PREVIOUSLY-
As the training finally ended, trainees exited the training grounds in a systemic order. Many engaged in conversations; some ran towards the water tumblers.
"Hey Sig," Leon walked towards Sigmund who was lazily leaning on a tree, calmly watching Leon from the branch he was sitting.
"Young Master," Sigmund dropped to the ground, "The test for you is…."
—X—
{Albert Camus, an absurd philosopher wrote this sentence at the end of his famous 1942 essay, 'The Myth of Sisyphus'-
[The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.]
In the myth, Sisyphus is condemned to roll a boulder up a hill for eternity, only for it to roll back down every time it nears the top. Success is literally impossible by divine decree.
Camus argued that once Sisyphus accepts this "failure" as his reality, he is no longer a victim of the gods. He becomes the master of his own fate because he chooses to keep pushing anyway.}
"Survive five blows against Instructor Galahad."
"Huh?" Leon's mouth opened to a grin before his senses could catch up, "Just five blows? That's easy."
His torso leaned inwards,
"I will just complete this task right now."
Leon walked towards Galahad who was now preparing to leave the grounds.
"Instructor Galahad!" Leon stepped forward, rolling his shoulder, "I would like to request a spar."
Galahad bowed lightly, "And I refuse."
"Why?!" Leon exclaimed.
"Well," Galahad blushed a little, "I have a date with my wife tonight… Wait! Why am I explaining myself to a trainee?!"
"Oh," Leon snickered, "Sir Galahad, I am not asking as a trainee. I am a young master now that the training is over. I ask this as the Young Duke."
The response made Sigmund's lips arc a little. But Galahad was too stunned to speak.
He blinked once.
Then twice.
"Hahaha!" he broke out in a laugh, "If it's an order from the Young Master, then I cannot refuse."
He picked up a wooden sword form the rack,
"Would you like to start now?"
"Very well!" Leon lunged, his sword pulled back for a heavy swing.
FWISH!
Galahad's sword touched Leon's nape as the knight appeared behind Leon.
"It seems our spar has concluded. Young Master."
A bead of sweat trickled down Leon's cheek,
"Once more!"
A FEW MINUTES LATER-
Galahad slid his sword back into the rack.
"Fufu… I must say, your tenacity is quite amazing Young Master."
He glanced at Leon who was covered in sweat, yet the spark in his eyes burned brighter than before.
"Rest for now, you can challenge me tomorrow."
Even Sigmund tapped a hand to Leon's shoulder,
"Rest well, Young Master. Recovery is important."
"Tch," Leon slumped to the ground, his teeth bearing a grin that wasn't happy.
His chest heaved as his fist tightened,
'Out of eight spars, not once, even once, could I last one move against the instructor!'
However, his posture loosened a little,
'Looks like I need his help.'
With a newfound resolve, Leon stepped outside the training grounds. As soon as he stepped foot inside the corridor leading to the interior, a barrage of figures greeted him.
In the large cafeteria hall, every person fell to one knee the moment Leon stepped inside.
"WE GREET THE YOUNG MASTER!"
The greeting struck him all at once but what made his heart tighten was the flawless discipline on display.
Then, one by one, each instructor introduced themselves to Leon.
Freya, the instructor from before returned, her auburn hair tied in a ponytail, her black eyes meeting Leon's gaze with respect,
"I, Freya Leonhart, the physical education instructor of the senior trainees, greet the Young Master."
As she stood up, a warm smile softened her expression,
"I must commend your determination Young Lord. Your spar with my husband left me in awe."
"Ah—wait!" Leon smiled, "Sir Galahad is your…"
"Yes, he is." Freya's cheeks reddened a little.
"Haha," Leon bowed, "Good luck for the date, Dame Freya."
Confusion briefly crossed Freya's features, but before she could push further, a slim figure cut in.
"Forgive the intrusion, Young Master."
Brown eyes peered at him from behind thin-rimmed spectacles,
"I am Silas Vane, the instructor for the 'Eyes of Lion' cadre and its vice-captain."
"Vice-captain?" Leon asked,
"I apologize my lord," Silas pushed back his black bangs, "But our captain is in isolated training for the time being."
"Okay." The boy replied, overwhelmed by the sudden surge of reverence.
Following him stepped forward a man with a humongous frame,
"Garrick Thorne, the instructor and vice-captain of the 'Claws of Lion' cadre, greets the Young Master."
Introductions followed as each instructor greeted the Young Duke,
"Kaelen Leonhart, the instructor and vice-captain of the 'Fangs of Lion' cadre, greets the Young Master."
"Isolde Valer, the instructor and vice-captain of the 'Mane of Lion' cadre, greets the Young Master."
"Fiona Leonhart, the swordsmanship instructor for the senior trainees, greets the Young Master."
"Alistair Morne, the instructor for senior mage trainees greets the Young Master."
Finally, a bald head came forward from the crowd as a senior instructor kneeled,
"No need," Leon frantically reached out, but the man firmly held his discipline,
"Erasmus Leonce, the professor for compulsory theory greets the Young Master."
And before Leon could get another sigh of relief, another line of cadets and trainees had formed in the cafeteria.
A FEW HOURS LATER-
"Lancelot…" A half-dead Leon muttered as the knight laid out the food with strategic precision on the table before.
"What is this…?" He pointed weakly to the few cadets in the area who were accompanied by maids and butlers.
"Is keeping a butler allowed here?"
Lancelot shook his head in denial,
"It is not allowed, whether the trainee is a commoner or a noble. However,"
He pointed to the female cadets,
"It is stipulated for female cadets to be accompanied by a maid or butler. The rule allows some flexible exemptions for boys who are from border territories."
Leon munched on his steak, pretending to think thoughtfully,
"What about commoner girls then? Many can't afford to hire a maid, can they?"
"They are allotted one by the fortress."
"What if a spy enters."
"Each person inside the fortress goes through stringent vetting, so it isn't an issue."
"With all the preferential treatments these girls are getting,"
He pointed to himself,
"Don't you think we boys need to petition for equal rights?"
Lancelot took a large gulp of soup,
"That My Lord… Is actually concerning!"
"Hahaha!" Both men began cackling as Sigmund, who sat between them could only sigh.
'Where have I got myself stuck.'
"Anyways," Leon wiped a tear from his eye,
"What do you do, Sir Lancelot?"
"Well, I am the captain of the ' Claws of Lion' cadre."
"Oh, is that so…WHAT?!" Leon's eyes widened in shock,
"Does that mean, that huge guy from before was your subordinate?"
Lancelot set down his fork, pondering for a moment before replying,
"Ah, Garrick? That cute lad? Yes, I am his superior."
Leon's lips curved into a nervous smile,
'Cute?' he slightly shifted his chair away from Lancelot, 'This guy has crazy tastes!'
Then, suddenly, a thought ignited in Leon's mind,
"Speaking of business," the atmosphere became tense as Leon crossed his hands, even Galahad changed his expression, his face locking into an exaggerated seriousness, the kind artists reserved for absurdly grave moments,
"Your word is my command."
Leon drew closer, "Tell me everything about Sir Galahad."
Lancelot leaned closer, "Do you perhaps, My Lord,"
His face turned more serious, "Have a taste in grown geezers?!"
"Huh?" Sigmund dropped his spoon; his eyes turned to Leon with a horrified expression which had suddenly turned black and white.
"Do not question my preferences, Lancelot. I like meat."
Leon assumed an overly solemn expression, jaw set as if posing for a dramatic portrait
"Just tell me everything you know about him."
Lancelot tried to purse his lips in a straight line but was effectively failing to do so,
"Bwahaha! Okay, Young Master. I will tell you everything about that lazy bastard."
AT NIGHT-
The room was unadorned but practical. Two bunk beds occupied one side; the lower bunk converted into a compact study desk. A wide window stood at the far end, its view veiled behind heavy curtains.
Leon sat on his chair, scribbling across the parchment.
'Done!' he chuckled.
Then, like a guilty thief, he checked if his roommate, Sigmund, was asleep. Satisfied, the boy slipped outside, and made his way to the garden behind the dormitory.
"Donkey eats grass." A whisper came from behind an oak tree.
"Monkey eats fruits." Leon replied.
A figure stepped down from the canopy, Lancelot.
"I have arrived, Young Master." He bowed in greeting.
Leon, now unfazed by the formal courtesies, thrust forward the rolled parchment,
"As discreetly as possible, look for a tavern named 'Duskin Tavern', meet the owner and tell him 'From the Young Duke' the man will take care of it."
Lancelot shrugged, "As you say, Young Master."
His brows knit together, "However, Young Master how and why do you know such places?"
Leon in response, dismissed him with a flick of his hand, "Don't worry, just deliver the letter."
"I admit," he said brightly, "That went right over my head."
A FEW DAYS LATER-
"Young Master," Sigmund sighed as him and Leon walked towards a small mansion, "Please, let me rest."
"Nah," Leon shook his head, "Not happening."
He glanced at the mansion's balcony, "Its time for my 102nd spar with Galahad."
"INSTRUCTOR GALAHAD! I CHALLENGE YOU TO A SPAR!"
A frustrated Galahad with veins snaking from his temples lunged from the balcony,
"Young Master," he gritted his teeth, "Please leave me alone!"
"Hoh?" Leon charged without wasting a moment, "How can a student leave his lovely master alone?"
He pulled out his dagger, aiming to use 'La Alta Destreza' for reasons that aligned more with his wolfish grin rather than tactical strategy.
As they neared, Leon deliberately attempted a thrust of his dagger.
'Hah, he is still showing the same openings as before,' Galahad pulled back his arm, 'I thought a genius like him would be better. Maybe I guessed wrong.'
Galahad's unforgiving sword moved for Leon's exposed right collarbone, making full use of the difference in reach.
However, before the sword could reach him, Leon threw the dagger towards the blade. The sword strayed slightly from its path as Leon blocked the assault with his sword.
'W-What?!' Galahad stepped back a bit, 'What an unexpected development. It seems the Young Master has also developed the ability to think on his feet.'
'Amazing! To think a five-year-old could achieve such!' his expression turned into a thin line,
'However, this is not how a Leonhart fights.'
'Third Stance: Crescent of the False Moon.'
With a twist of his hips, Leon pulled all the strength he could from his legs to perform a crescent arc.
'What a power! To think a five-year-old can swing with such ferocity!'
Galahad calmly swung upwards, aiming to disarm Leon.
But, just before the sword could complete its path, Leon relaxed his shoulders, his grip loosened a little, making the sword move through pure inertia.
'Now!'
Then with a sudden force, he changed the sword's trajectory to an impossible vector, minimizing momentum loss while changing the path.
WHAM!
The swords clashed once again, Leon had successfully blocked the second strike, however the impact left his grip trembling in pain.
'Once again!' Galahad's eyes widen a fraction, 'How did he use it?! That technique given to only the duke and his successors… Way of the Crowned Lion!'
'How did he even manage to learn three techniques at such a young age?!'
Before Galahad could ponder more, another swing aimed for his exposed side. The knight responded with another swing to Leon's shoulder.
'First Stance + Second stance'
Leon jumped just before he could enter Galahad's arc, using the nearby tree as a support, he lunged higher.
Leon positioned himself above Galahad, his blade angled so that sunlight temporarily shone the wood. The sun appeared like a mane behind Lion's head.
'(Self-Derived) Twenty fifth stance: Pridefall Cleave'
Like a pride of lions descending, Leon's sword moved at such speeds, that it seemed that multiple swords were aiming for Galahad.
However, this speed was nothing for Galahad.
Leon's lips twitched upwards, 'Caught you!'
His body turned mid-air, his sword moved in a descent slash, making Galahad step back half step.
As soon as Leon descended, Galahad's stab came for his nape.
THUD!
Preserving his momentum as much as he could, Leon flowed into another radiant horizontal swing, blocking Galahad's sword for the third time.
'Respect! I have nothing more but respect left for you, Young Master. To think unlike most kids and geniuses who fall down after a few defeats, you are still pushing yourself. To think I still have much to learn.'
Galahad smiled, his grip tightened,
'It makes me want to teach you more. If I can be the catalyst for your growth, so be it!'
"H-How?!" Sigmund couldn't believe his eyes; his hands tightened into a fist "How did he improve so much in such a short time? And what is that swordsmanship?"
Tears gathered, threatening to flow as Sigmund hung his head in shame,
"I-If only, I had a talent like that."
A FEW DAYS EARLIER-
Leon sat on the windowsill, his eyes devouring the beautiful moon,
"Vayren…"
KRAAA!
A red arrow shot towards him, something that illuminated the whole area like a sun. A fantastical crimson soaring through a veil of black.
As the projectile neared, the entire area transformed into day. The warmth, the light and the charisma of sun settling in the surroundings.
Then, it flapped his wings. No, they were merely flames disguised as wings. The mythical phoenix quietly positioned itself on the branch before Leon's window.
Its beak shone in the same colour as his eyes. From its tail, four trails of fire emerged. The bird was nothing but an incarnation of fire. Its physique mirrored that of a hawk, yet its size was that of a vulture.
Even its flames stood white at the center, covered by thin layers of yellow and red.
But the most terrifying of all was the fact that though the entire area's temperature had increased by multiple degrees. Neither the branch in contact with it burned, nor did Leon's eyes which stared at the creature hurt from its magnificent blaze.
Its eyes, a void of molten gold mirrored Leon's reflection in them. It was as if the phoenix was examining Leon like a jeweler appraises his diamonds.
"Boy," A deep resonant voice echoed in Leon's head,
"Are you the son of Leonhart?"
Terrified, yet thrilled, Leon grinned with a nod,
"Yes, I am, great creature."
"Skip the pleasantries," the phoenix waved his wings.
"And, here."
From the flames emerged a sealed envelope, its red seal in the form of Duskrane family's sigil.
Leon took the letter with shaking hands. Strangely though he felt the warmth, the flames did not harm his hands.
"A piece of advice for you, young boy." The phoenix turned.
"That white-haired maniac, don't trust him so easily. I don't know how you are related, but—"
The phoenix glanced back at Leon for the last time,
"He is an unpredictable variable, a dam of stone that alters the flow of world as it pleases."
With the cryptic advice, the phoenix flapped his wings, soaring to the sky and disappearing above the clouds.
Then, just like it came, it disappeared. Like a shooting star tearing through the night.
As soon as Leon resumed his bearings, he looked around. Even when such an unbelievable phenomenon occurred, Sigmund was still fast asleep.
And he was not alone, even the birds which slept on the same tree were undisturbed by the phoenix's appearance.
Nevertheless, he calmly opened the letter inside the envelope. As Leon read the letter, his brows narrowed,
'It isn't the Leonhart style, but if this helps…'
[ Dear Leon,
How are you? Are you training diligently? No, of course you are! Just remember that veggies are also important, though not as much as meat.
Regarding your question to survive five blows from an instructor. The answer is, you can't.
However, remember, where there is Vincent, there is a way.
So, here's how you survive five strikes. But first—
{Sisyphus is doomed to push forward the stone, that is the flow of his destiny. But what happens when an opportunity to change your fate arrives?
Is embracing the unknown truly the right answer? }