About seven days have passed. One week.
Since my last confrontation with the master, that two-against-one where my sister and I faced him with everything we had. We used every trick, every technique, every strategy we had practiced in secret for months.
And even though we did our best, even though our swords didn't break, even though we made the master use more force than ever...
We simply were no match for him.
The difference in levels was... abysmal. Like comparing an ant to a dragon. Like comparing a drop of water to the entire ocean.
But when I really think about it, I don't feel bad. I'm not frustrated or disappointed as I should be.
On the contrary, I'm happy. More than happy.
Because the master used more of his strength than last time. Much more. And that can only mean one thing: I've become stronger. He can no longer take me lightly like before. I'm no longer that child who staggered with every blow, who dropped his sword at the first impact.
Now I endure. Now I resist. Now I fight.
And that... that's an achievement. A great achievement.
Although, if I'm honest, all of this is because it was two against one. My sister Calithia has become incredibly strong too. Her fire is more intense, her speed more impressive, her determination more fierce. Without her, none of this would have been possible.
---
Several days have passed since I made that request to mother in the garden. That crazy, outrageous, impossible request: to leave the palace and embark on a journey around the world.
But they still haven't given me a definitive answer.
Mother told me it was too early, that I'm only seven years old. But that she would talk to father about it. And since then, silence. Nothing.
They haven't told me anything.
And that silence is worse than any answer. Because my mind keeps spinning, imagining scenarios, creating possibilities, torturing myself with every option.
That's why I've decided to prepare myself.
Every night, before sleeping, I imagine receiving the worst possible news. I visualize mother telling me "no" with that serious expression she puts on when there's no room for discussion. I visualize father shaking his head, explaining that I'm too young, that the world is too dangerous.
I imagine it over and over. Until it hurts a little less.
It's my strategy: if I prepare for the worst, when the moment comes, the impact won't destroy me.
And if for some reason — a reason that probably won't happen — my request is accepted, then the joy will be even greater. Because my mind will already be convinced that the answer would be negative.
Hahaha, I think, I'm really smart, aren't I? Too smart, actually.
But then doubt assails me: what if I'm torturing myself for nothing? What if the impact, when it comes, breaks me even more? What if I'm completely wrong and this strategy only sickens my mind?
And there's also another important point, something I can't ignore:
Traveling the world is not a duty. It's not like Calithia's etiquette lessons, or Eliel's magic studies, or father's responsibilities with the kingdom. It's not something I have to do.
It's something I want to do.
And for that very reason, I, Aito Greymont, should start forgetting that idea. Yes, that's what I should do.
I have everything here. Delicious food every day. Maids who attend to every need. Guards who protect me. My room, with my bed so comfortable and soft that some mornings it's terribly hard to get up.
Why should I go on an adventure around the world to sleep on rocks or in inns with beds harder than stones?
Think, Aito, think — I repeat to myself while slapping my cheeks with both hands. You have to think it through carefully, so you don't regret it later. You can't abandon this good life for a meaningless desire. You can't do that.
I lower my head, looking at the floor. My shoulders slump, my gaze loses focus on some indefinite point.
And without thinking, I start to laugh.
It's not a laugh of happiness. It's a bitter, disappointed laugh. A laugh that rises from my chest without me being able to control it.
How funny, really. Why is that idea meaningless? Why do you think you shouldn't leave the palace? Why?
"WHY?!" I shout, and my voice echoes in the empty room.
Why should I stay in the palace?
If my dream isn't to stay here.
My dream is to travel. To know. To discover. To see with my own eyes the things mother reads to me about in books.
Why should I choose a life where I won't be happy?
I fall silent, processing my own words.
And then, I understand it.
This is already decided. Even if they reject me, I won't die because of it. I'll be able to go on a journey when I'm older. Life goes on. As long as I'm alive, as long as I'm breathing, I can fulfill my dream. Even if it's very late, I will fulfill it.
That's why what I must do now is clear.
Train.
I have to train harder. Harder than I'm already training. Until my arms can't take anymore. Until my legs give out. Until every fiber of my body screams.
Yes. That's what I must do.
---
I'm on the balcony, looking at the surroundings. My forearms rest on the stone railing. The height isn't much, barely one floor from the ground to where I'm standing.
And suddenly, an idea occurs to me.
A slightly crazy idea.
But fun.
I climb onto the railing. The wind blows gently, moving my hair. I look down. The ground seems farther from up here, even though I know it's not.
I step into the void.
There's no floor. No place to walk. I fall.
But the instant my feet leave the railing, the wind envelops me. I feel it caress me, hold me, guide me.
I descend softly, like a leaf falling from a tree. My feet touch the ground with barely a sound.
I smile.
I think I should do this every day, I think. Every time I want to go down one floor faster.
But now, what do I do? I have no training today. My sister is with the etiquette tutor, learning manners and protocol. Boring things, according to her.
I should go for a walk around the surroundings.
The good thing about all this is that my sister still doesn't know about my request. That I want to leave the palace to travel. If she knew, I'd already be in big trouble.
Mother and father aren't the problem. They can reason. They can understand.
My sister... my sister is the problem.
But I know she'll find out very soon. Mother can't keep secrets forever, and when she talks to father, Calithia will discover it.
I should mentally prepare for that moment.
I'm already imagining what she would say:
"Aito, are you crazy?!" I imagine her shouting, hands on her hips. "What do you mean you want to go on a journey and leave the palace?!"
"I won't let you go. If I have to hit you, I will."
Haha. That's something she would say. I'm completely sure.
---
Even though I have no training today, I decide to go to the training hall. Not the open-air courtyard, but the indoor one. I need to be alone, move my body, clear my mind.
"Well then, let's go," I tell myself, stretching my arms as I walk.
The training hall is empty when I arrive. Perfect.
I take off my shirt, fold it carefully, and leave it on a bench. Now I'm only wearing my tight black pants. The cool air of the hall caresses my bare skin, and for a moment, I feel that the wind and I are one.
I take a wooden sword from the rack. I swing it in a perfect arc, feeling its weight, its balance. Then I head toward the magical training dummies.
These dummies are special. They work with mana: to activate them, you have to pour a little of your energy into them. Then they enter combat mode, attacking and defending as a real person would. They're an incredible resource for training when there are no opponents available.
"Although to be honest, this is my..." I start to say, but I don't even finish the sentence.
The dummy lunges at me.
A descending cut, perfect, lethal. The wooden sword whistles as it cuts through the air.
But I dodge it. My body moves by instinct, trained by years of practice. The sword passes close, without touching me.
I step back, assessing.
The dummy follows me. Attacks again. And again. And again.
And I dodge. Again and again. Like dancing. As if my feet knew every movement before it happened.
Then I decide to attack.
I trace a perfect arc with my sword. A [Straight Line Descending Cut] , clean and direct.
The dummy blocks it, and what follows is a frenetic sequence of blows. Clang-clang-clang. Our wooden swords clash again and again, the sound filling the empty hall.
The dummy can use mana, as a real person would. So I use it too.
I tighten my grip on the hilt and channel my energy. My next blow is heavier, more forceful. The dummy blocks it with its mana-enveloped blade, but its sword cracks.
Another blow. [Descending Line] , charged with power. The dummy's sword cracks more.
A kick to the abdomen makes it retreat. And right there I lunge, while it's still off-balance from the blow.
"Bam!"
My sword strikes directly. Its sword shatters completely, pieces flying through the air.
And then, the dummy itself... a wound. If it were a real person, a deep wound would open in its chest.
End of combat.
The dummy stops, inert. It can no longer continue.
I pant, but I smile.
I think later I'll face two dummies at once, I think. Or three. I have to keep improving.