So, after a ridiculously good breakfast—I mean, who knew Valerian's family had the best food? Actually, it was as if my taste buds were having a party—my next place was the practice area. Why? Because my body felt damp and held by skin. However, if I am to survive this backroom academy conspiracy and, even better, bring down Valerian's own life, I am going to need a figure, a plan, and a big boost. Moreover, it may be assumed that the body believes that food provides the solution to the problem at hand.
I stumbled out of the dinner parlor, with my stomach practically to give birth but oddly content. With a full belly, I set off for the training grounds, because hey, who needs rest when you've got the motivation of someone who's essentially living in a body that couldn't lift a spoon without shaking?
The training areas stretched for miles, and could in fact be used to simulate pretty much any type of fight that could be done with them, sword fights, magic trials, etc. It was absurd. This place could probably train an army—though I'm fairly sure my "army" would consist of me, a sword I barely knew how to hold, and a few confused horses.
I went to the floor of the training room and could see rows and rows of weapon racks and dummy targets. I could almost see Valerian about somearking if I narrowed my eyes. literally nothing of any positive use. He must have been a one of the wizards of wasting talents or waste potential. Lucky me, I'm now stuck trying to fix it.
However, although I feigned to dream about the moment appealingly and "seemed to be" there rather than being from the past or future, I noticed someone walking by on the curb. Someone who, frankly, should not be out here alone.
It was [Leon,The Knight Commander] The guy was practically made of muscle and reputation. He was quite comfortable as thumb to Grandpa, a top gunner, a shining knight, and—to be honest—too good (damned good, really) for a business like this. But there he was, the black knight in the shadows of the American night, a steel and intimidating statue set against the blue and red hues of the evening firmament. Of course, it had to be him, right?
"Hey, Leon," I called out, casually strolling toward him.
Leon turned, raising an eyebrow. "Young master? You're up early."
I smiled and tried not to appear as if I might black out. "Yeah, couldn't sleep. Needed a change of pace, you know? I thought I'd take a walk and, uh, just get the lay of the land."
Leon blinked at me, clearly expecting a different answer. It's almost like he wasn't prepared for me to be serious about anything—especially not training.
"Didn't think I'd see you out here. What brought you to the training grounds?"
I waved my hand in an exaggerated motion. "Eh, just thought I'd check out the view. You know, the massive field and all. Could be fun to get some practice in, too."
There was a pause. Leon's gaze shifted from casual to confused. It was like he was trying to figure out if I'd just taken some head injury or if I was messing with him.
"Practice?" He repeated, obviously caught off guard. "You? Practice?" He laughed softly but the kind of laugh that was pre-fearing I'm gonna take a nap instead).
But I wasn't kidding. At all.
"Yep. I'm serious, Leon. I want to train."
Leon's pupils narrowed, as if he wished to be absolutely sure that I was just fooling about or whatever. But no, I wasn't. I leaned in and I joked, even if I wasn't truly telling one.
"I'm weak. Ridiculously weak. I'm done living on chance, I, cannot, be out here surviving on hope. I need to be strong. And no, I'm not talking about magic or whatever these 'heroes' are always talking about. I need actual strength."
Quietly even Leon was silent for a moment and a calculating expression settled upon his features–the easy joviality disappeared from his visage. "You want to train with a sword?"
I shrugged dramatically, not caring how over-the-top I looked. "Why not? Of course, I am not the next swordmaster, but at least I can gain something. Actually, it's better than just sitting idly, yes?"
Leon blinked twice, clearly processing that. "I've known you since you were a child, young master. You've never been interested in sword fighting or anything else that requires physical effort."
"Yeah, I've been thinking differently now," I crossed my arms and tried to appear as unbothered as possible, but the truth was, I might have been walking like the coolest 15 seconds of the most clichéd action movie. And if I'm going to have to live in this world, I might as well become just a person from whom it's worth being more than just whining about being pathetic.
For a moment, Leon looked unsure, like he didn't know whether to laugh or stare at me like I'd just told him I planned to start a dragon-petting business. But, he sighed, as he smiled wistfully.
"You're serious about this?" His voice "updated" in a way to become deeper, and his behavior also changed. The casual mentor act was about to be withdrawn and replaced with the commander—the serious man.
"Yep. And I want to start today."
Leon stopped and glanced at me [briefly] and exhaled. "Alright, if you're really determined, I'll teach you. But know this—it won't be easy. If you're ready to work, then we'll start right away."
I nodded eagerly. "Hell yeah, I'm ready. Let's do this."
For a moment, Leon's features slightly defused, mentorship barely outpacing the praise for duty. "I've watched you grow, Valerian. You're like a little brother to me. And yeah—it's high time, you stop being a coward."
I grinned wider, feeling the adrenaline already kicking in. "Let's get to it, then."
(A/N: If you all are thinking why everyone are casual with him, because he is not those type noble who trash talk his own maid or bodyguard as his father is always watching on him but,still he has his pride of being noble only infront of others or infront of commoners)