The open training grounds carried a completely different atmosphere from the peaceful gardens and playful parks spread throughout the Noble Preparatory Hall, as the air here felt heavier, filled with the rough breathing of exhausted children and the faint scent of dirt and sweat lingering beneath the afternoon sun.
Wooden practice swords, spears, and shields lay scattered across the field, while groups of children around five or six years old rested where they had fallen, some lying flat on the ground while others sat clutching bruised arms or scraped knees with proud yet exhausted expressions.
Damon stood near the edge of the field with Cecelia still resting quietly in his arms, both of them observing the scene from the side as voices rose and fell throughout the grounds.
"My arm hurts…"
"You hit too hard!"
"Hmph… y-you cried first!"
"I did not cry!"
