The morning sun was bright and steady, casting a golden hue over the sprawling Marshall estate. Hector sat cross-legged in the training courtyard, his muscles sore but his spirit resolute. The memories of the previous day's battle in the colosseum played vividly in his mind. He could still feel the adrenaline, the thrill of combat, but also the sting of his missteps. Across from him, his grandfather Alistor paced with the commanding air of a seasoned general, his sharp eyes studying Hector as though seeing right through him.
"You survived," Alistor began, his voice steady and cool. "But surviving isn't enough. Every mistake, every hesitation, is a step closer to death. You cannot afford that."
Hector nodded, his jaw tightening. He'd replayed every moment of the fight in his head through the night—the red caps darting at him from every angle, the relentless strikes of the pukwudgies, and the crushing weight of the bicorn's hooves. He knew Alistor was right.
Henry stood nearby, arms crossed, his expression softer but no less focused. "Your instincts are good," he said, breaking the silence. "But instincts alone won't carry you. You must learn to control the fight, not react to it. You've got the strength, the speed, the recovery... but you let them dictate the battle."
"What should I have done?" Hector asked, his voice laced with both frustration and determination.
"Divide and conquer," Alistor interjected. "You were surrounded, but you didn't use the terrain to your advantage. That colosseum wasn't just a battleground; it was a tool. The pillars, the ledges—they were there for a reason. You failed to use them."
Henry crouched beside Hector, drawing lines in the dirt with a stick. "Here," he said, sketching the positions of the creatures and Hector during the fight. "When the red caps closed in, you should've used their numbers against them. Get them to cluster in a narrow space, limit their movement. And the pukwudgies? Those arrows would've been useless if you'd taken cover here." He tapped a spot on the crude map.
Hector studied the sketch, nodding slowly. "I see it now," he said, his tone thoughtful. "I need to think faster, plan ahead."
"Exactly," Henry said, standing and brushing off his hands. "Body magic gives you an edge, son, but it doesn't make you invincible. You regenerate faster, you recover energy quicker, but that only matters if you're alive to use it."
Alistor smirked faintly. "You're learning, boy. That's the first step. Now, let's move on to the second: discipline."
The lesson continued, with Alistor and Henry recounting stories of their own battles—moments of triumph, but also of near defeat. Each tale carried a lesson, a nugget of wisdom that Hector absorbed with eager determination.
As the morning stretched on, the sound of light footsteps approached. Diana arrived, a tray of steaming tea and biscuits balanced in her hands. Her presence brought a warmth that contrasted with the stern atmosphere of the training grounds.
"Still lecturing him, I see," she teased, setting the tray on a nearby table. Her eyes softened as they met Hector's. "You did well yesterday, Hector. But there's more to fighting than just swinging a sword."
She took a seat beside him, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "Do you know why we preserve some creatures and not others?"
Hector hesitated, then shook his head. "No, not really."
Diana's gaze turned thoughtful. "Magical creatures are an integral part of our world, Hector. They're not just obstacles to overcome or resources to exploit. They balance ecosystems, influence the flow of magic, and provide invaluable materials for potions, spells, and artifacts. But if we're reckless—if we destroy without thought—we risk losing something irreplaceable."
"The bicorn I faced yesterday," Hector said slowly, "its horns are used in potions, right?"
"Precisely," Diana replied, her expression encouraging. "But imagine if every wizard hunted them indiscriminately. What would happen to the potions that rely on those horns? Or to the magical fields they inhabit? Preservation is as important as strength."
Henry nodded, adding, "Knowing when to fight and when to preserve is what separates a warrior from a butcher. The red caps and hags you'll face—they're threats. But a thunderbird? A unicorn? They're sacred. Respect them, and they'll respect you."
Alistor leaned against a nearby pillar, his sharp gaze fixed on Hector. "This isn't just about strength, boy. It's about responsibility. We Marshalls don't fight for sport or glory. We fight because we must, to protect what matters."
Hector absorbed their words, the weight of their wisdom settling over him. He had always admired his family's power, but now he saw the depth of their understanding, their care. It wasn't just about being strong—it was about being worthy of that strength.
As the sun climbed higher, Alistor's expression shifted to one of quiet contemplation. "He's ready for more responsibility," he said, glancing at Henry and Diana. "It's time we start thinking about a mount for him."
Hector's eyes widened, excitement bubbling in his chest. "A mount?"
Henry grinned. "A Graynian or a unicorn, perhaps. It's time you learned what it means to truly bond with a creature. A mount isn't just something you ride—it's a partner, one you'll depend on in battle and beyond."
Diana smiled, her eyes gleaming with approval. "But a mount is a privilege, Hector, not a gift. You'll need to prove you're ready. A Graynian is no ordinary steed, and a unicorn demands respect and patience."
Hector's heart swelled with determination. The idea of having his own mount, a creature as majestic and powerful as those he had seen his family ride, filled him with pride. He vowed to prove himself worthy, to show his family that he was ready for this next step.
The rest of the day passed in quiet reflection, the family's words echoing in Hector's mind. He knew the road ahead would be challenging, but he also knew he wasn't alone. With his family's guidance and his own growing strength, he felt ready to face whatever came next.