The training yard buzzed with the familiar symphony of clashing steel and barked instructions. Rowan breathed in the scent of leather and sweat, memories flooding back of mornings spent here before everything went to hell. But now, armed with knowledge that had cost him everything, he would rewrite history one swing at a time.
"Ashford! You're with me today." Sir Alden's commanding voice cut through the noise as he gestured toward the sparring circle. "Let's see if that extra sleep improved your footwork."
Marcus nudged Rowan with his elbow. "Good luck, mate. Try not to embarrass us all again like last week."
Last week. When seventeen-year-old Rowan had stumbled through his forms like a drunk tavern wench, earning himself kitchen duty for a month. The memory felt like watching someone else's life through thick glass.
"I'll do my best," Rowan replied, though his definition of 'best' had undergone a rather dramatic upgrade.
[QUEST REMINDER: Morning Training Excellence]Objective: Score 3 consecutive hits on Sir AldenTime Remaining: 1 hour, 32 minutes
As Rowan stepped into the circle, he assessed his opponent with eyes that had studied every knight, mercenary, and demon general worth knowing. Sir Alden favored his right side due to an old shoulder injury—something Rowan had never noticed as a student. The knight's stance was textbook perfect but rigid, lacking the fluid adaptability that came from facing truly unpredictable enemies.
"Standard rules," Sir Alden announced to the gathering students. "First to three clean hits wins. Ashford, let's start with basic attack patterns—"
Rowan moved.
The practice sword whistled through the air in a perfect arc, utilizing the Crimson Flow technique—a style that wouldn't be invented for another eight years. Sir Alden's eyes widened as he barely managed to parry, the force of Rowan's strike sending vibrations up his arm.
One.
Before the older knight could recover, Rowan pivoted on his heel, his blade tracing the Windcutter's Path. Sir Alden stumbled backward, his guard dropping just enough for Rowan's sword to tap against his ribs.
Two.
The training yard had gone silent. Even the first-years had stopped their drills to stare.
"What in the seven hells—" Sir Alden began, but Rowan was already moving again. This time he employed the Demon's Whisper, a feint so subtle it had once fooled a possessed archduke. Sir Alden took the bait completely, overextending his block just as Rowan's true strike landed against his shoulder.
Three.
[QUEST COMPLETE: Morning Training Excellence]Rewards Granted: +1 Strength, +1 Agility, Skill Unlocked: Enhanced Reflexes (Passive)Bonus Objective Completed: Defeat opponent without taking damageBonus Reward: +50 EXP
The system notifications flashed across Rowan's vision as warmth flooded his muscles. He could feel the changes immediately—his movements more fluid, his reactions sharper. The Enhanced Reflexes skill created a subtle awareness of motion around him, like having eyes in the back of his head.
Sir Alden lowered his practice sword, his weathered face a mask of confusion and growing suspicion. "Ashford, what the bloody hell was that supposed to be?"
Around the circle, students whispered among themselves. Marcus looked like he'd seen a ghost, his mouth hanging open in shock. Several of the older students—knights Rowan remembered dying in various horrible ways—watched with newfound respect and wariness.
"Training, sir," Rowan replied, keeping his voice level. "You always said we should push ourselves to improve."
"Push yourself, yes. But this..." Sir Alden gestured at the sparring circle. "This wasn't improvement. This was mastery. Those weren't academy techniques, boy. Where did you learn to fight like that?"
Rowan's mind raced. He needed an explanation that wouldn't raise too many questions—at least not the kind that might reach Prince Julian's ears. The traitorous bastard had spies everywhere, even in the academy.
"I've been studying the old texts in the library," he said carefully. "The accounts of the Crimson Order, the techniques Master Aldric used during the Orc Wars. I thought... I thought maybe if I practiced them enough..."
It wasn't entirely a lie. The Crimson Order had existed, their techniques recorded in dusty tomes that few students bothered to read. Of course, Rowan had learned those same techniques from their last surviving master just before the man died protecting a group of refugees.
Sir Alden's eyes narrowed. "The Crimson texts? Those forms haven't been practiced in over a century. The Academy deemed them too dangerous for standard curriculum."
"Too dangerous for students who lack the discipline to master them properly," Rowan countered, channeling every ounce of confidence his future self had possessed. "But the kingdom needs strong knights, doesn't it? Especially now, with the border conflicts and the rumors of demon cult activity."
A murmur ran through the gathered students. Few knew how accurate those rumors really were—or how much worse things would become if left unchecked.
Sir Alden studied Rowan for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded slowly. "Very well. If you're so eager to test yourself against ancient techniques, then we'll see how well you fare against something more challenging."
The veteran knight reached into a nearby weapons rack and withdrew not a practice blade, but a real sword—steel edges gleaming in the morning sun.
"Live steel, Ashford. The Crimson Order never trained with wooden toys, did they?"
Rowan's pulse quickened. This wasn't part of the original timeline—Sir Alden had never escalated to live weapons during a routine training session. His demonstration had already changed things, sent ripples through the stream of events.
Good. Change was what he'd come here to accomplish.
"I'm ready, sir," Rowan said, accepting a real blade from the weapons master. The familiar weight of steel in his hands felt like greeting an old friend.
[NEW QUEST TRIGGERED: Trial by Steel]Demonstrate mastery of advanced combat techniques using live weaponsObjective: Defeat Sir Alden in live steel combat without causing serious injuryReward: +100 EXP, Skill Evolution: Enhanced Reflexes → Combat InstinctFailure: Potential injury, loss of reputation, academic probation
As the two combatants faced each other in the center of the ring, Rowan noticed something that made his blood run cold. Standing at the edge of the training yard, partially concealed behind a stone pillar, was a figure in academy robes. The man's face was shadowed, but Rowan recognized the posture, the way he held himself with casual arrogance.
Prince Julian.
The bastard was watching. Evaluating. Planning.
In the original timeline, Julian had been nothing more than another student—a skilled one, certainly, but not someone Rowan had paid particular attention to. It wasn't until years later, during the final siege, that Julian had revealed his true nature. By then, it had been too late to stop his betrayal.
But now Rowan knew. And if Julian was already taking interest in him, it meant the prince's corruption had begun earlier than anyone suspected.
Sir Alden raised his blade in salute, the steel catching the light. "Begin when ready, student."
Rowan returned the salute, but his mind was already working on multiple levels. He needed to win this fight convincingly enough to establish his credentials as a formidable warrior—but not so overwhelmingly that Julian would see him as an immediate threat. It was a delicate balance, one that required all the political cunning he'd learned during the dark years.
The clash of steel rang out across the training yard as master and student engaged. But this time, Rowan wasn't just fighting for victory.
He was fighting for the future of the kingdom.