The Mid-Day Reprieve
The rhythmic crack of wood on wood finally ceased when Erik, a veteran knight and Froyd's most trusted aide, stepped onto the grounds.
"Lunch is served, Young Master," Erik announced, offering a respectful nod. "The Captain says you've earned a reprieve."
Rune didn't just stop; he nearly collapsed. His fingers were locked in a claw-like cramp from hours of gripping the practice sword. He stumbled toward the dining hall, where a spread of roasted bird and chilled fruit nectar awaited.
"So, how was the morning practice, my love?"
Ravina asked, her eyes narrowing as she watched Rune's hands tremble so violently he could barely lift his cup.
"It... it was..."
Rune started, but a sudden cough seized him as he tried to swallow too fast. He gulped down his juice, his face flushed.
"It was great, Mom. Dad is showing me the foundations. I'm learning the flow."
"Good,"
Ravina said, her smile turning sweet yet undeniably sharp.
"Finish your meal and rest. This afternoon, you're with me. We begin your body control training in my private sanctuary."
Rune's heart sank. For a fleeting moment, the idea of a three-hour lecture on ancient grammar sounded like a vacation.
"What's that look for?" Ravina asked softly. "You aren't... hesitant, are you?"
Rune felt a sudden, icy draft. He snapped his spine straight, his posture instantly militaristic.
"I'm ready when you are, Ma'am!"
The Chamber of Whispers
Ravina's training room was a stark contrast to the open courtyard. It was a labyrinth of hanging daggers, stone pillars, and training dummies marked with precise red dots. However, she led him to a long, narrow corridor floored with ancient, weathered wood.
"The goal is simple, Rune,"
Ravina explained, standing at the far end of the hall.
"Reach me in five minutes. But there is a catch: you must be silent. If I hear so much as a phantom's breath from these floorboards, you go back to the start."
Rune looked at the long path. Just walk quietly? he thought. This will be easy.
"Begin," Ravina commanded.
Step...
Step...
CREAK!
A sudden, violent burst of wind erupted from Ravina's outstretched hand. The force slammed into Rune, sliding him back across the rough floorboards until he hit the starting wall.
"Again,"
she said, her smile never wavering.
The afternoon became a cycle of frustration. Every time Rune thought he had found a solid board, the wood would groan under his weight, and the wind would send him tumbling back. By sunset, he hadn't even reached the halfway point. His feet were scraped, his pride was bruised, and his muscles felt like lead.
When he finally reached his room, he didn't even have the strength to change. He collapsed onto his bed, sinking into the pillow as the cool night breeze drifted through the window.
Hilda entered a moment later to help him dress for bed, but she stopped when she saw his exhausted, trembling form.
"Oh, my poor Little Master,"
she whispered, pulling a light quilt over him.
"Rest well. May your dreams be kinder than your parents."
As the moon climbed higher, its silver light found the stone necklace on Rune's chest. The pendant began to pulse, emitting a soft, ethereal glow that washed over his battered limbs. It was a silent, magical balm, knitting together torn fibers and soothing the fire in his nerves.
The Morning After
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Rune's eyes snapped open. He expected the usual morning agony—the stiffness that follows a day of brutal labor. Instead, he felt... light. He jumped out of bed, performing the stretches Froyd had taught him. There was no pain. Only a strange, buzzing vigor.
"Young Master? You're already up?"
Hilda asked, entering with a tray of fresh water. She looked him over, confused.
"I expected you to be bedridden today."
"I don't know why, Hilda, but I feel amazing! I'm ready to go again!"
But when he reached the breakfast table, his mother's voice cut through his excitement.
"Sit, Rune. Today, you are back in the study with your tutor."
"But Mom! I'm ready! I can make it to the end of the hall today, I know it!"
"No,"
Ravina said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"You will study literature today. From now on, we alternate: even days for the mind, odd days for the body."
She leaned forward, her gaze softening just a fraction.
"A warrior who cannot think is just a sharp tool for someone else to use. We will keep your mind as sharp as your blade. Now, eat. Your books are waiting."
And so the rhythm of Rune's life was set: the sword and the silence one day, the classics and the quill the next. He was a boy caught between two worlds, unaware that his necklace was ensuring he excelled at both.