Days passed by quietly in the Starling mansion. The events of Emilia's awakening and the dark mage's attack seemed to fade into the background for Alexander. However, his mind was now consumed with something else—his upcoming training. After his parents promised to teach him the sword and magic, his excitement had been uncontainable.
One bright morning, Alexander was in his room, swinging a wooden sword around with enthusiasm. His movements were unrefined but filled with the energy of a young boy eager to learn. His room was large, filled with books, toys, and a small wooden practice dummy in one corner. He would imagine himself as a great warrior, cutting down enemies, saving his sister, and becoming as strong as his father. He swung the sword again, his arms growing tired.
Knock, knock.
The sound at the door startled him, and he dropped the sword to the floor with a soft clatter. He rushed to the door, his small hand reaching for the handle and swinging it open. Standing before him was a large, imposing figure with golden hair and a silver suit of armor that shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the window. His face was marked by a scar beneath his left eye, and his presence filled the room with authority and warmth.
"Uncle Robb!" Alex yelled in excitement, abandoning all formality. He hugged the man's leg tightly, his small arms barely able to wrap around it.
Robert, the vice commander of the Starling Knight Squad 1, laughed, patting the boy's head with a gloved hand. "Alex, it's good to see you too," Robert said with a broad grin, his voice deep but gentle. "But I'm not here to play with you today, young master. Your father has summoned you to the family training grounds."
Alex's eyes widened with surprise and excitement. "Really? Father said that? That means...he's going to teach me sword fighting today!" he exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Robert chuckled and ruffled Alex's hair again. "Yes, it's time for your training. Let's not keep him waiting."
"Don't call me 'young master,' Uncle Robb! Call me Alex," the boy insisted, glaring up at the towering knight.
Robert smiled, amused. "But you are the young master of the Starling family. How can I, a knight, call you anything but?"
"Call me Alex!" Alexander punched Robert's armor with his small fist, barely making a sound.
Robert finally relented, laughing softly as they began walking down the hallway. "Alright, alright. Alex it is."
They made their way through the grand corridors of the mansion until they reached a pair of majestic doors that led to the Starling family's exclusive training ground. Robert pushed them open with ease, revealing a vast, verdant field, surrounded by tall stone walls. The ground was covered in soft grass, and training dummies, weapon racks, and various magical equipment were scattered throughout the space. In the middle of it all stood Armon Starling, holding two training swords. His presence dominated the field as if he were part of the very earth itself.
Alex stopped in his tracks, wide-eyed at the sight. He had never seen the training ground in such detail before, nor had he seen his father look so serious. "Father!" he yelled, waving his hand and running toward him.
Armon smiled gently and opened his arms, catching Alex as he threw himself into a hug. "Alexei, are you ready for your first real sword training?"
Alex nodded eagerly. "Yes, father!"
Armon handed him one of the wooden training swords and watched as Alex grasped it with both hands. He studied his son's grip and posture, noticing something remarkable—the way Alex held the sword seemed instinctual. There was a natural talent in his stance, one that Armon hadn't even seen in Emilia at Alex's age.
"Show me how you swing, Alexei," Armon said, his voice calm but firm.
Alex lifted the sword high and swung it down with all his might, grunting with effort. The sword wobbled slightly in his hands, but the force behind it was impressive for someone so young.
Armon nodded, impressed. "You have potential, Alexei. But you still need practice."
Armon moved behind Alex, gripping the sword along with his son's hands. He guided the boy through the motion, showing him how to properly swing without wasting energy. "Like this," Armon instructed. "It's smoother, easier. Now try again."
Alex's eyes lit up as he mimicked his father's movements. "Wow! It's easier this way, father!"
Armon smiled. "Good. Now, I want you to repeat that swing one hundred times."
"One hundred?" Alex asked, wide-eyed but excited. He couldn't believe he was already training like a real knight.
"Yes, one hundred. After that, I will teach you the first step of the Starling Sword Dance," Armon said, crossing his arms.
Alex's excitement grew. He started swinging the sword, his energy at its peak. Each swing was full of enthusiasm, but after thirty swings, his arms began to tremble. His movements slowed, and sweat started to drip from his brow.
Armon noticed the struggle but didn't intervene. He knew Alex would need to learn how to push through discomfort, but at the same time, he didn't want to push his son too hard on his first day. He watched as Alex continued swinging, his face full of determination. By the sixty-fourth swing, Alex's arms were shaking uncontrollably, and his grip on the sword weakened.
"Alright, that's enough for today," Armon said, stepping forward and gently stopping Alex's next swing. The boy dropped the sword and slumped to the ground, panting heavily. He looked up at his father, disappointed.
"I couldn't finish..." Alex said, his voice full of frustration.
Armon knelt beside him, placing a hand on his head. "You did more than I expected, Alexei. You did sixty-four swings in one go. When your sister first started, she could only do fifty-eight."
Alex's face brightened at the praise, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
"Remember this, Alexei," Armon said, standing up and looking down at his son. "Failure is a part of becoming strong. My father used to say, 'Only those who know failure can truly succeed.' If you face a wall, don't stop. Climb it. If you can't climb it, break it."
Alex smiled, his spirits lifting. "Yes, father. I'll keep going."
Armon nodded, proud of his son's resolve. "Good. And remember, the key to becoming stronger is practice. We'll train again tomorrow, and the day after that, until you're as strong as you want to be."