Klarion almost came to regret the eagerness of his reply to his escorts, that they not go easy on him. They took him at his word, starting in the first hour of the rest of the journey. What he had thought initially would be a short journey was quickly proven wrong. Exhausted and more sore than he could ever remember being outside of his physical therapy, he had asked Alesin how many days they had before they arrived at their destination.
She had responded that they still had about two weeks to go.
Relief that he had more time to learn from them quickly turned to numb horror after how intense the night’s exercises ended up being. And they had gotten him up even earlier to start the next leg of the journey. Each day they traveled through the dense, shadowed trees was more grueling than the last. Even step was heavier than the one that came before, his muscles screaming in protest at the relentless pace set by the sun elf and half-ogre. He couldn’t even zone out, either. Every hour spent moving from one campsite to the next was spent drilling into him as much as they could tell him about life in the Empire and what he would need to know to fit in to some degree. Klarion tried his best to pay attention as much as he could, especially because the information they shared was often followed by quizzes, but he half-suspected that he had forgotten more than he had memorized. At one of his lower points, he had admitted as such to Alesin. She had confessed to him that he was actually exceeding what they expected him to retain, given the rigorous pace they set. For the span of a few minutes, that had made him feel better, but then the pain of the pace Rolfun set had washed that feeling away.
The only thing worse than traveling with the experienced bondsmen of his family’s House was the training in the evenings once they stopped to set up camp. At least an hour every night was spent learning the rudimentary ways of wielding his new greatsword. Even when he couldn’t lift his arms anymore, Rolfun had insisted he could continue practicing how to dodge his strikes. And when he could no longer dodge his strikes, the half-ogre would push him to do physical exercises until every single one of his already aching muscle groups felt like they had been pushed past human endurance.
And it did not end there either.
When he wasn’t physically practicing with Rolfun, Alesin had him running a wide range of mental exercises to deal with various combat scenarios. From the start she had emphasized the importance of learning everything about his enemies possible, whether that be through thorough research and preparation or simply astute observation if he was suddenly attacked. Simple scenarios quickly turned complex, and he was gradually taught the different ways to use terrain and the environment to gain an advantage. She even began teaching him about the fundamentals of what combat with those who could use magic could look like. Those last ones he particularly struggled with. Without having experienced magic before and missing so much knowledge on it that many nobility were exposed to from a young age, it was just taking him a longer time to fully grasp. With how much she grilled him, Klarion was just as mentally exhausted as he was physically so by the end of each night.
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The only reason he was able to survive the trip, let alone continue the training they subjected him to, was the fact that Alesin and Rolfun had a supply of what they called minor healing potions that he drank every night after dinner before he was carried to bed. Within seconds of drinking them, the pain and soreness faded to a dull ache, and his mind eased enough that he could fall asleep. He didn’t remember many of the dreams from those nights, which probably was a good thing, given how much he needed a good night’s sleep. What he did remember, however, were all the thoughts he had before he fell asleep.
He would be lying there, bundled up in the tent that Alesin or Rolfun had set up for him, wondering if he could truly keep up. The new world he was in was so very different, and given what Alesin and Rolfun were trying to teach him, so much larger than he had imagined would be possible. The Imperial Academy loomed in his thoughts like a distant storm. Each day it came closer, and he still had no real clue how to navigate the intricacies of being a noble and a high-ranking one at that. And once he got there, he would be surrounded by those who had at least a decade of preparation and an entire lifetime living under the System.
Worse were the thoughts that continued to plague him that he was falling behind where he needed to be in order to help Earth when it was Integrated into the System. His family and friends were completely unprepared, just as he had been before being saved by Franz. Every day he struggled to keep pace with Alesin and Rolfun in a world he barely understood, let alone could excel in. What if he wasn’t powerful or influential enough when the time came? What if all his efforts weren’t enough to protect them from the coming apocalypse? The questions haunted him each night, sinking deeper into his mind each time he thought about the future. Failure was not an option, but it was beginning to feel like a looming inevitability.
For all his fears, however, Klarion continued to put forth every effort he could to answer just one more question correctly or last just one minute longer in his sparring than he had the day before. The first week was hard, but after that, he thought he began to see a change in his progress. The answers to Alesin’s random quizzes came quicker and more accurately. The sparring with Rolfun lasted longer, and he even occasionally got a glancing blow in. While he knew he had quite a ways to go yet, the fact that he seemed to be getting better helped offset some of the despair he was still feeling about the future.