Kenshin jolted awake, his heart pounding as if he had run a marathon. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead as he sat up abruptly in bed. "What a crazy dream," he muttered, trying to piece together the fragments of the nightmare that had gripped him. "Me, in a different world?" He blinked, looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings, the reality slowly seeping back into his mind. He wasn't in his small apartment anymore; this wasn't the world he knew.
"Oh, that's right," he sighed, letting his body relax as he slumped back against the bed. "I am in a different world." There was no escaping it; no waking up to find himself back in his old life. He was here, in Brighthold, whether he liked it or not.
"Whatever," he grumbled to himself, before slapping his cheeks lightly, a habit he had when he needed to snap out of his thoughts. "Let's get to business."
Kenshin dressed quickly, donning the simple tunic and trousers that had been left for him. He had no time to dwell on the intricacies of court life or the looming responsibilities. He needed to adapt, to survive, and the first step was strengthening his body. He had always been in decent shape, thanks to his construction work, but he knew that would not be enough in this world. If he was to face whatever challenges lay ahead, he needed to be prepared. And that meant learning how to fight.
The training grounds of the palace were vast, filled with every kind of weapon Kenshin could imagine and many he couldn't. The early morning sun cast long shadows across the grounds as he picked up a spear, feeling its weight, then shifted to a mace, testing its balance. Each weapon felt foreign in his hands, awkward and unfamiliar. He was used to tools, hammers, and chisels, not instruments of war.
He swung the mace half-heartedly, grimacing as it thudded heavily into the ground, nearly pulling him off balance. "This is harder than it looks," he muttered under his breath, discarding the mace and moving on to a sword. As he picked up the blade, something clicked. The sword was light, its weight evenly distributed, and as he gave it an experimental swing, he found it moved with a fluid grace that the other weapons lacked.
"You look like you're getting the hang of it," a voice called out, breaking his concentration.
Kenshin turned to see General Elara leaning casually against a post, her arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. She watched him with a mix of amusement and curiosity. He had seen her in passing before, but this was the first time they were alone.
"Maybe," Kenshin replied, a bit sheepishly. "But I've got a long way to go. I feel like a complete amateur."
Elara pushed off the post and walked toward him, her eyes assessing his form. "Well, you are an amateur," she teased, though there was no malice in her tone. "But you've got potential. And I suppose a sword suits you. It's a good choice, all things considered."
"Think so?" Kenshin asked, holding the sword up, trying to picture himself in battle. It still felt surreal.
Elara nodded. "Swords are versatile, and they're the weapon of choice for most who are quick on their feet. You don't look like a brute, so a sword is a better fit than, say, a war hammer."
"Thanks... I guess," Kenshin said, smiling despite himself. "Mind giving me a few pointers? I could use the help."
Elara raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. "You're asking me to train you? That's a tall order. I don't go easy on anyone, especially someone who has never held a sword before."
Kenshin shrugged, determined. "I'm not asking you to go easy. I'm asking you to make me better."
Elara looked at him for a moment, as if weighing his resolve. Finally, she nodded. "Alright. But if we're going to do this, you have to train your body first. Swordplay isn't just about swinging a blade. It's about endurance, strength, and speed. And right now, you're lacking in all three."
Kenshin grinned, the challenge sparking something inside him. "I've done hard work before. I'll manage."
Elara's eyes gleamed with approval. "We'll see."
The next few hours were grueling. Elara put Kenshin through a rigorous exercise routine that tested every muscle in his body. They started with basic calisthenics—push-ups, sit-ups, and squats—before moving on to more intense drills. Kenshin found himself running laps around the training grounds, lifting heavy stones, and swinging a wooden sword until his arms burned with the effort.
His breath came in ragged gasps as he pushed himself to keep up with Elara's relentless pace. Memories of his bricklaying days flashed through his mind, the long hours under the hot sun, the strain of lifting heavy loads, the satisfaction of a job well done. He had been strong then, his body used to physical labor, but this was different. This was combat training, and it was a whole new level of intensity.
But he didn't give up. He refused to.
When the training finally ended, Kenshin was lying flat on his back, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving. He glanced over at Elara, who stood over him, barely winded, her expression one of mild amusement.
"You're not bad," she said, offering him a hand to help him up. "But you've got a lot of work to do."
Kenshin took her hand, pulling himself to his feet with a groan. "I'll get there," he promised, wiping the sweat from his brow. "We'll keep this up every day until I can keep up with you."
Elara's expression softened slightly, a rare sight for the stern general. "Alright, we'll train every day. But remember, it's not just about the physical. You need to be mentally sharp too. You've got to be ready for anything."
Kenshin nodded, determination burning in his eyes. "I will be."
He turned to leave, glancing back at her with a small smile. "Thanks, Elara. For the training... and for not going easy on me."
Elara looked away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Just don't make me regret it."
With that, Kenshin headed back to the palace, his mind already shifting to the next task at hand. He had more than just physical training to worry about. The kingdom's finances were in shambles, and it was up to him to find a way out of the mess.
The office was a far cry from the dusty training grounds. Kenshin stood in the center of the room, eyeing the ornate decorations with a critical gaze. Gold-trimmed furniture, tapestries, and priceless vases—luxuries that did little to ease the kingdom's growing financial strain.
"If we sold some of these, we might just get the money we need," he muttered to himself, running a hand over an intricately carved desk. But he knew it wasn't enough. The real wealth was hidden in the treasury, buried in ledgers and accounts that hadn't been touched in years.
As if on cue, a group of courtiers entered the room, each carrying a stack of boxes. They set them down on the floor with a collective sigh, looking relieved to be rid of their burdens.
"These are the files you requested, Lord Kenshin," one of them said, gesturing to the boxes. "All the reports from the treasury and palace accounts over the past few years."
Kenshin nodded, eyeing the mountain of paperwork. "Good. But I don't need all these in the office," he said, looking around the cluttered room. "Haul them out and bring in desks. You're going to work with me on this."
The courtiers exchanged puzzled glances, but they complied, quickly moving the boxes out of the room and setting up desks as Kenshin had ordered.
Once everything was in place, Kenshin placed a stack of papers on each desk. "These are the reports you'll be auditing," he explained. "This is going to be a long-term project, so mark any discrepancies you find and bring them to me. We need to know where every coin has gone."
He took his own seat, a massive stack of ledgers from the treasury in front of him. "I'll be going through these to find any lost treasures or hidden funds. If we're going to keep Brighthold afloat, we need every resource we can get."
The courtiers nodded, a newfound determination in their eyes as they settled in to work. Kenshin watched them for a moment, feeling a surge of pride. These were the people he would be working alongside to save the kingdom, and he was determined to lead them by example.
The afternoon passed in a blur of numbers and calculations. Kenshin worked tirelessly, his mind focused on the task at hand. The more he delved into the records, the more discrepancies he found—missing funds, unaccounted-for expenditures, and vague entries that raised more questions than answers. It was clear that the kingdom's financial problems were deeper than anyone had realized.
Just as he was beginning to feel the weight of the task ahead, the door to the office swung open, and Elara walked in. She stopped short, her eyes widening as she took in the scene before her—courtiers bent over their desks, scribbling furiously, the room buzzing with activity.
"What in the world is happening here?" she asked, clearly astonished.
Kenshin looked up from his work, a tired but satisfied smile on his face. "We're auditing the reports on the tenders given from the palace," he explained, waving a hand at the courtiers. "And I'm going through the treasury to find any lost treasures. We're trying to piece together the kingdom's finances."
Elara raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "You're really diving into this, aren't you?"
Kenshin shrugged, his expression serious. "I don't have a choice. If we don't fix this, the kingdom could collapse. I'm just doing what needs to be done."
Elara looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "I see. Well, I won't keep you. Just... don't overdo it."
Kenshin chuckled, shaking his head. "No promises. But thanks for the concern. I'll explain everything to you later."
With that, Elara left the room, leaving Kenshin to his work. He watched her go, then turned back to the ledger in front of him, his resolve stronger than ever. This world might be different, and the challenges might be greater, but Kenshin was determined to make a difference. And he would start by finding a way to save Brighthold, one number at a time.