, though. Exercising and stressing his body before he recovered fully could land him into his bed again. And, that would delay his progress even longer.
“You’re right. I didn’t realize…I am sorry.” Alaric shook his head. “I promise I won’t exercise again until I’ve recovered fully,” he said with a look of embarrassment. What else could he say? That he couldn’t wait to get stronger or that he felt excited watching the guards train? Those reasons wouldn’t make sense to Elara.
At the acknowledgment of his mistake, Elara seemed to calm down a bit and her features softened. It seemed she was preparing to try to make him understand the error of his ways. To counter the excuses Alaric would say in order to avoid being reprimanded.
However, contrary to her expectations, Alaric admitted his fault and even apologized to her. Bastard or not, somebody with noble blood in their veins never apologized to maids. For the first time, Elara sensed something different about Alaric. She couldn’t quite explain it yet but it made her feel odd.
“You really mean what you said?” She looked intently.
“I do.” Alaric nodded solemnly.
A kind smile graced her face. It looked like the nurturing side of her won over the side that was frustrated. She couldn’t stay upset at Alaric any longer and nodded approvingly.
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She dragged a chair to the bed and sat down. “Here, I came to read you your favorite story.” She opened a book titled, “The Adventures of the Dungeon Explorers” and began narrating it to him. Alaric released a sigh, happy to have eased Elara’s worry.
He settled down comfortably on his bed and tuned into the story - which, surprisingly - sounded interesting due to her storytelling skills.
This must be a part of our regular routine. Well, this is not so bad…Training can wait till later.
----------------------------------------
Captain Aldric Farrow's POV
“Swing your swords harder, you dumb wits. Didn’t your momma feed you as a child?” Captain Aldric Farrow bellowed at the squad of new recruits assembled for training. They had been at it for only an hour and already, he could spot many of the wannabe guards dripping with sweat and faltering significantly.
He felt irritated but couldn’t really blame them. Being a soldier or a guard took time. You couldn’t master it in only a few weeks of training. Besides, they were all working their asses off for honest coin.
Still, it didn’t do anything to improve his mood watching the imperfect forms and exhaustion of his new squad of guards. How am I supposed to rely on them when the enemy strikes? He shook his head.
Captain Farrow had served Count Eustace de Vermond - lord of Montreval - for the past few years. After retiring as an adventurer, he took the position of the Captain of the guards of House Vermond, and it had been smooth sailing for the most part. It was peaceful in this area, south of the kingdom, with almost no conflicts over territory between the nobles.
Sure, a few thugs and bandits dared to try their luck at looting the border territories, but the Lord swiftly crushed them by deploying his squad of knights.
The most he had to fear in all these years was when a group of thugs attempted to storm the manor treasury while Lord Vermond was out on some mission with his squad of knights. The fools bit off more than they could chew. They severely underestimated the houseguards and paid the price for it.
Well, all that changed when Lord Vermond acquired the rights to the ‘Greyheaven’ mana mines that shared a border with his northern territory and the southern territory of Count Valeran de Clairmont. Apparently, Count Clairmont had been illegally exploiting the ‘Greyheaven’ mana mines prior to that incident.
Now, he could do nothing legally as the order had been sanctioned by the Royal Council.
Count Clairmont was a nasty man and vindictive by nature. At first, he tried to negotiate for the mines with Lord Vermond. When that didn’t work, he subtly threatened the lord. The audacity of that scum... The wretched count wouldn’t dare to attack his estate while Lord Vermond was present with his knights. However, the lord had to leave frequently for important missions.
He predicted that Count Clairmont would use the lord’s absence and strike the estate with his squad of knights. He could chalk up some excuse later since there would be no higher authority present at the manor during the lord’s absence.
Lord Vermond, being the shrewd man he was, doubled the number of guards around the mansion for that reason. And now, Captain Farrow had to forge these greenhorns into capable defenders before an attack or invasion could happen.
He scrutinized the forms of the trainee guards for a few moments before calling his vice-captain, Garret Holt. There was nobody Farrow trusted more than Garret, who was almost as formidable as him despite being much younger and far less experienced. Garret arrived and saluted Farrow.
“At your service, Captain Farrow”.
Captain Farrow turned around to face him. “You take over. If anybody breaks form…” he spun around, “make them do 50 push-ups.” The trainee guards flashed looks of fear and began practicing their swings more meticulously. Farrow chuckled.
“As you command, captain.” Garret faced the trainee guards and began barking orders.
Farrow strode towards the garden and sat on a bench that faced the mansion. He took out an apple from his storage bag and bit on it, savoring the juicy taste. Hmm..delicious. It had almost become a routine for him to retreat to the garden at this time. He gazed upwards, and there he was…the boy peering intently while leaning on his windowsill.
He had heard that the bastard had been sick for a few days but had recovered now, somehow. However, he had strict orders from the physician to not leave his room for a few days. At first, Farrow assumed the bastard was simply bored.
Who wouldn’t be when they are stuck in their rooms while they have the energy to roam around?
However, he had noticed the bastard scrutinizing the training of the guards for the past four days. That was not the part that unsettled him. It was the look in his eyes. Even from this distance, Captain Farrow could clearly see the sparkle and look of intense focus on those child-like eyes. It was eerie, as if the boy was trying to soak up every detail.
More than once, he saw him mimicking movements, as if swinging an imaginary sword at an invisible enemy.
Farrow straightened and chuckled. Another noble brat charmed by the legends of knights and soldiers. He will get bored eventually. He shook his head and got up. There was important work to do.
***
Alaric was curious. He liked watching the guards train, swinging their swords, and drilling their combat moves. It was only a shame he still couldn’t visit the training grounds and practice on his own. His body was still weak. Exercising for more than ten minutes was enough to sap the air from his lungs and invite intense physical exhaustion.
Fortunately, he was getting better.
He had never trained in sword fighting before. His path had been different in his old life. In this life, he wanted to try it. Do something different. Also, he had a suspicion that being a noble now — albeit a half-blood — he would be challenged to duels to settle personal and formal disputes.
Like any other noble. So, it was essential to learn the art of sword fighting. His suspicion had some basis of fact, based on the stories of chivalry and noble honor that Elara had shared with him over the past few days.
Well, he was up for a challenge, especially one that would help him to purify his Root Chakra.