Apollyon's departure left Seraphina contemplating. Watching him fade from view, she considered the uncharted potential he embodied. His eagerness to be both student and assistant intrigued her. ‘Apollyon’, she mused, ‘a mixture of determination and mystery. What exactly is your goal?’

As he vanished around a corner, Seraphina's thoughts lingered on his hidden depths. ‘His unspoken secret’, she pondered, ‘what could it be? Can he match his words with actions?’ Uncertainty mingled with hope as she turned away.

Meanwhile, just beyond the building's entrance, a figure stood in patient silence, awaiting Apollyon's emergence. The man's presence was unremarkable to anyone passing by, but Apollyon recognized him instantly. Alfredo, his butler, had a way of materializing out of thin air, leaving Apollyon with a sense of both surprise and familiarity. Their connection remained a well-kept secret, known only to the two of them.

Alfredo's presence wasn't coincidental; he had overheard snippets of the conversation between Apollyon and Seraphina, his keen senses picking up their discussion as he passed by the building. A knowing smile played on his lips as he anticipated his adopted nephew's reaction.

As Apollyon stepped outside, Alfredo's voice cut through the air, breaking the silence with a mix of amusement and warmth. "Off to challenge the world of magic, are you?" he remarked, his eyes twinkling with an unspoken understanding. Apollyon chuckled, his demeanor shifting from surprise to a relaxed camaraderie. "You make it sound like a daring adventure, Uncle." Alfredo's grin widened. "Isn't it, though?"

With a knowing glance exchanged, Alfredo gestured subtly toward a less frequented area nearby. Apollyon followed his lead, their steps leading them to a quiet alcove where they could speak more privately.

Alfredo's expression grew more thoughtful as they settled into the secluded space. "Apollyon," he began, his tone more serious, "I believe there’s something we should discuss about”.

Apollyon's brow furrowed slightly, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "What is it, Alfredo?"

The butler's gaze held a mix of concern and consideration. "Your magical potential," he said, his words carrying a weight of significance. "You've kept it deeply concealed from his lordship and even from myself. I wonder, should this information be shared with your family?"

Apollyon's eyes widened, a sudden realization dawning upon him. The ‘secret’ he had held close, even from his family was in fact, not a deliberate secret but rather a recent discovery he had only chanced upon. He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head resolutely. "Not for now, Alfredo. I've chosen to keep my abilities hidden, at least until I fully understand them myself."

Alfredo's gaze held a mixture of understanding and respect. "Your caution is wise," he acknowledged. "It's important to tread carefully with such matters."

Apollyon's expression held a mixture of determination and uncertainty. "I know that revealing this secret could lead to changes I might not be prepared for," he admitted. "For now, I want to focus on my journey of learning and growth."

Apollyon's thoughts turned inward, his eyes clouded with worry. "Alfredo," he began, his voice tinged with apprehension,

"One of the reasons I hesitate to reveal my abilities is the implications it could have, especially for my father. He's a count, with many enemies and alliances. If they learn of my capabilities, they might attempt to exploit them for their own purposes."

Alfredo's expression grew more serious, his understanding deepening. "I see," he said. "Your concerns are valid, Apollyon. Your father's position and the intricacies of his alliances do add layers of complexity" that even he had failed to hypothesize.

Apollyon nodded, his determination unwavering. "Until I'm certain of my abilities and can foresee their consequences, I choose to remain hidden. My father's safety and our family's stability come first."

Alfredo's gaze held a mixture of pride and reassurance. "Your commitment to your family's well-being is commendable, Apollyon. Your cautious approach is a testament to your wisdom."

With a shared understanding, Alfredo offered a reassuring smile. "You should know, Apollyon, that your true identity and lineage are concealed deeply. The precautions taken by your lordship are thorough, and your position is known to very few. You need not worry about undue attention from those who might seek to exploit your abilities."

Apollyon's tension eased slightly, a glimmer of relief shining in his eyes. "Thank you, Alfredo," he said sincerely. "Your words bring me comfort."

Alfredo's smile held a touch of warmth. "Remember that you have both my support and the protection of your family's legacy. Your journey into magic is not just a personal endeavor; it's an extension of the strength that runs through your veins."

As the alcove's shadows stretched, Alfredo's tone shifted subtly, his voice holding a note of anticipation. "Apollyon, the time has come to honor his lordships personal decree”

Apollyon's curiosity piqued. "Our agreement? You mean..."

Alfredo nodded. "Yes, the Heimarch martial technique. It's time to check on your progress, to see how you've embraced this ancient skill."

Apollyon's eyes lit up with a mixture of excitement and determination. "I've been practicing diligently, Alfredo. Don’t be surprised when I’ve shown you how far I've progressed thus far."

Alfredo's gaze held a mixture of pride and expectation. "Then let us begin, little nephew. Let's see how you've channeled your determination into mastering this art." As they moved to a slightly more open space, Alfredo's presence exuded a sense of guidance, a testament to the journey that lay ahead.

In a secluded training ground in the western courtyard which bathed in the soft hues of early evening, Apollyon and Alfredo stood face to face. The air crackled with a palpable energy, a blend of determination and anticipation.

In Apollyon's hands was a finely crafted sword different from the gladius he once practiced with, its blade catching the fading sunlight; it was the same sword he had forged himself. With Regis’ help, both of them refined the once dull sword into a greater piece.

{Iron sword (Fine): Attack 40-45 (Phys) ~ A long sharp straight blade composed of pure iron with a seemingly refined edge. Has a yew hilt with a carefully constructed interweaving design.}

“From where did you summon that sword?” questioned Alfredo, he had only turned around to observe his surroundings only to face the boy now wielding a sword.

“Magic” the boy simply mused.

“….”

“Is that right?” Alfred chuckled, ignoring his blatant lie.

Apollo of course summoned in from his internal inventory; he truly believed that Alfred wouldn’t do anything even if he was aware of its existence. ‘Why would he?’ Apollo thought. In fact, he was curious if Alfred would do anything about it.

Quite frankly, Apollo was aware of the existence of orbs that act as storage devices; its just that he didn’t have one on him. However, he could play around the fact that he may have one as a plausible excuse. ‘I’m sure Alfred wouldn’t question this’ he sneered inwardly.

Apollo’s stance exuded a quiet confidence, a readiness to face whatever challenge lay ahead. Along with the sword, he had a rectangular shield that he had retrieved from the nearby stands which held practice equipment.

Opposite him, Alfredo held a shield in one hand and a sword in the other, his expression a mix of mentorly pride and focused assessment. The two had begun a friendly spar with each other, with mostly Alfredo guiding Apollyon through the intricacies of their family's unique martial art.

Their swords met with a resounding clash, the sound ringing out across the training ground. Apollyon's movements were fluid and controlled, his strikes precise and measured. Alfredo responded with a mix of defensive maneuvers and calculated counters, his eyes locked onto Apollyon's every move.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

As the spar continued, Alfredo couldn't help but be astounded by Apollyon's progress. In just a week's time, the young man had absorbed the fundamentals of the art with remarkable ease. His strikes were confident, his footwork precise, and his defensive maneuvers well-timed. It was as if he had tapped into a wellspring of skill that had been waiting to be unleashed.

Alfredo's shield blocked a series of rapid strikes from Apollyon, each one met with a controlled force that showcased the boy's growing prowess. A momentary opening presented itself, and Apollyon capitalized, launching into a swift offensive that left Alfredo momentarily on the defensive. He had deliberately done so to gauge the boy’s response.

Apollyon's movements were a dance of skill and strategy, a testament to the dedication he had poured into his training. He parried Alfredo's attacks with finesse, his blade meeting the older man's with a satisfying clash. With a quick shift in stance, Apollyon launched a series of feints, testing Alfredo's reflexes and prompting him to adapt on the fly.

The spar continued, the rhythm of their blades a symphony of skill and determination. Alfredo's admiration for Apollyon's progress grew with each passing moment. As they traded strikes, he marveled at how the young man had taken the foundations he had taught him and sculpted them into a fighting style that was uniquely his own.

But it wasn't just the technical prowess that impressed Alfredo. It was the fire in Apollyon's eyes, the unwavering determination that radiated from him. He fought not just to master a skill, but to honor a legacy, to carry forward the mantle of their family's martial art. It was a testament to the depth of character that lay beneath Apollyon's seemingly calm exterior.

As the spar drew to a close, both combatants stepped back, Apollyon’s chest heaving with exertion. Alfredo's shield rested at his side, his sword lowered. Apollyon figure stood meekly, sweat glistening on his brow, a mix of exhaustion and accomplishment etched across his features.

Alfredo's voice broke the silence that had settled over the training ground. "Little nephew, your progress is remarkable. You've taken to this art with a natural grace, and you've nearly mastered the basics in such a short span of time" he smiled proudly.

Apollyon's expression held a mixture of fatigue and humility. "Thanks, Alfredo. Your guidance has been invaluable. I've found a deeper connection to this art than I could have imagined."

Alfredo's smile was a blend of pride and understanding. "Well, you're a natural, Apollyon. I might have to step up my game to keep up with you" he chuckled.

Apollyon chuckled, wiping his brow. "Don't sell yourself short. I know damn well that you’re only playing around, Uncle" his words trailed with annoyance.

Alfredo's grin widened. "Ah, flattery will get you nowhere, my young apprentice."

As the sun dipped even lower, casting long shadows across the training ground, their banter carried a sense of light heartedness. The bond between mentor and student was strengthened not only by their shared pursuit of mastery but also by the genuine friendship that had blossomed between them from an early age.

Just as they were about to part ways, a familiar voice cut through the air, drawing their attention. "Impressive display, you two," called out Alistair, the head decurion of the military camp. He had approached with a silent step, having been on a leisurely stroll that had led him to the training ground. His presence bore an air of authority, yet his smile carried warmth and approval.

Apollyon and Alfredo turned toward Alistair, their expressions shifting from levity to respectful attention. "Head decurion" Apollyon greeted with a slight bow, his respect evident in his demeanor.

Alfredo added his own nod of acknowledgement. "Good evening, Head decurion, Alistair."

Alistair's gaze swept over the training ground, his eyes lingering on the duo. "I must admit, I've been watching your practice for a while now," he admitted, his tone casual. "You both have an impressive dynamic. A mentor and student relationship, I presume?"

Alfredo's expression remained composed, his features giving away nothing. He met Alistair's gaze evenly. "You have a sharp eye, decurion Alistair. Apollyon is not just my student; he's also a member of my family."

Alistair's surprise was evident, his brows raising slightly. "Family? I wasn't aware of any familial relationships among the instructors and the new recruits."

Alfredo's tone remained measured as he spoke. "Apollyon is my nephew, though we maintain a mentor-student relationship within the camp for various reasons."

Alistair's gaze shifted between Alfredo and Apollyon, realization dawning in his eyes. "I see," he said slowly. "So, your bond runs deeper than meets the eye."

Alfredo's smile held a touch of warmth. "Indeed, Head decurion. Our familial connection only enhances our shared pursuit of mastery as well as my own personal responsibilities."

Alistair's surprise gave way to a thoughtful expression. "It's a unique dynamic, to be sure. And one that seems to have served you both well. However, decurion Alfredo" he continued.

“I’m sure you’re well aware of the rules within this camp?” his voice, changing with a slight tone of authority.

Alfredo with his quick wittedness naturally understood the deeper meanings of the question asked of him, his own voice replying with a sense of understanding, “Don’t fret, head decurion; I will uphold the sanctity of Dragonspire camp by acknowledging its rules.”

“I will not be biased towards my nephew if unfortunate circumstances are to unfold” he said respectfully.

“Good”, nodded the thoughtful Alistair before carrying on with his nonchalant stroll, a minor event wasn’t worth anything in his eyes; his only concern was the rules he had imposed.

Alfred and Apollo simply glanced at each other with a nod of understanding and parted ways.

Back at the barracks, Apollyon found himself greeted by the familiar face of his comrade, Willard. The atmosphere within the barracks was a mixture of weariness and subdued chatter, a reminder of the day's events that had unfolded earlier. Willard's expression held a blend of concern and curiosity as he approached Apollyon.

"Apollyon, you're back," Willard said with a nod, his voice carrying a note of familiarity. “Is everything okay?"

Apollyon offered a weary smile in return. "I'm fine, Willard. Just had something to take care of."

Willard's gaze held a touch of concern as he pressed further. "Is there anything you want to talk about? You seemed to be gone for quite a while."

Apollyon hesitated for a moment, considering how much to reveal. The secret training sessions with Alfredo were meant to remain hidden, even from his closest comrades. "It was just a minor matter. Nothing to worry about," he replied with a reassuring tone.

Willard nodded, his expression reflecting understanding. "Alright, if you say so. But you know you can always talk to me if something's bothering you."

“By the way, when we returned with Gorm, he was suddenly taken away by the guard; something about fairness” Willard added.

“Gorm?” Apollo pondered.

‘He did punch Quintus thereby initiating the physical bout. He indeed wasn’t entirely innocent’ he concluded, feeling oddly satisfied at the total fairness of the situation.

Just as the conversation seemed to settle into a comfortable rhythm, Willard's curiosity got the better of him. "By the way, did something happen at the medical building? You were there for a while."

Apollyon's surprise registered on his features for a moment before he managed a smile. "Oh, that? It's related to something that might happen in the future. I had a chat with Seraphina."

Willard's eyebrows lifted in intrigue. "Decurion Seraphina? About what?"

Apollyon's smile held a touch of enthusiasm. "She mentioned the possibility of me becoming her assistant in the future."

Willard's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? That's quite the development. You're getting closer to magic and healing, my friend."

Apollyon's smile grew as he spoke. "It's an opportunity I'm considering. There's a lot to learn from her, and it would be a different way to contribute."

Willard's supportive nod reflected his understanding. "I think you'd be great at it. After all, you’re different from them lot" he mentally pointed towards individuals of a higher status than himself.

Apollyon's gratitude was evident as he chuckled in return. "Thanks, Willard. What can I say? I’m the best guy around" he shamelessly advertised.

As their conversation tapered off, Willard's enthusiasm took a slightly different direction. "You know, if decurion Seraphina is looking for assistants, I wonder if there's a chance for someone like me too."

Apollyon's mind spun with a mixture of thoughts. He knew Willard well, and he couldn't help but infer that Willard might not possess the capabilities to wield mana. Yet, he also recognized Willard's determination and his desire to contribute. He didn't want to disappoint his friend, even if it meant not revealing the full truth.

"Willard, being an assistant is a lot of hard work, and it might not be the right fit for everyone. It's not as simple as it sounds."

Willard's enthusiasm remained unwavering. "I'm willing to work hard if it means I can contribute more. Do you think you could put in a good word for me?"

Apollyon's expression maintained a thoughtful facade, though his thoughts were racing. He evaded directly answering the question. "Honestly, Willard, it's not about putting in a word. It's about what's best for each of us individually. Sometimes, taking on more responsibilities could actually hinder our progress."

Willard's brows furrowed in thought as he considered Apollyon's words. "I see what you mean. Well, if you ever think it's a possibility, let me know."

Apollyon nodded, his expression holding a mix of understanding and reassurance. "Of course, Willard. If the opportunity arises, I'll definitely let you know."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Apollyon considered Seraphina's well-being, not wanting to burden his newly acquired mentor with more than she could handle.

As Apollyon settled back into his bunker bed, exhaustion tugging at his limbs as he prepared for sleep, his gaze shifted briefly toward the nearby bunks of Otis and Cicero. In the dim light of the barracks, he couldn't help but notice the two engaged in a hushed conversation, their voices low and accompanied by occasional glances around to ensure their privacy.

Otis, with his youthful features and wide-eyed innocence, seemed to be listening intently to Cicero's words. Cicero, on the other hand, had a sly grin that suggested he was sharing something intriguing, something that held an element of secret knowledge. Apollyon's curiosity piqued, his mind briefly considering the nature of their conversation.

It was no secret to him that Cicero had a chaotic personality and a penchant for enjoying the chaos of conflict. The way he seemed to draw Otis into his confidence, planting seeds of discord in the young recruit's mind, raised a faint alarm in Apollyon's mind. There was an air of manipulation about the interaction, as if Cicero were carefully inducting Otis into his own web of future plans.

Apollyon couldn't make out the specifics of their conversation, but he could sense an undercurrent of mischief and potential disruption. It was a reminder that even within the camaraderie of the barracks, there were layers of intention and motivation, some of which might not align with the group's collective purpose.

As the soft murmur of their conversation continued, Apollyon closed his eyes, allowing the sounds to fade into the background. Sleep beckoned, but his mind remained alert, mulling over the dynamics of the barracks and the complexities that came with the bonds formed between comrades.