The training grounds stretched before Leo, bathed in the pale light of dawn. Dew clung to the grass, and the air was cool and still. The faint hum of the camp waking up drifted in the background: soldiers preparing for the day, blacksmiths stoking their forges, and the occasional bark of a commanding officer. This was Leo’s new world, a far cry from the quiet village life he once knew.

Valeria stood at the edge of the grounds, her silhouette imposing even in repose. Her silver hair, tied neatly back, shimmered faintly in the morning light. Her sharp blue eyes appraised him as he approached, wooden training sword in hand. Though he had seen her in battle, graceful and deadly, it was her quiet authority now that made him straighten his posture.

“You’re on time today,” she remarked, her tone neutral.

Leo nodded, gripping his sword tightly. The calluses forming on his hands were a testament to his dedication, but they did little to ease the ache in his muscles. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Valeria’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Good. A Knight’s first virtue is discipline. Today, we build on the basics.”

The morning began with footwork drills. Valeria placed small wooden markers in a staggered pattern across the training grounds. “Footwork is the foundation of all combat,” she explained. “If your stance falters, you fall. If your footing is unsure, you miss your mark.”

Leo’s task was simple in theory: navigate the markers while maintaining balance and proper sword posture. In practice, it was anything but simple. Each step required precision, each movement a delicate balance of speed and control. Valeria’s corrections were constant.

“Don’t rush,” she admonished, her voice sharp as a blade. “It’s not a race. Feel the ground beneath your feet. Trust it.”

By the end of the hour, his legs burned with exertion. Sweat dripped down his face, but he managed to complete the exercise without tripping—a small victory that earned him a nod of approval from Valeria.

Next came strength training. Valeria led him to a section of the grounds where weighted wooden swords were stacked. Each was thicker and heavier than the training sword he had been using.

“These will teach you to handle the weight of a real weapon,” she said, handing him one. The heft of it made his arms tremble. “Swing it. Slowly, with control. Focus on precision, not power.”

Leo’s first attempts were clumsy. The sword wobbled in his grip, and his movements lacked coordination. Valeria stepped behind him, adjusting his stance and guiding his arms.

“Use your core, not just your arms,” she instructed. “Your strength comes from your whole body, not individual parts.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Her hands were firm but patient, and under her guidance, his swings became steadier. Hours passed as he repeated the motions, his muscles screaming in protest. By midday, he could barely lift the sword, but he refused to stop.

“Enough,” Valeria said finally. “Rest is as important as training. Overexertion leads to mistakes.”

Leo lowered the sword, his arms trembling. He wanted to argue but knew she was right. He sank to the ground, gulping water from a flask Finn had brought over earlier.

After a brief respite, Valeria led Leo to the edge of a river that wound its way through the camp. The current was swift, and the water’s surface shimmered under the mid-morning sun.

“Cross it,” she said simply.

Leo stared at the river, doubt flickering in his mind. The rocks were slick with moss, and the current threatened to sweep away anything that ventured into its path. But Valeria’s expression left no room for argument.

He waded into the icy water, the cold biting into his skin. Each step was a battle against the current, which pushed and pulled with relentless force. Halfway across, he lost his footing and was swept under. Panic surged as the water closed over his head, but he fought to the surface, gasping for air.

On the shore, Valeria’s voice rang out. “Use your strength, not just your will. The river doesn’t care for bravery; it respects skill.”

Leo tried again, this time using the rocks and branches as footholds and handholds. His progress was slow, but he reached the far bank, collapsing onto the ground as the cold seeped into his bones.

The afternoon brought a change of pace. Valeria led Leo to a shaded spot near the edge of the camp, where a small wooden table was set up with a map of the surrounding region. The detailed markings of forests, rivers, and roads were a stark reminder of the strategic complexities of war.

“A Knight isn’t just a fighter,” Valeria said, her tone serious. “You must be a tactician, a leader. Understanding the terrain can mean the difference between victory and defeat.”

She began explaining the basics of map reading, pointing out key landmarks and their strategic importance. “This river here can serve as both a natural barrier and a supply route. This forest”—she traced her finger over a dense patch of green—“is ideal for ambushes but dangerous to navigate without a guide.”

Leo listened intently, absorbing her words. Though the subject was far removed from the physicality of swordplay, he recognized its importance. The ability to think critically, to anticipate an enemy’s moves, was as vital as any weapon.

As the sun dipped low, Valeria introduced sparring once more. This time, she took the place of Garrick. The realization sent a jolt of both excitement and fear through Leo. Facing her was an entirely different challenge.

“You’ve learned the basics,” she said, raising her own wooden sword. “Now, let’s see how you use them.”

The first clash of their swords reverberated through the air, the force of her strike nearly knocking the weapon from his hands. She was relentless, her movements fluid and precise. Every attack was calculated, every defense impenetrable. Leo struggled to keep up, his own swings wild and unfocused.

“Control,” she barked, deflecting his blade with ease. “Think before you act. Anticipate.”

He tried to heed her advice, but her speed and skill overwhelmed him. After a particularly forceful strike, he stumbled backward, landing hard on the ground. His chest heaved, and frustration welled up inside him.

“Get up,” Valeria ordered, her voice unyielding. “A Knight doesn’t give up because they fall.”

Gritting his teeth, Leo rose to his feet. He adjusted his stance, gripping the sword with renewed determination. This time, he focused on defense, studying her movements and reacting instead of blindly attacking.

Though she still bested him, he managed to hold his ground longer with each bout. By the end of the session, he was battered and exhausted but felt a flicker of pride. Valeria’s faint smile as she dismissed him only strengthened his resolve.

That night, Leo sat by the fire, the wolf pendant cool against his skin. Finn joined him, handing over a steaming bowl of stew.

“You’re insane, you know that?” Finn said, shaking his head. “She’s pushing you harder than anyone else out there.”

“I asked her to,” Leo replied, his voice quiet but firm. “If I’m going to be a Knight, I have to be stronger. Better.”

Finn studied him for a moment before sighing. “Just don’t forget to take care of yourself, alright? Even Knights need rest.”

Leo nodded, appreciating his friend’s concern. As the camp settled into silence, he stared into the flickering flames, his mind replaying the day’s lessons. Every ache in his body, every failure, was a step forward. He was no longer the boy from Eldoria. He was becoming something more.