Chapter 12: Progress and Bonds
Days passed, and with them, Argus's routine remained steady, almost unyielding in its discipline. His mornings were a symphony of physical exercises, void training, and mental drills. The progress he had made was undeniable; each day, the void flowed more smoothly under his control, and the boundaries of his power stretched further than ever before. But for Argus, it was never enough. He constantly sought refinement, pushing himself to make his movements sharper, his control more precise.
After his void training, the familiar faces of his tutors greeted him—Loric, as keen as ever on dissecting battle strategies and anticipating his next move, Vernal droning on about the intricacies of political landscapes and the subtleties of negotiation, and Calista, with her infectious enthusiasm for music, always encouraging him to find the balance between control and letting go.
Argus absorbed the lessons, filing away each new piece of information. He had grown accustomed to this routine, but there was always a part of him that longed for something more. It wasn't just about learning or training—it was the desire to shape the world around him, to take hold of the power building inside.
Beyond the walls of the study halls and training rooms, Argus's life extended into the mansion, where he had slowly but surely formed relationships with the people who worked there. His connection with Rhea, Darius's third wife, had been a gradual process, one that developed not through intent but circumstance. It was Lily, Rhea's daughter, who had first bridged the gap between them, running into his life with all the boundless energy a younger sibling could muster.
Now, Rhea had become a more familiar part of Argus's days, though their bond was different from the ones he shared with his tutors or even his mother. Their interactions were quieter, unspoken, and yet comforting in their simplicity. It was never forced—simply a natural development that arose from spending time together, whether by accident or in the moments where their paths crossed during the day.
One afternoon, after an especially exhausting void training session, Argus found himself wandering into the greenhouse—a peaceful retreat nestled at the edge of the estate. The scent of flowers and the soft trickle of water from the nearby fountain filled the space with a sense of calm.
Rhea was there, tending to the plants, her hands carefully brushing over the petals of delicate flowers. She looked up when she saw him enter, a gentle smile tugging at her lips.
"Argus," she greeted, her voice light. "Taking a break from all your hard work?"
He gave a slight nod, stepping further into the greenhouse. "Just needed a change of pace."
Rhea turned back to the flowers, her fingers working delicately as she continued her task. "You've been pushing yourself a lot lately. Even more than usual."
Argus shrugged, though he knew she was right. "I have to."
"There's nothing wrong with taking a moment for yourself," she said, her tone soft but firm. "You don't always have to be in control."
Her words echoed something Calista had said to him during one of their music lessons. Let go, she had told him. Not everything can be controlled.
"I'm fine," he replied, though his tone was more automatic than genuine.
Rhea didn't press the issue. She knew him well enough by now to recognize when to let things lie. Instead, she finished with the flowers and motioned for him to follow her. They stepped out into the garden, where the sun hung low in the sky, casting everything in a warm, golden light.
"You spend a lot of time in here," Argus observed after a few moments of quiet.
Rhea glanced around the garden with a soft smile. "It's peaceful. It reminds me that not everything has to be complicated. These plants... they just grow, you know? With a little care and time, they flourish without trying to be anything more than what they are."
Argus tilted his head slightly, considering her words. "I suppose that's true."
"You're a lot like them," Rhea continued, her tone thoughtful. "You work hard, but sometimes, you forget that growth happens even when you're not pushing so hard."
Argus fell silent at that, her words sinking in deeper than he cared to admit. His entire life had been built around the idea of striving—of always becoming something more. But perhaps there was truth in what Rhea said, in allowing himself the space to simply be for a moment, rather than constantly striving for the next goal.
They walked in silence for a while after that, the sound of their footsteps barely audible over the soft rustle of the garden's leaves. Rhea's presence was soothing, a quiet counterbalance to the rest of Argus's life, which was often dominated by the demands of power, training, and expectation.
As they approached a stone bench near the edge of the garden, Rhea sat down, patting the spot beside her. Argus hesitated for only a moment before taking the seat.
"You're doing well, Argus," Rhea said gently, turning her gaze toward him. "You may not always see it, but you're growing into someone remarkable."
"I don't feel that way," he admitted, though his voice was quiet, almost unsure.
"That's because you're always focused on what's next," she replied. "But those of us around you? We see it. You've come a long way, even in such a short time."
Argus didn't know how to respond, but there was something about Rhea's calm reassurance that made him feel... seen. Unlike his tutors or even his mother, Rhea didn't push him toward greatness—she simply acknowledged the person he already was.
Later that evening, after spending time with Rhea, Argus wandered back toward the courtyard. He found Lily where she always seemed to be—playing with her ball, bouncing it against the walls, her laughter filling the air. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting the estate in the soft, golden hues of twilight. He paused for a moment, watching her play. There was a carefree innocence about her that was hard to ignore, and it brought a smile to his face, despite himself.
Lily spotted him almost immediately and waved, her face lighting up with excitement. "Argus!" she called out, bouncing the ball toward him. "Come play!"
Argus smiled, knowing this was a regular part of their day, but today felt a little different. After his conversation with Rhea, the urge to relax, to let go, lingered in his thoughts. He didn't feel the usual need to return to his studies or continue training just yet. Instead, he found himself walking over, catching the ball effortlessly as it rolled toward him.
"Alright, but I'm not going easy on you this time," he said with a playful smirk.
Lily grinned back, her eyes gleaming with the challenge. "You never do!"
They started their usual game of catch, but it quickly evolved into something more unpredictable. Lily, always full of energy and tricks, began sending the ball in all directions, trying to keep him on his toes. Argus, despite himself, found it enjoyable, chasing after the ball with a lightness he hadn't felt in a while.
"You're getting better," Argus said, tossing the ball just out of her reach to test her agility.
Lily huffed but laughed. "I've had a good teacher!"
The simplicity of their game allowed Argus to just be—no pressures, no expectations. The movements came naturally, and he wasn't thinking about control or perfection. He was simply enjoying the moment, playing with his sister, and it was... freeing.
After a while, Lily threw the ball high into the air, far out of Argus's reach. Determined not to let her outdo him, Argus sprinted after it, leaping at just the right moment to catch it. But in his haste, he lost his footing, stumbling backward until he splashed into the shallow fountain nearby.
Water sprayed everywhere as Argus landed with a splash, completely soaked. Lily's laughter rang out, loud and bright, as she clapped her hands in delight.
"You're all wet!" she giggled, doubling over as her laughter grew uncontrollable.
Argus sat up, water dripping from his clothes, and for a moment, he simply stared at her, his expression caught between disbelief and amusement. But then, he started laughing too. It was ridiculous, but in the best way possible.
"That was your fault," he said with a grin, his tone light.
Lily shook her head, still laughing. "It wasn't me! But it was perfect!"
Argus climbed out of the fountain, water still dripping from his sleeves, and shook his head, but his smile remained. "I suppose I deserved that."
The game was forgotten as they both stood there, laughter fading into contentment. Argus hadn't realized how much he needed this—the freedom to let loose, to be a little reckless, and to laugh without holding back.
Later that night, as Argus sat in his room, still drying off from his unplanned dip in the fountain, he reflected on the day. Rhea's words echoed in his mind, and for once, they made sense in a way he hadn't anticipated.
Not everything had to be so serious all the time. There was value in these moments too—in playing with Lily, in laughing at his own mistakes, and in letting go, even if just for a little while.
Maybe, just maybe, there was something to be gained from the quiet and carefree moments after all.