The courtyard was bathed in the soft light of mid-morning, the crisp air carrying the faint scent of freshly trimmed grass and stone. Alex moved with precise control, wielding a practice dagger in each hand, the metallic clink against his wooden dummy echoing softly. Beside him, Kael mirrored the movements, his own blades slicing through the air with smooth, disciplined motions.
Though the weapons were not yet those promised by Lord Elias, Alex could already feel how much easier they would be once the daggers and sword arrived—each strike and parry guided by an invisible connection to the mana within him.
After a particularly rigorous series of maneuvers, Kael lowered his blades and leaned on his knees to catch his breath.
"I suppose I can share this with you," Kael said quietly, eyes fixed on the courtyard stones. "You know I'm the son of the Duke of Skyrim, but… my beginnings were complicated. My father was a commoner before he rose to his position. My mother… she was a brothel servant. They fell in love, and I was conceived before my father became Duke. Society calls me the illegitimate son, but my father has provided everything I need. My mother still lives, but in a private courtyard, separated from my father, who refuses to marry another woman despite the king's insistence. I've carried this truth my whole life, walking between duty and the whispers of others."
Alex lowered his daggers and rested a hand on Kael's shoulder. "Thank you for sharing that with me. It doesn't change my respect for you. Your path may have been complicated, but it has forged your strength, discipline, and loyalty. That is what matters."
Kael lifted his eyes, gratitude and relief mingling in his gaze. "It's easier to bear when someone sees me as more than just the gossip and whispers."
Alex nodded, returning to his stance. Then, a private memory flickered in his mind—Riven, teasing, calling him "Cupcake," and saying he deserved the world. A small, quiet giggle escaped him, a warmth amid the intensity of training.
Kael's lips twitched, suppressing a smile, noticing Alex's rare, private amusement. "I take it that's someone you trust," he said lightly, a teasing note in his voice. Alex only raised a brow and gave a small shrug, letting the secret remain between him and the memory.
"Then let's continue," Alex said, straightening and squaring his shoulders. "Strength comes not only from the weapons, but from knowing who you are—and who you fight for."
The courtyard echoed again with the clash of training blades, but a subtle warmth lingered between the two. Amid the sweat, focus, and practiced rhythm of their movements, Alex's private smile at Riven's teasing remained—a secret, cherished, and entirely his own.