The training yard was quieter than usual the next morning.
Alaric noticed it as soon as he shuffled into the dirt clearing, dragging his staff like it weighed more than his entire body. The same children who had laughed and jeered yesterday were standing farther back today, whispering among themselves, stealing glances his way.
Heh. That's right. Fear the rabbit.
He grinned smugly at the thought, though his body didn't agree with his ego. Every muscle still ached from yesterday's duel. His arms trembled just holding the staff. His golden eyes were sharp, but the rest of him looked like a mess: hair sticking out in every direction, shirt wrinkled, and dirt still smeared on his cheek.
Ashen, standing in his usual silent vigil at the edge of the yard, tilted his head ever so slightly. His silver-gray eyes seemed to say, You look pathetic.
Alaric made a face at him. Shut up. Style points don't matter. Winning does.
"Ready?" Kael's deep voice cut across the yard. The scarred warrior stood by the weapon rack, arms crossed, watching Alaric like a hawk.
"No," Alaric replied flatly.
"Good." Kael tossed him a smaller practice staff. "Then we start."
Alaric groaned, dragging himself into stance.
But before Kael could begin, another voice called out.
"Wait!"
It was Ryn.
The older boy stepped into the yard, wooden sword in hand. His dark hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his green eyes sharp with challenge. He looked every bit the confident villager child—taller, sturdier, practiced. But there was something else there now, under the bravado: a flicker of annoyance… and respect.
Alaric raised an eyebrow. "Oh great. It's you again. Didn't you get enough yesterday?"
Ryn's jaw tightened. "You cheated."
Alaric gasped dramatically. "Excuse me? That was skill! Brains over brawn! Strategy! The art of war! Sun Tzu himself would be proud!"
Some of the kids watching snickered. Even Kael's mouth twitched, though he quickly hid it.
Ryn stepped closer, gripping his sword tighter. "You used magic. It wasn't a fair fight."
Alaric tilted his head, golden eyes gleaming mischievously. "…So you admit I won."
Ryn flushed. "T-That's not what I—!"
Alaric smirked wider. "Ah, the sweet sound of defeat." He leaned on his staff like a tired old man. "Don't worry, kid. Happens to the best of us."
"I'm older than you!" Ryn snapped.
"Exactly my point."
The crowd of children burst into laughter. Ryn's ears turned red as he glared at Alaric. But behind the embarrassment, there was no real malice.
Kael raised a hand, silencing them. His gaze flicked between the two boys. "…Another duel, then. No magic this time. Only strength and skill."
Alaric groaned loudly. "Why do I feel like I'm being punished for being awesome?"
"Because you are," Kael said flatly.
Ryn's lips twitched. For a second, he looked like he might laugh—but he quickly shook it off, setting his stance.
Alaric sighed, dragging himself upright again. His small frame looked fragile against Ryn's solid build. But his golden eyes were steady, and his staff hummed faintly in his grip, as though even without magic it belonged there.
Kael's arm dropped. "Begin."
Ryn lunged first, swinging fast. Alaric barely raised his staff in time—clack! The impact jolted his arms. He hissed, wobbling back.
Ryn pressed forward, quick and relentless. His strikes weren't wild; they had rhythm, control. He wasn't just some bully with a sword—he had real training.
So that's how it is, huh? You're actually good.
Alaric's grin faded into something sharper. He adjusted his grip, letting instinct guide him.
Block. Step back. Twist. Parry.
Each strike rattled through his body, but he held on, eyes narrowing. His messy snow-white hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. His chest heaved, but his focus didn't break.
Ryn gritted his teeth, frustrated. "Why won't you just fall?!"
Alaric puffed out his cheeks mid-block. "Because—ow—that would—ow—hurt!"
The crowd laughed again, tension breaking for a moment. Even Ryn's lips twitched despite himself.
But the fight wasn't over.
Ryn swung low—Alaric barely hopped aside, stumbling but keeping upright. He jabbed forward, staff tapping Ryn's ribs before bouncing back. Not enough to count, but enough to make Ryn grunt.
Alaric smirked. "Gotcha."
Ryn growled, swinging harder now. Alaric blocked, staggered, almost dropped his staff—but at the last second twisted, letting Ryn's sword glance off.
The duel was even. And the children watching knew it.
Gasps, whispers, wide eyes.
This wasn't a joke anymore.
The wooden sword came down hard.
Alaric twisted at the last second, staff snapping up to catch it—crack! The shock rattled through his tiny arms, but he held. His golden eyes burned, stubborn fire pushing him to stay upright.
Ryn growled, sweat dripping down his face. "Stop… dodging… and fight!"
Alaric huffed. "You're… hitting me! That counts as fighting!"
He shoved forward, their weapons grinding against each other. For a moment, the taller boy's weight threatened to crush him—but Alaric let go with one hand, pivoted, and swung his staff low.
Thwack!
The strike caught Ryn's shin. He yelped, stumbling. The crowd of kids erupted in gasps and laughter.
Ryn's face burned red. "You little—!"
He lunged again, faster now, wooden sword slicing in quick arcs. Alaric scrambled, blocking each one, arms shaking like twigs in a storm. His chest heaved, sweat dripping down his pale skin. His snow-white hair stuck out in wild tufts, his thin frame trembling—but he refused to let go.
Don't fall. Don't break. Not this time.
He grit his teeth, catching another strike, twisting his staff to shove Ryn off balance. For a heartbeat, the two locked eyes—green against gold, pride against defiance.
Then both shouted and swung at the same time.
CRACK!
The clash echoed across the training yard.
Both boys staggered back, breathing hard, arms trembling.
The crowd was silent now, wide-eyed.
Alaric's fingers slipped—his staff nearly dropped—but he forced it back up, wobbling on unsteady legs. His whole body screamed to collapse, to quit, but something burned hotter inside him.
"I… I'm not… losing…" His voice cracked, small but fierce.
Ryn's green eyes widened at the words, then narrowed with the same stubborn fire. "Neither am I!"
They lunged again.
Staff and sword collided, wood splintering. Both pushed, sweat and stubbornness driving them, until finally—
WHACK!
Ryn's sword flew from his hands, clattering into the dirt.
Alaric's staff stopped just short of his chest, shaking in his grip.
The yard erupted.
"He did it again!"
"No way—twice?!"
"That cursed boy's crazy!"
Alaric swayed on his feet, panting hard, golden eyes wide with the thrill of victory. A grin spread across his flushed face. "…Hah… Two for two… You're not so scary, Ryn."
Ryn froze, chest heaving, fists clenched at his sides. His pride was cracked, but not broken. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, meeting Alaric's tired grin.
And for the first time, he smirked back.
"…Not bad… rabbit."
The cheering and whispers carried across the training yard until Kael's voice cut through them like a blade.
"Enough."
Silence fell. Even Ryn and Alaric, still catching their breath, froze.
Kael stepped forward, boots heavy against the dirt. His sharp eyes flicked to the wooden sword lying in the dust, then to Alaric's trembling hands clutching the staff.
"You both fought like children."
The words stung. Some of the kids in the crowd looked away, embarrassed on their behalf.
Kael's gaze settled on Ryn first. "You're older, stronger, and yet you let anger guide your strikes. You wasted energy on brute force when precision would have ended the fight quickly. Pride nearly cost you."
Ryn flinched but didn't argue. His fists clenched tight at his sides, his green eyes lowering.
Then Kael's gaze shifted to Alaric.
"You. Clever, yes. But reckless. You pushed your body past its limit, and without control your staff was more luck than skill. You won twice, but if either fight had been real, you'd be dead by now."
Alaric's grin faltered. His golden eyes flicked down, guilt tugging at him despite his stubborn pride.
Dead, huh… yeah, guess that tracks.
But then he smirked faintly. "Still better than losing."
Kael's scarred brow twitched, but instead of snapping, he let out a sharp breath—half a sigh, half a laugh. "…You really are stubborn."
"Lazy and stubborn," Alaric corrected, wobbling slightly as he leaned on his staff. "Don't forget the full package."
A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd. Even Ryn smirked despite himself, shaking his head.
Kael, however, stayed stern. He straightened, voice carrying across the yard. "Both of you will train harder from now on. If you waste energy, you'll fail. If you rely only on tricks, you'll fail. And if either of you let pride blind you—" his gaze sharpened, cutting across the two boys—"you'll die. Remember that."
The children fell silent again, the weight of his words settling heavy over them.
Alaric's grin faded. He swallowed hard, small chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. He hated to admit it, but Kael was right. If that fight had been against a real monster, his body wouldn't have carried him through.
His legs gave out, dropping him onto the dirt with a thud. "Ow… yeah… body says nap time now."
Some of the kids laughed nervously. Others whispered again, unsure whether to admire or fear him.
Ryn stepped closer, offering a hand. His face was still red, but his green eyes held no malice now—just a grudging respect. "You're tougher than you look."
Alaric blinked at the hand, then smirked. "And you're not as scary as you act."
Ryn rolled his eyes but didn't pull his hand back. After a long second, Alaric grabbed it, letting himself be hauled to his feet. His staff wobbled in his grip, but he stood, panting and grinning.
Ashen finally moved from his post at the edge of the yard. His pale butler-like coat swayed as he stepped forward, silver-gray eyes calm but sharp. Without a word, he draped his coat over Alaric's small shoulders, shielding him from the chill of the forest breeze.
Alaric blinked up at him, surprised. "...You're too dramatic, you know that?"
Ashen didn't answer. But the faintest pause in his motion—the tiniest hesitation as his cold fingers brushed Alaric's hair from his eyes—spoke more than words.
For the first time, Alaric didn't joke. He just leaned into the touch, chest loosening, tired body finding strength in the silent care.
The other children stared, unsettled but fascinated. Even Kael's sharp eyes lingered for a moment longer than usual before he turned away.
"Training's over. Rest. Tomorrow, we start again."
The kids dispersed, chattering, stealing glances back at Alaric and Ashen. Ryn lingered last, giving Alaric one more nod before heading out.
Alaric yawned, his small frame sagging under Ashen's coat. "Tomorrow, huh…? Sounds like torture already."
Ashen's silver eyes flicked down, steady and unyielding.
Alaric groaned, dragging himself toward the hut. "…Fine, fine. I'll live. But only because you're watching."
The words slipped out before he could stop them. He blinked, then smirked faintly, cheeks warming.
Guess… I'm not alone anymore.