(Commander Reinhardt's PoV)
The ground trembled beneath Commander Reinhardt's feet as the sounds of battle echoed across the valley. The air was thick with the smell of blood and the roar of monsters. Despite the chaos, Reinhardt's thoughts drifted, as they often did, to memories of a time long past—a time when the young man leading them now had been nothing more than a boy, full of questions and energy.
*Marcus Aurelius*. He had grown so much. Reinhardt's mind replayed the countless times Marcus had come to him, eager to learn the art of the sword. The boy had been relentless, even at the tender age of eight, showing a focus and determination that had always reminded him of Duke Aurelius.
---
It had been on one of those long, cold northern mornings when Marcus had first come to him, clutching a wooden sword almost as big as he was, his red hair wild in the wind. Reinhardt could still remember the stubborn look in the boy's eyes, a mirror image of his father's when he had trained under the same sky.
"Commander Reinhardt, teach me to fight!" the boy had demanded with a voice too loud for his small frame.
Reinhardt had smiled then, amused by the boy's boldness but impressed, too. "Swordsmanship isn't just swinging a sword around, young lord. It's discipline, patience."
"I know," Marcus had insisted, his grey eyes burning with fierce determination. "But I want to protect my family, protect the duchy. Like Father."
It had taken Reinhardt a moment to agree, but the sincerity in Marcus's voice had left no room for refusal. From that day on, Marcus trained diligently, learning not just how to fight but the **strategy and tactics** that came with leadership. He wasn't just another noble boy playing at war—Marcus wanted to understand **why** battles were won or lost. He was always asking, always learning.
---
Now, watching Marcus command the army on the battlefield, Reinhardt couldn't help but marvel at how far the boy had come. No longer a child, Marcus was standing at the head of the Grand Duchy's forces, guiding them with a calm confidence that belied his young age. Even though Marcus hadn't yet awakened as an Adept, his mind was sharper than most seasoned commanders.
Reinhardt glanced over at Marcus, who was surveying the battlefield with eyes far older than his seventeen years. **He looks so much like his father**. It was uncanny—the red hair, the piercing grey eyes. But there was something different, too, something uniquely Marcus. He was a thinker, a strategist, in a way Duke Aurelius had never been.
---
The plan Marcus had devised was brilliant. With just 2,000 soldiers, many of whom were only Tier 1 Adepts at best, they were up against an overwhelming force of monsters. Yet Marcus had devised a way to trap the beasts using the natural terrain, something even Reinhardt hadn't considered.
"Archers, fire!" Marcus's voice rang out over the battlefield, calm but commanding. The soldiers obeyed without hesitation, loosing arrows infused with Essentia at the approaching monsters. "Elementalists, prepare to bring down the cliffs!"
Reinhardt watched in awe as the cliffs collapsed in a cloud of dust and rubble, trapping a portion of the monsters. It was a risky move but perfectly timed. The monsters were caught off guard, their charge faltering as they scrambled to avoid the falling rocks.
The soldiers Marcus had positioned along the ridges unleashed their attacks, thinning the ranks of the monsters before they could regroup. **Brilliant**, Reinhardt thought. The boy had anticipated every move, every reaction.
Reinhardt himself fought alongside his men, cleaving through the hide of a smaller beast that lunged at him. He was a Tier 3 Sentinel, and his strength was far beyond that of most of the soldiers under his command. But even with his power, Reinhardt knew the real strength of this battle lay in **Marcus's mind**, not brute force.
---
As the battle continued, Reinhardt couldn't help but reflect on just how much Marcus had grown. The young lord had stepped into the role of Grand Duke far sooner than anyone had expected, but he had taken on the burden with a grace and resolve that few men twice his age could have managed. **It was uncanny how much he resembled his father**, but in so many ways, Marcus was already surpassing him.
Reinhardt's thoughts lingered on Duke Aurelius, a man of great power and presence, a Tier 5 Divinity who had commanded respect across the empire. His death in that Tier 5 dungeon had left a void in the duchy, one that no one had expected a seventeen-year-old boy to fill.
And yet, here was Marcus, commanding the very army his father had once led, fighting against the odds to protect the duchy from annihilation.
"Your Grace!" Reinhardt called, riding up beside Marcus as the young man continued directing the battle. "The monsters are regrouping. We've trapped some of them, but more are coming from the east."
Marcus nodded, his expression thoughtful but unshaken. "We'll lure them into the valley," he said, pointing to a narrow pass ahead. "Reinforce the barricades and prepare the men for a defensive line. We'll hold them there and wear them down."
Reinhardt couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. Marcus wasn't just reacting to the battle—he was controlling it, guiding every movement like a master tactician. It was no wonder the men followed him so readily. Despite his youth and inexperience with Essentia, Marcus had a mind that was unrivaled on the battlefield.
---
As the monsters charged toward the valley, Reinhardt took a moment to survey the field. They were outnumbered, outmatched, and yet, under Marcus's leadership, they were holding their own. The men fought with a renewed sense of purpose, their faith in their young Duke giving them strength.
Reinhardt couldn't help but think back to when Marcus was just a boy, swinging that wooden sword with all his might, determined to be like his father. Now, in the heat of battle, it was clear to Reinhardt that Marcus was more than just a reflection of Duke Aurelius—he was **something greater**.
And as the battle raged on, Reinhardt felt a deep sense of pride in the man Marcus had become.
"Your father would be proud," Reinhardt murmured to himself as he charged forward to join the fray once more.