The drive from Lyon to Monaco took approximately four hours, but to Ethan, it felt like both an eternity and an instant.
He pressed his face against the car window, watching the French countryside gradually transform. Rolling hills gave way to mountainous terrain. The air grew warmer. And then, as they descended along the coastal road, the Mediterranean Sea appeared—a vast expanse of brilliant blue that seemed to stretch forever.
"C'est magnifique," Aminata whispered, equally mesmerized.
Moussa navigated the winding roads carefully. Monaco was unlike anywhere they'd been before. The principality was tiny—barely two square kilometers—but what it lacked in size, it made up for in spectacle. Luxury yachts filled the harbor. Expensive cars lined the streets. Buildings climbed the hillsides in pristine white and cream, creating a vertical cityscape that looked like something from a dream.
"This is where you might train?" Marie said from the back seat, her eyes wide. She'd insisted on coming along, not wanting to miss this adventure.
"Maybe," Ethan replied, though his heart was already making the decision his mind was still processing.
Philippe Clement had given them an address: the Centre de Formation—Monaco's training facility located in La Turbie, a small French commune just above the principality. As they drove up the winding mountain roads, the view became even more spectacular. Monaco spread out below them like a toy city, the Mediterranean sparkling in the winter sun.
They arrived at the facility at 2 PM sharp. Philippe was waiting at the entrance, dressed casually in a Monaco tracksuit and sunglasses.
"Welcome, welcome!" He shook hands with Moussa and Aminata, then smiled at Ethan and Marie. "Ready for the grand tour?"
The Monaco training facility was impressive, though different from Lyon's modern complex. It had character—terraced pitches built into the hillside, taking advantage of the natural landscape. The main building was newer, with large windows offering panoramic views of the coast.
"We have six pitches here," Philippe explained as they walked. "Three natural grass, two artificial, and one hybrid. The first team trains here twice a week. The rest of the time, it belongs to the academy."
They entered the main building. The interior was clean and professional—meeting rooms, video analysis suites, a medical center, and a cafeteria with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Mediterranean.
"This is where you'd eat lunch every day," Philippe said. "All meals are prepared by nutritionists. We take care of everything—diet, physical conditioning, mental preparation, academics."
"Academics?" Moussa asked pointedly.
"Follow me."
Philippe led them to the education wing. Classrooms were equipped with modern technology. A few students—academy players in Monaco tracksuits—sat at desks, working on assignments while a teacher circulated.
"Morning training, then classes, then afternoon training," Philippe explained. "We coordinate with the French national curriculum. Your son won't fall behind. In fact, many of our players perform better academically here than they did in traditional schools. The discipline carries over."
Aminata nodded approvingly. Education was non-negotiable for her.
The highlight came when Philippe took them to one of the training pitches. A youth session was in progress—the U-13 squad working on possession drills. But standing off to the side, watching intently, was a slim teenager with distinctive features and intense focus.
Ethan recognized him immediately from highlight videos he'd watched obsessively.
Kylian Mbappé.
"Kylian!" Philippe called out. The teenager turned and jogged over. At eleven years old now, he was already making waves in Monaco's youth system, spoken of in reverent tones as a generational talent.
"This is the Loki family," Philippe said. "Ethan here is the player I told you about."
Mbappé looked down at Ethan with curious eyes. "You're the one who scored that crazy goal against Saint-Étienne? The four-man dribble?"
Ethan nodded, suddenly shy.
"I saw the video. That was insane." Mbappé grinned. "How old are you?"
"Nine. I turn ten in March."
"And you did that at nine?" Mbappé's eyes widened with genuine respect. "I didn't start doing stuff like that until I was ten or eleven. You're ahead of schedule."
"You think so?"
"I know so. I can see it." Mbappé extended his fist for a bump. "If you come here, we should train together sometime. I could use someone who thinks creatively like that."
Ethan bumped his fist, feeling a surge of excitement. Training with Mbappé. Learning from him. Maybe even playing alongside him one day.
Three moves ahead. This was definitely the right move.
After the tour, Philippe took them to meet Leonardo Jardim, a coach who worked with both the academy and occasionally assisted the first team. Jardim was a Portuguese man in his late thirties with sharp, intelligent eyes and a calm demeanor.
"Mr. and Mrs. Loki, please sit." Jardim gestured to chairs in his office. "Ethan, you too."
Once everyone was settled, Jardim leaned forward. "Philippe has shown you the facilities. He's told you about our philosophy. Now I want to tell you about our commitment."
"We're listening," Moussa said.
"Monaco doesn't just develop players. We develop winners. Champions. But we do it differently than the big clubs." Jardim pulled up footage on his computer—clips of former Monaco youth players now starring for major European clubs. "We give opportunities early because we believe talent should be rewarded, not warehoused. If Ethan is good enough, he will play. Age doesn't matter. Only ability."
He turned to Ethan. "I watched your match footage. I saw the goals, yes. But I also saw how you moved off the ball. How you created space for teammates. How you saw passes before they existed. That's not just talent. That's football intelligence."
"Thank you," Ethan said quietly.
"So here's what we're offering: immediate placement in our U-11 squad, with the possibility of training with older age groups when appropriate. Full academic support. Housing assistance if needed. And a clear development pathway to the first team." Jardim paused. "But I need something from you in return."
"What?" Ethan asked.
"Commitment. Discipline. Humility. You're incredibly talented, but talent alone isn't enough. You must work harder than everyone else. You must stay coachable. You must remember that football is a team sport." Jardim's expression was serious. "Can you promise me that?"
Ethan thought about his father's words. About loyalty. About making decisions based on growth, not greed.
"I promise," he said.
Jardim smiled. "Then I think we have an agreement."
They spent the rest of the afternoon exploring Monaco—walking through Monte Carlo, seeing the famous casino, eating gelato by the harbor. Marie was enchanted by everything. Aminata kept commenting on how clean and safe everything felt. Moussa remained thoughtful, analytical, making sure this decision was truly right.
As sunset painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, the family stood at the Port Hercules, watching yachts rock gently in the harbor.
"What do you think, mon fils?" Moussa asked.
Ethan looked out at the Mediterranean, then back up at the training facility perched on the hillside above. He thought about Lyon—the friends he'd made, Coach Martineau who believed in him, the comfort of familiarity.
But he also thought about Mbappé's words. About Jardim's promise. About the opportunity to develop faster, to be challenged more, to reach his potential sooner.
Three moves ahead. Always three moves ahead.
"I want to come here," Ethan said. "I want to play for Monaco."
Aminata exchanged a glance with Moussa. A silent conversation passed between them—the kind only parents who'd been together for years could have. Finally, Moussa nodded.
"Then we'll make it happen."
Marie hugged Ethan from the side. "My little brother, the Monaco player."
"Not yet," Ethan said. "I still have to prove myself."
"You will," she said confidently. "You always do."
As they walked back to the car, Ethan took one last look at the principality. The lights were beginning to come on, transforming Monaco into a glittering jewel against the darkening sea.
This is where I'll become great, he thought. This is where my story really begins.
Three moves ahead.
The first move: leaving Lyon.
The second move: succeeding at Monaco.
The third move: becoming a legend.
It all started now.
End of Chapter 6