Arthur woke up brimming with determination, ready to take the first step toward improving himself. After dressing in an outfit suitable for training—a simple tunic and fitted trousers—he stepped out of his chamber, the cool morning air refreshing his senses.
To his surprise, the valet was already standing outside, perfectly poised as always. Arthur paused, briefly astonished. Does this man ever sleep? I didn't even warn him I'd be training this early. It's barely 4:50 in the morning, and yet here he is, ready and waiting. How does he always manage to be this prepared? Arthur suppressed a smile as he approached.
The valet, momentarily taken aback by Arthur's unusually early start, quickly regained his composure. He stepped forward with a polite bow. "Your Highness, what brings you out so early in such attire? Might I presume you intend to train this morning?"
Arthur nodded, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "Yes, I've decided it's time to take things seriously. If I expect the kingdom to improve, I need to lead by example, starting with myself."
The valet's expression softened into a rare look of approval. "A commendable resolution, Your Highness. Shall I accompany you to the training grounds, or would you prefer I prepare something for your return?"
"No need to accompany me to the training grounds," Arthur said with a faint smile. "However, while I'm training, could you restock the paper and ink in my chamber? I'll need them later."
The valet inclined his head respectfully. "As you wish, Your Highness."
Arthur nodded and set off toward the training grounds. The predawn world was tranquil, the soft chirping of birds and the gentle rustling of leaves creating a peaceful backdrop. The cool air brushed against his face, refreshing and invigorating. By the time he arrived, the training grounds were already bustling with activity.
Knights sparred with one another, their swords ringing sharply in the early morning light. A few practiced their footwork, moving with precision and focus, while others ran laps or performed exercises designed to push their endurance to its limits. Every movement exuded discipline, and the determination etched on their faces was palpable.
Arthur paused at the edge of the field, his gaze sweeping over the scene. His eyes landed on Klein, who was in the middle of demonstrating a technique to a group of knights. Klein moved with practiced ease, his form impeccable, commanding the full attention of his audience.
As Klein's eyes caught sight of Arthur approaching, he ended his demonstration, handing the training weapon to one of the knights. Wiping his hands on a cloth tucked into his belt, he strode over to Arthur, his expression a mixture of respect and curiosity.
"Your Highness," Klein greeted, bowing slightly. "It's rare to see you this early. What brings you to the training grounds at this hour?"
Arthur smiled, his tone light yet firm. "I've decided it's time to take my training seriously. I can't expect the kingdom to improve if I don't hold myself to the same standard."
Klein raised an eyebrow, impressed. "A wise decision, Your Highness. Discipline and strength are vital for a king who wishes to inspire his people. Shall I assist with your training?"
Arthur shook his head. "No, carry on with your duties. I want to start with the basics and build from there. After a few exercises to warm my blood, I'll come to you for sword training"
Klein nodded, a flicker of approval crossing his face. "Very well, but I'll keep an eye on your progress. If you need guidance even on basic training, don't hesitate to ask."
Arthur stepped onto the field, drawing the attention of the knights. A momentary hush fell over the group as they noticed their king, clad in simple training attire, striding onto the grounds with purpose.
"Don't mind me," Arthur called out, his voice carrying across the field. "Continue your training. I'm here to train, just as you are."
The knights exchanged surprised glances, murmurs rippling through the group, but they quickly resumed their exercises. Arthur, meanwhile, surveyed the field, deciding to begin with a simple warm-up—a lap or two around the track where soldiers were running.
The track stretched out before him, roughly the size of a football field. Arthur took a deep breath and steadied himself. It's just a warm-up. One lap to start, he thought, adjusting his stance and beginning at a brisk pace.
However, within mere seconds—barely 40 meters in—Arthur's breath came in ragged gasps. His legs burned, his chest heaved, and sweat poured down his face. A dizzying lightheadedness threatened to topple him.
What the hell? Arthur thought, his mind reeling. This isn't even halfway across the field, and I feel like I'm about to die! My lungs are on fire, my head is spinning... How out of shape is this body?
He stumbled to a halt, leaning forward with his hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath. I wasn't an athlete back on Earth, he mused, but I could at least run a decent distance without feeling like I'd collapse. This body, though—it's like dragging a sack of bricks uphill.
Arthur glanced down at himself, his oversized training attire clinging to his sweat-soaked, overweight frame. He couldn't help but grimace. How am I supposed to wield a sword or command an army when I can't even make it 40 meters?
Despite his frustration, his legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the ground, sprawled out and gasping for air. Time seemed to stretch as he lay there, willing his heart to slow and his breathing to stabilize.
A few knights running nearby slowed their pace, their eyes flicking toward him with a mix of concern and thinly veiled disappointment. Their king, struggling to manage even the most basic physical activity, was a disheartening sight.
One knight, out of courtesy, stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "Your Highness, are you alright? Should we fetch someone to assist you?"
Arthur forced a strained smile, waving the concern away as he sat up. "I'm fine," he panted, his tone resolute despite his embarrassment. "Carry on with your training. Don't let me distract you."
The knight hesitated but eventually nodded, retreating to rejoin the others. Arthur watched as the soldiers resumed their drills, the unspoken judgment in their expressions a bitter reminder of how much he needed to change.
As the dizziness began to subside, Arthur clenched his fists. This body is weak, but I can't let that define me. I have no choice but to start from the very bottom, even if it means enduring their disappointment. I'll earn their respect, one step at a time.
With a deep breath, Arthur slowly stood up, steadying himself. He adjusted his posture, gazed at the track again, and whispered under his breath, "One step at a time. I'll get there." Determined, he resolved to complete the lap—even if it meant alternating between jogging and walking.
After what felt like an eternity, Arthur finished his first lap, his body drenched in sweat and every muscle screaming in protest. Collapsing onto the ground, he stared up at the sky and sighed. I can't begin any serious training until I build enough stamina to even run properly.
Determined not to wallow in frustration, Arthur decided his focus would be on improving his endurance first. After catching his breath, he forced himself back onto his feet and started another lap. He repeated the cycle: running as far as he could before exhaustion claimed him, resting briefly, and then continuing. For two grueling hours, Arthur pushed himself. While only one hour was spent actively running, the sheer effort left him completely drained.
As he lay on the ground, utterly exhausted, Klein approached him, concern evident in his expression. "Are you all right, Your Highness?" Klein asked, crouching slightly.
Arthur, his chest heaving, managed a faint smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just... need to train more. This body's not in shape yet, but I'll get there."
"That's the right mindset to have," Klein replied, nodding in approval. Then, with a measured tone, he added, "Also, I've completed the task you gave me yesterday. I've found a mage who's trustworthy and willing to serve as your personal bodyguard."
Arthur gave a weary nod. "That's great news. For now, though, I need breakfast. Introduced the mage to me around 9. I'll be waiting for you in my chamber around that time."
"Understood, Your Highness." Klein inclined his head respectfully and returned to the sword training grounds, where he was supposed to supervise the knight training."
After resting a while longer, Arthur pushed himself up and left the training grounds, heading back to freshen up and eat. Once he departed, the knights remaining on the track began whispering among themselves.
"Did you see that?" one knight sneered. "Our so-called king can't even complete a proper lap without collapsing. Pathetic."
Another knight interrupted, his tone sharp. "Hold your tongue. Whatever his past faults, at least he's trying now. As knights, isn't it our duty to support someone who's making an effort, especially our king?"
The mocker hesitated, struggling for a response, but another chimed in. "He didn't give up. He kept going for hours, even when it was clear he was struggling. That kind of perseverance deserves some respect."
"Yeah," a third knight added. "He's starting to train. Let's hope he keeps it up and doesn't quit tomorrow."