Adrian stepped into the palace training hall, the morning sun streaming through the tall windows. The polished wooden floor gleamed, and the scent of oiled weapons filled the air. His hands itched for action, and though he was still a child of six, he felt a thrill at being here.
Howard Rufer stood in the center, his posture rigid, eyes sharp as a hawk. His dark cloak swayed slightly as he moved, and the thin lines on his face hinted at years of experience. He was known as one of the top instructors in the academy, and now he was Adrian's personal advisor for swordsmanship and combat training.
"Your Highness," Howard began, voice firm and commanding, "today, we start with basics. Stand properly, hold the sword correctly, and follow my instructions exactly. No mistakes."
Adrian bowed quickly, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. "Yes, sir."
Howard handed him a practice sword, light enough for a child, but sturdy. Adrian took it carefully, adjusting his grip.
"Footwork first," Howard said, stepping back. "Balance comes before strength. Move as I move. Left foot forward—right foot back. Again."
Adrian mirrored him, concentrating hard. His small feet shuffled across the floor. "Like this?" he asked, trying to match the precision of Howard's steps.
Howard's eyes narrowed. "No. Watch me, then replicate. Not your version—mine."
Adrian's cheeks flushed. "Yes, sir." He copied Howard's movements carefully this time, noticing how each shift of the foot affected balance.
"Better. Remember, Adrian, the sword is an extension of your body. You control it with your mind, not just your arms." Howard's tone was strict, but his eyes softened slightly as he studied Adrian's movements.
Adrian nodded. "Control with the mind… got it."
Howard clapped his hands once sharply. "Now, the grip. Not too tight, not too loose. Imagine the sword is part of you. Not a tool, but a companion."
Adrian adjusted his hands, trying to find the perfect tension. "Like this?"
Howard circled him, inspecting every detail. "Closer. Bend the wrists slightly. Relax the shoulders. No tension in the elbows. That's it. Focus."
Adrian exhaled and mirrored the posture. He felt small, but determined. The hall was quiet except for the soft clack of wooden swords and their footsteps.
"Now, strikes," Howard said. "Straight thrusts first. Accuracy over power. Step forward with your left foot, strike to the center. Again."
Adrian obeyed, thrusting the wooden sword forward. His first attempt wobbled slightly. "Ah!" he muttered, catching the sword midair.
Howard shook his head. "Predictable hesitation. Don't think too much. Feel the movement. Again."
Adrian tried again, this time moving smoothly. Howard's eyes flickered with approval. "Better. Now, defensive maneuvers. Parry, block, anticipate the opponent."
Adrian raised his sword, attempting a block. His small arms trembled slightly from concentration. "Like this?"
Howard stepped closer, demonstrating a swift parry. "No hesitation. The enemy never waits. Your reactions must be faster than thought. Faster."
Adrian's brow furrowed. "Faster than thought… right." He moved the sword as quickly as his little arms would allow. He stumbled slightly, catching himself. "Ah, I—"
Howard's voice softened ever so slightly. "Patience. Quickness comes with practice. You have the mind for strategy, Adrian. Use it. Observation first, action second."
Adrian paused, wiping sweat from his brow. He realized Howard wasn't just training his body—he was training his mind. Adrian thought of all the adventures he planned outside the palace, with Lio, Mira, and Tomas. This would help him protect them, he realized.
Howard clapped his hands again. "Sparring time. Simple exercises. Defend, attack, repeat. No tricks. No improvisation yet."
Adrian's heart skipped. Sparring sounded dangerous, but exciting. "Yes, sir."
Howard handed him another practice sword and raised his own. "Come at me."
Adrian stepped forward cautiously. Howard's movements were fast, fluid. Each time Adrian tried to strike, Howard parried effortlessly.
"Predictable!" Howard barked. "Again. Observe the pattern. Timing is everything. Not force, strategy."
Adrian bit his lip, focusing. He noticed Howard's subtle shifts, the weight of the sword, the slight lean before each strike. On the third attempt, Adrian moved just as Howard adjusted—his sword connected with the practice shield Howard held.
Howard raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. "Hm. Clever. You learn quickly, but you must not hesitate."
Adrian grinned, a small spark of pride. "Yes, sir. I understand."
They continued for some time, sweat forming on Adrian's forehead, but each attempt grew smoother. Howard pushed him harder with footwork, thrusts, and parrying, all the while keeping a sharp eye on safety.
Finally, Howard lowered his sword. "Enough for today. Your body is exhausted. Good. Remember, swordsmanship isn't just skill—it's patience, discipline, and responsibility. The strongest warrior without control is the weakest."
Adrian nodded, breathing heavily. "I… I understand, sir."
Howard stepped closer, placing a hand on Adrian's shoulder. "You have potential, Adrian. More than most at your age. But you must never let pride or impatience cloud judgment. Your strength is as much in your mind as your body."
Adrian's chest swelled. He wasn't just practicing for show—every swing, every step mattered. Howard cared about him, in his strict way.
"Thank you, sir," Adrian said quietly.
Howard gave a rare, small smile. "Do not thank me yet. You have far to go. But… keep this effort. It will serve you well."
Adrian picked up his cloak, brushing dust off. As he left the training hall, he thought about the friends waiting for him outside, the adventures he longed to have. Swordsmanship wasn't just training—it was preparation for the life he wanted to carve on his own.
Even as a prince, even under his father's watchful eyes, Adrian—Aiden—was learning to stand strong on his own two feet.
And with Howard's guidance, one day, he might just become the kind of protector the world would remember.