The wind bit through the training yard, carrying the scent of damp earth. Mori gripped his wooden practice sword tightly, his small frame straining against the gusts. The rising sun barely pierced the morning mist clinging to the estate.
At eleven, Mori was a daily presence in the yard. His mornings began early, mimicking the movements of the estate guards. Though their style was basic—practical for defending walls—it was all he had, and he practiced with relentless determination.
His mother's words echoed in his mind: "To be worthy of your father's love, you must be strong." Liana, his mother, was a woman of few smiles and sharp discipline. As a concubine to Lord Darius Valkoria, her life revolved around ensuring Mori's strength, shaping him into someone who could claim his father's attention. There was no time for games, only training.
Footsteps broke Mori's focus. Emerging from the house were several figures, led by the tall and imposing form of Lord Darius. His dark hair streaked with silver, his presence radiated authority. Flanked by knights, including the familiar Commander Edric, his father rarely visited the estate.
"Still at it, young master?" Edric's voice boomed. "You've got the makings of a warrior."
Mori flushed, bowing quickly. "Thank you, Commander."
Lord Darius, deep in conversation, glanced at Mori. His grey eyes assessed him coolly. "Is that my son?" he asked.
"Aye, my Lord," Edric replied. "He's been training every day since he was five."
Lord Darius raised an eyebrow, then turned to Mori. "Do you want to spar?"
Mori froze, heart pounding. This was his chance. Swallowing his nerves, he nodded. "Yes, Father."
Lord Darius handed his sword belt to a knight and picked up a wooden practice sword. "Let's see what you've got."
The yard fell silent as they faced off. Lord Darius moved with effortless precision, his strikes sharp and deliberate. Mori struggled to match him, the guard swordplay too clumsy against his father's refined technique.
Yet Mori refused to falter. Drawing on years of relentless practice, he adapted, his movements growing sharper, more fluid. He began exploiting small openings, his strikes fueled by raw determination.
Lord Darius, initially amused, grew impressed. "You've got fire, boy," he said after disengaging. "My other children could learn from your dedication."
He stepped back, nodding approvingly. "I'll bring you to the capital soon to live with me."
Mori's heart soared. "Thank you, Father," he managed, his voice thick with emotion.
"Rest now," Lord Darius said, his rare smile lingering. "You've earned it."
As the group returned to the house, Mori stood in the yard, the morning sun warming the estate. He raced inside, eager to share the news.
"Mother!" he burst into Liana's quarters, his excitement spilling over. "Father sparred with me! He said I was good! He's taking me to the capital!"
Liana set aside her sewing, her expression unreadable. "I told you hard work would pay off," she said. "But this is only the beginning. You must train even harder now."
Mori's smile faltered. "But, Mother…"
"You've caught his notice," she continued firmly. "But you are not yet worthy of his name. The real work begins now."
Mori bowed his head, determination replacing his fleeting joy. "Yes, Mother."
As he left, Liana watched him go, her face unreadable. Picking up her sewing, she allowed herself a fleeting thought: the journey was only beginning.