Ethos tightened his grip on his wooden sword. The child standing before him—appearing only ten years old—no longer felt like a mere 'weapon in the making.' Instead, he felt like a 'dangerous challenge,' a force that could potentially swallow Ethos's own authority in the future.
A faint, cryptic smile played on Ethos's lips. "Magnificent... truly," he murmured in a low voice. There was a peculiar glint in his eyes, as if he were viewing Len not as a small child, but as a priceless, razor-sharp weapon whose edge could pierce through any shield.
Len looked at the broken sword in his hand and slowly turned around. His gaze met Ethos's for a fleeting second, but he made no effort to peer into the man's soul. "May I leave now?" Len asked.
His voice was flat, devoid of any concern for Ethos's praise. Ethos observed him intently for a few moments, as if trying to read the next strike hidden within the boy. "Normally, I would not have let you leave so soon," he said.
Adjusting his cloak, "but considering the skill you've displayed today... you may go for now." The moment the words left Ethos's mouth, Len dropped the wooden sword to the ground without a heartbeat's delay.
The 'clack' of the wood hitting the stone echoed through the empty yard. Len turned and bolted away with the speed of a lightning flash, as if desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the training grounds as quickly as possible.
Ethos remained standing there, his gaze anchored to the fallen sword on the sand and the retreating silhouette of the boy. He realized then that the fire he had ignited might be beyond his power to control.
The dust in the courtyard was slowly settling. Ethos leaned down and picked up the two broken pieces of the wooden sword. Those lifeless fragments of wood felt like dead remains in his palms.
Without any rush, he returned the pieces exactly where they had been taken from—placing them back among the gleaming weapons that now seemed dull compared to the single strike Len had delivered.
Crossing the boundary of the training grounds, Ethos cast a sharp glance toward the Head Guard. "Prepare the field," his words were brief and commanding. As soon as he departed, the huddled groups of guards became active once more.
The air filled again with the clashing of iron and heavy breathing, as if they were all trying to drown out the silence Len had left behind. Ethos turned away, and the rhythmic thud of his heavy boots began to echo.
Through the palace corridors. Inside the grand hall of the palace, the atmosphere was a stark contrast. The air was infused with the scent of expensive tea and a hint of roses. Astria sat upon her royal throne with absolute poise.
The teacup before her was half-empty, and her eyes were veiled in deep contemplation. As Ethos entered the hall, the sound of his footsteps caught Astria's attention. He halted, placed his right hand over his chest, and inclined his head.
In a respectful bow. It was a gesture that walked the fine line between loyalty and authority. "My Queen," Ethos's voice struck the high ceilings of the hall. "Do I have your permission for a few moments of your time?"
Astria slowly set her cup down. There was a faint curiosity and a touch of mischief in her gaze. "Why not, Ethos? But I am surprised to see the training session end so abruptly. Did the boy give up so soon?"
Ethos maintained his bowing posture, but that 'unknown fear' was still tucked away in his voice. "Len's performance today surpassed any ordinary expectations. Given his agility and precision, I allowed him to leave early. He needs time to internalize that energy."
Astria leaned back against her throne, studying him intently. Her smile deepened slightly, yet her eyes remained cold. "Very well... then what was it you wished to ask me? There is a weight in your voice that only deep concerns carry."
In the midst of the hall's grandeur, Ethos's bow was more than just tradition; it was a calculated piece of his intricate game. "My Queen," he began, his voice dropping into a lower register, "May I take Len entirely under my tutelage?"
"Today, I saw a fire in his eyes that is rarely found. He possesses limitless potential and a capacity that, if molded correctly, would prove him to be the most formidable weapon this empire has ever seen."
The moment the word 'weapon' escaped Ethos's lips, Astria's expression shifted violently. The softness in her eyes vanished, replaced by a glacial gravity. "No," Astria's voice was sharp enough to cut.
She rested her hand on the table, the glint of her ring emphasizing the mounting tension. "He is but a small child, Ethos. He is not some lifeless tool for you to sharpen at your whim."
"I instructed you to teach him only the basics—just enough so he might defend himself in times of peril." Ethos bowed his head even lower, yet his resolve remained unshaken.
"But my Queen... it would be for Len's own future. In this cruel world, power is the only true shield. The sooner he learns this, the better it will be for him." Astria exhaled a long, cold breath.
Her gaze remained anchored to Ethos's hunched shoulders. "You are my uncle, Ethos, and for that reason, I choose to end this discussion here. I have nothing more to say to you on the matter."
She rose from her throne, the silk of her gown rustling against the cold floor. "However, if Len himself consents to this rigorous training with you, then I shall have no objection. If it is his own will, you may proceed."
"But remember... it must be his choice, not yours." Leaving her tea and refreshments unfinished, Astria turned and walked toward the grand staircase. The rhythmic click of her heels echoed against the palace walls.
Until she vanished into the privacy of her chambers. Ethos remained standing there, a smile playing across his face that was impossible to decipher. The silence in the hall deepened after Astria's departure.
Ethos pivoted on his heel, the rhythmic thud of his boots heading toward the grand imperial doors once more. As he stepped back into the open air of the training grounds, the sun's intensity had begun to wane.
He stood upon a high stone platform, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. His stony eyes measured every strike of the soldiers sweating below, yet his mind was still occupied with the hunt for that ten-year-old 'weapon.'
Elsewhere, in a quiet corner of the palace gardens, Len stood perfectly still behind the dense shadow of a massive ancient tree. His breathing was so faint that even the rustle of the leaves masked it.
On the other side of the trunk, two maidservants were strolling slowly, baskets of flowers in their hands. Their hushed conversation drifted through the air, reaching Len's ears. "I won't be coming here tomorrow," the first maid whispered.
Looking toward her friend. There was a strange sense of relief in her voice. "Why is that? What happened?" the second asked, surprised. "My mother's health has taken a turn for the worse; she needs me."
"That's why I've asked for leave." The second maid paused, studying her. "Did the Queen grant you permission so easily? You know how strict she is about the rules." A faint smile touched the first maid's face.
As if she were replaying the moment in her mind. "The Queen seemed quite different today... she looked almost happy. When I stood before her, my forehead was drenched in sweat from fear, and my hands were shaking."
"But when she asked for the reason and I told the truth, she agreed without a single doubt. There was a strange softness in her voice today." "Then why didn't you ask the Butler first?"
"Why go all the way to the Queen?" the second maid interjected. The first maid exhaled a heavy breath and shook her head. "You know he never listens to me. There's no need to remind you how harsh he is."
"He would have refused me outright and chased me away with a scolding." Behind the tree, shrouded in darkness, Len listened to every word like a stone statue. His eyes remained void of emotion.
Yet his mind was weaving these threads of information together. These small shifts within the palace and the bitterness in people's temperaments—to him, these weren't just stories; they were moves on a chessboard.