Arthur hearing all Lloyd had to say understood the gravity of the present situation. "The days ahead will be somewhat troublesome," he muttered.
Lloyd leaned back, exhaling deeply. "What is the update with the academy?"
Arthur's face livened up at his father's question. "I'll be graduating from the academy in a month's time. As it's playing out, I might be made a platoon leader upon our induction into the imperial army."
Lloyd leaned forward again, pride evident on his face. "Which Warlord will you be assigned to?"
Arthur's voice rang with excitement. "Father! Of the 12 warlords of the Empire, the academy's council is deciding to place me in Lancer's Faction."
Lloyd lost control and let out a loud laugh. "Bwah hah hah— For real? That student of mine!"
Apparently, Lloyd was once an imperial warlord, the strongest at his time, and Lancer was a platoon leader under his command. Even among other platoon leaders in the Lloyd faction, Lancer was the strongest, which earned him the captain position in the Lloyd faction.
"That bastard was strong but lacked manners. I pummeled him till I retired as a warlord," Lloyd reminisced. On hearing this, beads of sweat dripped from Arthur's face, his thoughts obvious to anyone in the room.
"That is good. I'm guessing your final assignment as an academy student is to the borderlands?" Lloyd said to a very anxious Arthur.
"Y-yes, father! After this assignment, I shall return to the domain, if only for a month, after which I'll wait for my posting."
"Hmmm... okay. That should do," Lloyd nodded. The conversation reaching its end saw Arthur asking about his mother. He and Lloyd finished up their conversation and both retired to their rooms.
"I have a long day tomorrow. I have to sleep," Lloyd said. "While you're at it, brush up your brother a little for me. Battle tactics and imperial academy standard combat - help him with that. Farcus will test his might even if he passes for a recommendation."
Hearing this, Arthur let out a sly smile as he replied, "Yes, father!"
The next morning, as the sun barely peeked over the horizon, Lloyd Briar emerged from the manor, his travel cloak billowing in the crisp morning air. Zen and Arthur stood at attention, their faces a mixture of determination and barely concealed anxiety. Tess lingered in the doorway, her eyes betraying a night of fitful sleep.
Lloyd's gaze swept over his children, his expression stern and unyielding. "Arthur, I expect you to oversee Zen's training while I'm gone. Prepare him as best you can."
Arthur nodded solemnly. "Yes, Father. I understand."
Lloyd turned to Zen, his eyes searching. "And you, Zen. Train hard. The coming years will test us all."
Zen swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his father's expectations. "I will, Father."
With a final nod to Tess, Lloyd mounted his horse. As he rode away, the siblings watched until he disappeared into the distance, each lost in their own thoughts about the challenges ahead.
Over the next four days, Arthur put Zen through an intense training regimen, determined to impart all his knowledge and skills to his younger brother.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky on the first day, Arthur led Zen to the training grounds. The air hummed with anticipation as Arthur unsheathed his sword, its polished surface gleaming in the morning light.
"Alright, little brother," Arthur said, his voice taking on a more serious tone than Zen had ever heard before. "Father's entrusted me with your training, and we don't have much time. Show me your stance."
Zen complied, drawing his own sword and settling into a fighting position. Arthur circled him, eyes critical.
"Your form is decent, but there's room for improvement. Shift your weight slightly... there. Feel the difference?"
Arthur spent the morning correcting Zen's posture and basic sword stances. They went through each position meticulously, with Arthur explaining the importance of balance and body alignment.
"A strong foundation is crucial," Arthur emphasized. "Without it, even the most advanced techniques will falter."
After a brief midday break, they moved on to footwork. Arthur set up a series of markers in the training yard, guiding Zen through various stepping patterns.
"Your feet are just as important as your sword," Arthur explained as Zen navigated the course. "Proper footwork can mean the difference between landing a strike and leaving yourself open to attack."
They spent hours on this exercise, with Arthur gradually increasing the complexity of the patterns. By the end of the day, Zen's legs ached, but his movements were noticeably smoother.
As the sun began to set, Arthur called an end to the day's training. "You've done well, Zen. Rest up tonight. Tomorrow, we delve into more advanced techniques."
The second day dawned bright and clear. Arthur wasted no time in pushing Zen to new limits.
"Today, we're going to focus on more advanced sword techniques," Arthur announced. "These are moves that have saved my life more than once in real combat."
They started with a series of complex parries and ripostes. Arthur demonstrated each move slowly, breaking down the mechanics of wrist and arm movements.
"The key is to use your opponent's force against them," Arthur explained as they practiced. "A well-executed riposte can turn defense into offense in the blink of an eye."
As the morning wore on, they moved on to more aggressive techniques. Arthur taught Zen a variety of feints and combination attacks, emphasizing the importance of unpredictability in combat.
"Never let your opponent read your intentions," Arthur advised. "A skilled warrior can use misdirection to create openings."
After their midday meal, Arthur introduced Zen to some of the more unorthodox techniques he had learned.
"Sometimes, unconventional methods can catch an opponent off guard," Arthur said as he demonstrated a particularly tricky maneuver that involved a sudden change in grip. "But use these sparingly. They're high-risk, high-reward moves."
They spent the rest of the afternoon drilling these advanced techniques until Zen's arms felt like lead. As they finished for the day, Arthur nodded approvingly.
"You're picking this up faster than I expected, little brother. Tomorrow, we'll work on applying these techniques in various combat scenarios."
The third day focused on the practical application of what Zen had learned. Arthur set up a series of training dummies around the yard, each representing a different type of opponent.
"Combat isn't just about knowing techniques," Arthur explained. "It's about knowing when and how to use them effectively."
They spent the morning going through various scenarios. Arthur would describe a situation, and Zen would have to demonstrate how he would handle it using the techniques he had learned.
"You're facing a heavily armored opponent," Arthur called out. "How do you approach?"
Zen thought for a moment before demonstrating a series of quick, precise strikes aimed at the joints and weak points of imaginary armor.
"Good," Arthur nodded. "Against such an opponent, speed and accuracy are more important than raw power."
After the midday break, they moved on to group combat tactics. Arthur brought in a few of the manor's guards to assist with the demonstration.
"In a real battle, you'll often face multiple opponents," Arthur said. "Positioning becomes crucial. You need to be aware of your surroundings at all times."
They ran through several formations and scenarios, with Arthur explaining the strengths and weaknesses of each approach. Zen found himself challenged not just physically, but mentally as he tried to keep track of multiple 'opponents' at once.
As the day drew to a close, Arthur looked satisfied with Zen's progress. "You're doing well, Zen. Tomorrow will be your final test. Be prepared for anything."
It was the fourth and final day of training, Zen arrived at the training grounds to find Arthur surrounded by a group of Briar guards, all armed with wooden swords. Even Elvis, who was usually the subject of jokes among the guards, was present.
"Today, you'll face a real challenge," Arthur announced. "These men will be your opponents. Your task is to defeat them all using everything you've learned over the past three days."
Zen's eyes widened as he took in the scene. There were at least ten guards, all looking determined and ready for a fight.
Arthur handed Zen a wooden sword. "Remember, this is as close to real combat as we can make it. Treat it as such."
With a nod from Arthur, the exercise began. Two guards immediately rushed Zen, wooden swords raised. Zen's mind raced, recalling the lessons of the past few days. He sidestepped the first guard's attack, using the momentum to parry the second guard's strike.
As the battle progressed, Zen found himself drawing on everything Arthur had taught him. He used his footwork to maintain advantageous positioning, employed feints to create openings, and utilized the more advanced techniques when the opportunity presented itself.
The guards, for their part, didn't make it easy. They coordinated their attacks, trying to overwhelm Zen with numbers. Even Elvis, despite his reputation, proved to be a tenacious opponent.
Sweat poured down Zen's face as he fended off attack after attack. His arms ached, his lungs burned, but he pushed through the exhaustion. Gradually, one by one, he managed to land decisive blows on the guards, taking them out of the fight.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Zen faced off against the last remaining guard - Elvis. Both were panting heavily, wooden swords held at the ready. Elvis lunged forward with a surprisingly quick attack, but Zen was ready. He parried the strike and, in a move that would have made Arthur proud, executed a perfect riposte.
The wooden sword stopped just short of Elvis's chest. For a moment, silence reigned over the training ground. Then, Arthur's voice rang out.
"Well done, Zen! That's enough."
As Zen lowered his sword, the guards he had defeated began to rise, some rubbing sore spots where Zen's blows had landed. There was a mix of grudging respect and surprise on their faces.
Arthur approached, a rare smile on his face. "You've exceeded my expectations, little brother. Father will be proud when he hears of your progress."
Zen, still catching his breath, felt a surge of pride at Arthur's words. But before he could respond, a piercing scream shattered the moment of triumph. Both brothers whirled toward the sound, their blood running cold as they recognized the voice.
It was Tess.
As they sprinted toward the manor, Zen's mind raced. What danger had befallen their sister? After all he had learned, would he be ready to face whatever threat awaited them?