The cold morning air hit Adam like a slap.
Except… morning in Nightfall wasn't truly morning.
There was no sunrise, no brightening sky.
Just a slightly thinner shade of darkness for people to relight torches and call it a new day.
The courtyard was filled with that dim, torch-orange glow, the kind that barely pushed back the darkness.
Frost clung to every stone and rail.
The only real difference between night and morning was the sound of activity.
And today, it was louder than Adam expected.
There were children in the Veynar training grounds.
Not just one or two, almost a dozen.
Some sparred clumsily.
Some stretched their arms.
Some whispered nervously while holding wooden blades.
Parents stood at the edges of the courtyard, wrapped in heavy cloaks, giving last-minute instructions and watching with nervous pride.
Adam blinked.
Before confusion could sink deeper, a voice cut through the frost:
"You came earlier than I expected."
Sir Alaric stepped out of the shadows near the weapon rack, bare-armed and steaming against the cold. The jagged scar across his chest looked almost silver in the torchlight.
His missing ear made the left side of his head look brutally uneven, yet his posture was straight, unbothered, and powerful.
Adam approached, eyes still darting toward the unfamiliar children.
"Sir…" he said quietly, "why are there so many people here?"
Alaric followed his gaze, expression flat.
"You expected to train alone."
Adam nodded slowly. "…Yes. That's how heirs are trained."
"That's how Garron trained you," Alaric corrected. "Not how the Veynars always did it."
Adam looked up sharply. "…What do you mean?"
Alaric stepped closer, lowering his voice so only Adam heard.
"These children belong to supporting houses," he said. "And to families who aspire to become one."
Adam frowned. Supporting houses existed in his time too, but the training system never involved them this early.
Alaric noticed the tension in Adam's face.
He continued.
"Nightfall isn't held up by the Lord alone," he said. "The Veynars lead, yes, but four supporting houses carry the weight beneath. Logistics. Internal order. Trade control. Defense rotations."
Adam listened closely.
"In past generations, the heir of House Veynar and the heirs of supporting houses trained together," Alaric said.
"They grew up understanding each other. Trusting each other. Fighting beside each other."
Adam blinked.
That never happened in my timeline.
"Garron ended that system. Said it was outdated. Said heirs learned best in isolation."
Adam's chest tightened; that version sounded painfully familiar.
Alaric continued, voice low but certain:
"He was wrong."
Adam looked at him.
"A future lord should know the future pillars of his rule," Alaric said.
"He should understand them. Rely on them. And they… should learn to trust the Lord before politics poisons their hearts."
Adam inhaled slowly.
That made sense.
Too much sense.
Maybe that's why, in his past life, Nightfall fractured so easily.
Maybe isolation was one of the roots of the fall.
Alaric placed a wooden sword in Adam's hand.
"From now on, you train with them," he said. "You will learn who they are. And they will learn who you are."
Adam stared at the blade, then at the trainees.
Some had noticed him now.
A boy nudged his friend.
A girl stiffened and lowered her gaze.
An older trainee straightened his back, subtly adjusting his posture.
Then one father ran towards his daughter and whispered urgently to her, "Greet the heir properly, child."
She bowed hurriedly, cheeks red, unsure but trying her best.
And as she bowed, two other children followed.
Then a third.
Then a small wave of respectful dips of the head.
Parents brightened with pride.
One whispered excitedly, "Look! He noticed your stance. Keep going, keep going."
Adam exhaled slowly.
The kneeling children held their bows a second too long, trembling with effort, their parents watching eagerly from behind.
He lifted a hand lightly.
"Raise your heads."
The kids obeyed immediately, all relieved.
Alaric watched quietly for a moment, then stepped beside Adam.
"Come," he said. "Before you train with them, you need to understand what makes House Veynar… House Veynar."
Adam turned to him.
Alaric tapped a finger against the wooden sword Adam held.
"Your bloodline specializes in three foundational skills," he said. "Pressure control. Rhythm suppression. And Sense of Steel."
Adam's chest tightened faintly at the last one.
Alaric pointed toward the trainees.
"Those three things are why your ancestors survived the dark. Why Veynars lead, and others follow."
Adam opened his mouth to respond, but before he could —
A boy about his age approached hesitantly.
He had short, snow-dusted brown hair and a stiff, formal posture he clearly practiced in front of a mirror.
"Good morning, Heir Veynar," the boy said. "I am Rowan of House Hartfall. My father oversees the eastern trade routes."
Adam blinked once.
Before Adam could reply, another kid hurried forward.
This one was taller and older, with sleeves too short for his growing arms.
"Er… I'm Lirian of House Blackeaves! My mother handles the Nightfall host."
He bowed so fast he nearly hit Rowan.
A third child followed, a girl around Adam's age with braided hair and pale blue eyes.
She bowed with a grace the others lacked.
"I'm Serise of House Emberlane. Our family manages weapon stockpiles and supply lines."
Adam nodded slowly, still processing.
House Hartfall.
House Blackeaves.
House Emberlane.
Three of the four supporting houses.
Right in front of him.
Introducing themselves like it was the most normal thing in the world.
In his first life?
He didn't meet these people until YEARS later, and not like this.
Not friendly.
Not excited to stand near him.
Alaric folded his arms, watching the introductions with faint amusement.
Rowan noticed Adam's confusion and stepped forward slightly.
"It's an honor to train with you," Rowan said earnestly. "My father says you'll be the strongest Veynar yet."
Lirian chimed in eagerly, "My mother says you wrestled a direhound barehanded when you were six!"
Serise added softly, "People say you don't sleep because you're busy training through the night…"
Adam froze.
'What?'
Alaric snorted, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Rumors travel faster than sense," he said dryly. "Most of Nightfall seems convinced you wrestle monsters for fun."
Adam stared blankly at the three kids.
'Direhound?
Training through the night?
Strongest Veynar yet?'
He was SO confused.
The kids, however, looked starstruck, waiting, hoping for acknowledgement.
Adam cleared his throat.
"I… see."
Alaric watched the whole thing with an almost proud expression.
"This," he said quietly to Adam, "is why heirs trained together once. Because bonds built early endure longest."
Adam had no words for that.
In his last life, he had zero bonds.
Just monsters, corpses, and betrayal.
He looked at the three kids, nervous, hopeful, and trying so hard to impress him.
Alaric clapped once, the sound sharp enough to cut the air.
"Enough introductions. Positions!"
The trainees scrambled into their lines.
Alaric looked at Adam.
"Watch closely. Today, I explain the first layer of Sense of Steel."