"Young Master… are you truly certain you will not go to the training grounds today?"
Leon Valierous sat on the wide window board, leaning back lazily as sunlight spilled across his figure. He glanced at the butler with bored eyes, as though the question itself lacked value.
"Why would I?"
The butler hesitated. The knights of the territory had already begun whispering. Failure. Disgrace. He had tried countless times to reason with the young master.
Leon always answered the same way.
"Someone of my standing doesn't need training."
There was no arrogance in his tone.
Which somehow made it worse.
The butler could not understand the root of that confidence. There was no proof behind it, no visible effort. Yet the certainty in Leon's words unsettled him every time.
Leon rose from the window, yawning without shame.
"I'm going to sleep," he said. "Do not disturb me again."
The butler stiffened, flustered, but remained silent.
Leon Valierous listened to no one—because he saw no equal worth listening to.
House Valierous was respected by both nobles and commoners alike.
Its head, Baron Augurt Valierous, had once fought alongside the Emperor himself. A hero in both name and deed.
And yet—
His only son was whispered to be the house's greatest disgrace.
The conference chamber was unusually quiet.
Though the Valierous estate was not positioned on the frontier, it was still frequently targeted. Normally, this room echoed with heated arguments and clashing wills.
Today, tension pressed down like steel.
"My lord," General Reinhardt Voss said sharply, slamming his hand onto the table, "you must take action regarding Young Master Leon."
"He is the future head of this house," Reinhardt continued. "Yet he refuses to train, refuses to act. Even commoners mock the name Valierous. How long will you allow this insult to continue?"
"He is young," Baron Augurt replied calmly. "Time will correct him."
Reinhardt turned toward Aurelia.
"Miss Aurelia," he said coldly, "you speak of patience, yet even with your frail body you involve yourself deeply in this house's affairs. And still, you defend him. You favor him far too much."
Aurelia Valierous lifted her gaze.
Born weak, she sat wrapped in fine clothing, her breathing controlled—but her eyes were sharp enough to cut.
"I do favor him," she said without hesitation. "He is my youngest brother."
The room stilled.
"And he will be fine," Aurelia continued. "So long as he remains a Valierous, no harm will come to this house through him."
"MISS AURELIA—"
"How dare you raise your voice at her."
The doors opened.
Leon stepped inside.
He moved without urgency, his expression cold and detached. Tall, composed, handsome, with loose brown hair brushing his shoulders—he looked less like an heir under scrutiny and more like a ruler bored by lesser men.
"Lord Leon," Reinhardt said bitterly, "the root of all our problems has arrived."
Leon looked at him.
Not with anger.
With disinterest.
"You look exhausted," Leon said calmly. "Is yelling part of your training, General?"
"I have no respect for a lazy disgrace," Reinhardt snapped.
Leon tilted his head slightly.
"Respect," he echoed. "That implies equality."
Aurelia spoke immediately.
"General," she said firmly, "you have no authority to speak that way to my brother."
"You protect him too much," Reinhardt growled. "That indulgence is why he has become this."
Aurelia did not flinch.
"And your obsession with effort," she replied coolly, "is why you fail to understand him."
Reinhardt slammed his fist again.
"We knights train until our arms can no longer rise," he shouted. "We bleed for this estate. And yet the heir lives in idleness. What meaning does our training have then? How do we face the people?"
Leon sighed.
"So loud," he muttered. "Do all soldiers shout when they feel inferior?"
"LORD LEON!"
Reinhardt turned—
—and stopped.
The tip of Leon's sword rested calmly against his throat.
No sound.
No movement anyone could follow.
Leon's eyes were cold, distant, absolute.
"Come outside," Leon said softly. "I'll demonstrate why I can live as I please."
His blade pressed closer.
"And I'll teach you the proper volume to speak to me with."
Every eye in the training grounds was fixed on a single point.
At the center stood two figures.
Knight General Reinhardt Voss—pillar of discipline, symbol of knighthood.
And opposite him…
Leon Valierous, the so-called disgrace heir of House Valierous.
The knights gathered around the field wanted to cheer for their General. They wanted to shout his name, to drown the air with support.
But none of them dared.
Not with Lady Aurelia watching from the balcony above—her calm gaze resting entirely on her youngest brother.
"Pick a wooden sword, Lord Leon," Reinhardt said, his voice laced with mockery. "I have no intention of injuring you."
Leon looked at him.
Not as an opponent.
As if he were something mildly amusing.
"Injure me?" Leon repeated quietly.
Then he smiled.
"Stop dreaming. I am myself. If there is anyone capable of injuring me… it would also be me."
A few knights swallowed hard.
"Say whatever you like, Young Master," Reinhardt snapped. "Words won't save you."
Leon reached for a wooden sword. He gave it a lazy swing, testing the weight as if it were a bother rather than a weapon. Then, with a careless tilt of his head, he gestured.
"Come."
The single word was enough.
Reinhardt's face twisted with fury.
That stance—unguarded.
That tone—mocking.
Those eyes—uninterested.
Everything about Leon stood in direct opposition to the knighthood Reinhardt had dedicated his life to.
With a shout, Reinhardt attacked.
His blade came down heavy, fast, precise. Years of training were packed into every swing, every thrust. The wooden sword howled through the air as he pressed forward relentlessly.
But Leon moved.
A step aside.
A slight tilt of his shoulder.
A lazy deflection.
The attack missed.
Again.
And again.
Reinhardt pressed harder, faster, pouring strength into his strikes. Thrusts aimed for the chest. Sweeps meant to break Leon's balance.
Leon dodged.
Parried.
Redirected.
Effortlessly.
As though Reinhardt's sword were moving exactly where Leon expected it to.
The murmurs began.
The knights' expressions shifted from confidence… to confusion… to shock.
They had never seen General Reinhardt struggle like this.
Reinhardt's breathing grew heavy. Sweat trickled down his temple. His arms burned.
Leon, meanwhile—
Yawned.
"What…?" Reinhardt muttered.
He couldn't understand it.
Every movement he made was seen through. Every attack neutralized before it could threaten.
Then Leon spoke.
"Is that all?" he asked calmly.
He adjusted his grip slightly.
"Then I suppose it's my turn."
The air changed.
Leon stepped forward.
A single thrust.
Reinhardt reacted instantly, raising his sword to parry—
—and pain exploded across his jaw.
The impact came from nowhere.
The world spun.
Reinhardt didn't understand what had happened. There was no heavy swing. No obvious motion. One moment Leon stood before him—
—and the next, he was falling.
The ground rushed up.
Darkness swallowed his vision.
Silence fell over the training grounds.
Leon stood there, wooden sword lowered, his expression unchanged.
"Too loud," he muttered.
Above, Aurelia closed her eyes in quiet satisfaction.
The knights would never look at their "disgrace heir" the same way again.