In the afternoon they moved to the yard. Captain Bran waited by the training post with an old wooden blade slung over his shoulder. The man had a voice like a bell and the kind of patience that could harden a boy into steel.
"Footwork first," Bran said. "If your feet fail you, nothing else matters."
Aric warmed up, then practiced cuts and parries. Bran called corrections—elbow too high, stance too narrow—and Serina kept count from the steps, calling out when he slowed. Sweat ran down Aric's back and his arms trembled, but he kept going. The physical focus pushed the dream-echoes to the back of his skull.
After a bout Bran nodded. "Better. You'll do." He clapped a heavy hand on Aric's shoulder. "Rest. Eat. And remember—don't carry the house on your shoulders alone. Let others do their share."
Aric looked at Serina, then at Bran. He wanted to tell them about the boy in the dream. He almost did. Instead he said, "I'll try to sleep properly tonight."
"You do that," Bran answered, and for once the reprimand had warmth in it.
The hall smelled of roast and herbs. Candles burned low, throwing soft light across the table. Aric sat between Edrin and Lyanna. Serina stood just behind his chair, hands folded, watching.
Cedric cut a slice of meat and looked at Aric. "Steward Maren sent word today. He said you argued a point well in the council exercise."Aric tried not to fidget. "He asked me why trade routes matter for local safety. I answered like he taught me."
Elara reached over and ruffled Aric's hair. "Mistress Helaine also mentioned you. She says your posture is improving. You're learning to hold yourself like a Frost."
Edrin grinned. "Books and bows are fine. But Corrin says you remembered details about the Old Marches without a pause. History suits you." He jabbed Aric lightly with an elbow. "Still, don't expect pity in the training yard. Bran's not gentle."
Aric rolled his eyes but smiled. "I know. Captain Bran fixed my guard this afternoon—said my hips were too square. I'm working on it."
Lyanna leaned forward, eyes bright. "Did Bran hit you?" she asked, half serious, half delighted."Not on purpose," Aric said, laughing. "He only shouts."
Serina refilled his plate without a sound. She glanced at him, then at Cedric, an unspoken question in her eyes. Cedric met it and gave a short nod, the kind that said things would be looked after.
Cedric set down his knife. "Aric, we expect steadiness from you. Not perfection. Learn the rules. Learn when to bend them."Aric felt those words settle in his chest. "I will, Father."
Elara's voice was softer. "And rest. Mistress Helaine warned me yourself should be gentle with yourself as you grow. Your Awakening will come soon enough. We want you ready in body and mind."
Edrin leaned back and laughed. "You'll make the house proud whatever happens. Just remember to let us help once in a while."
They talked after that about smaller things — the market's fresh apples, a stable boy who'd lost a shoe, Lyanna's trouble with a stubborn cat. The mood was easy. Aric listened more than he spoke, and when he spoke it was short and honest. The room felt like a shelter. For a few hours that evening, the dreams stayed at bay.