The training field buzzed with life. The metallic clash of swords echoed in the air, mingling with the shouted commands of instructors and the synchronized rhythm of soldiers' boots marching in unison. A haze of dust, stirred by the vigorous movements of warriors, hung in the air. Bathed in sunlight, the scene looked like a living painting, with strength and discipline as the leading characters.
I walked slowly, taking in every detail. The soldiers were divided into groups, each focused on a specific discipline. Some practiced hand-to-hand combat, while others trained with bows, their arrows slicing through the air in precise trajectories. In the distance, banners bearing the crest of the Delacroix family fluttered in the wind, a constant reminder of the lineage that led this army.
Then, my eyes found the figure I was looking for. He stood in the center of the field, unshakable like a mountain. The War Master.
Clad in gleaming armor and standing with unyielding posture, he radiated authority. His face, marked with scars that bore witness to past battles, and his eyes, intense and filled with the experience of a man who had faced death and won, made approaching him a nerve-wracking task.
— I've arrived, War Master, — I announced, trying to sound confident, though my voice was less steady than I'd hoped.
He turned to me slowly, sizing me up with a gaze that seemed to pierce straight through my soul.
— You're awfully bold, aren't you? — His voice was deep, rumbling like thunder. — Do you think it's acceptable for the captain of the First Battalion to show up at this hour?
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his displeasure. I lowered my head, avoiding his piercing gaze. — I'm sorry, Master.
For a moment, he remained silent, studying me. Then his hardened expression softened slightly.
— Son, are you all right? — he asked, his voice laced with concern.
I looked up, surprised by the change in tone. — Yes, sir, — I replied, still hesitant.
He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to unravel a mystery. — You've never apologized before.
My heart raced. I tried to think of how Zephyr would normally respond. — Never is... — I murmured, glancing away.
The War Master frowned, clearly puzzled by my behavior. After a moment, he sighed, running a hand through his graying hair.
— I've been too hard on you. After all, you just came back from a battle.
I seized the opportunity to shift the subject. — Well, I didn't want to say anything, but yeah, I'm exhausted. If I train now, it'll look like I've never held a sword before.
He let out a short laugh, though his eyes remained serious. — Then stay here and watch their training with me. But there's something we need to discuss.
He gestured for me to follow him, walking toward a large, imposing structure on the edge of the training field.
The building was made of solid stone, with banners and crests hanging from its exterior walls. The hallway we entered was long and well-lit, with torches casting dancing shadows over portraits of past warriors. Each face seemed to scrutinize me, judging my presence.
We entered a spacious room that could only be the War Master's office. A massive wooden desk dominated the space, covered with maps, documents, and weapons. The opposite wall was occupied by a large window offering a panoramic view of the training field, where soldiers continued their drills.
The War Master walked to the desk and placed his hands on it, staring at me with seriousness.
— Son, you know I've gotten you out of trouble more times than I can count, but I won't always be here to protect you. You understand that, don't you?
I nodded, feeling the weight of his words. — Yes, Master.
He tilted his head, studying my expression. — The crown prince has made another complaint about you.
I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. — Seriously, is he a child who always needs to tattle?
The War Master's brow furrowed, his expression hardening again. — Son, this is serious.
I sighed, trying to hide my irritation. — I know. It's just... I hate protagonists like him.
He raised an eyebrow, confused. — Protagonist? Have you been reading too many of your cousin's romance novels?
— No, it's just that he seems so fake, — I replied, looking away.
— That doesn't matter. — His voice returned to its commanding tone. — He's the crown prince, and you must respect him. More importantly, you need to stop plotting against him.
I let out a dry laugh, crossing my arms. — Fine.
— Do you truly understand the gravity of this situation? — he asked, his eyes boring into mine.
— I do, — I replied, sighing deeply.
He watched me for a moment, as if gauging my sincerity, before turning and walking to the door.
— Then let's return.
— Yes, — I agreed, following him back to the training field.
Time seemed to crawl as I watched the soldiers train. The clash of swords and the shouted commands became background noise to my wandering thoughts. My mind drifted to my sister. Where could she be? Had she also reincarnated in this world?
The idea of staying in this place was tempting. Wealth, power, and a harem of women were within my grasp. But the lack of technology and, above all, the absence of my sister weighed more heavily than any benefit.
I sighed, standing up. If she hadn't come to this world, she must be worried about me.