[Bonus Release]To Hold A Sword.

Lucian's footsteps echo against the walls of the staircase. Arriving on the 4th floor, he begins walking down the hallway. Reaching the door to his quarters, he turns left.

"Knock. Knock." The door to the Marquis's quarters resounds.

"Enter." Harald's voice calmly replies.

Entering the room, Lucian is shocked to see the contrast between his own quarters and that of the Lord of the castle. The Marquis room is simplistic. One dresser, one mirror, a desk, and a bed. There is no rug, no ornate tapestries, nothing to signify his nobility. The only thing signifying his noble blood is the enchanted armor he wears and the heirloom sword propped against his desk.

'I wonder why he decorated the rest of the rooms so luxuriously? Did he do it out of kindness for others?'

"Lucian, hand me the seal on my dresser. I need to stamp this letter." Harald requests.

"Yes, master."

Lucian walks over to the dresser holding the Adalwolfen seal in his hands.

'This kind of thing is usually locked away. Anyone who holds this seal can speak as if they are the Lord of this domain. Does he really just leave it around?'

He places the seal on the Marquis desk.

"Thank you." Harald responds kindly.

Harald takes the red candle burning in the corner of his desk and pours some of the wax onto an envelope. He then takes the seal and promptly stamps it down on the wax, forming it into a wolf's head.

"Done." He exclaims.

He rises from his seat and looks over Lucian in his new outfit.

"It fits you well. I had it specially made before you arrived. It is made with a bonding material that will stretch to fit your body. It should last you several years or a few battles." Harald states, giving a wink towards the end of his sentence.

"Thank you, sir." Lucian replies, giving a bow in respect.

'That explains why this fits me like a glove.'

Marquis Harald's face suddenly turns serious.

"It's time for your first lesson." Harald says in a cold and foreboding tone.

"Follow me. We will be heading down to the training area."

Lucian nods.

Harald begins walking, Lucian just a step behind.

The pair walk through the castle, exiting the main hall and stopping in the courtyard outside the keep. The cold winter air chills the skin on Lucian's chest, passing through his tunic as if he is wearing paper.

"Stand here." Harald motions for Lucian to stand in front of him.

Harald opens his palm, a small black orb appears in his palm, floating a few inches above it.

"It is the 8th of Janus, 894. My Apprentice Lucian is currently 4 years old. Today marks the first day of his training." Harald speaks to the orb.

(Author's Note: Lucian was born on the 1st of Janus [January], 890.)

Lucian peers at the orb curiously.

'Is that some kind of recording device?? I've never seen anything like it. I thought this world was still in the dark ages, but this is way beyond that.'

The black orb begins seems to hum as Harald finishes addressing it. It then starts to hover high above the courtyard.

Harald watches Lucian's curious eyes follow the orb high into the sky.

"It's called a "Mage Sphere." It's a mage's best friend. It has many tools hidden within it. They are ancient tools of the Andril. The race where Magic was created." Harald explains.

"Andril?" Lucian questions, still looking up at the sphere.

"I do not know much about them besides the fact that they are the creators of Magic and many of the tools we use today. They were once the only race to inhabit this world. Until the gods created others. The academy will be able to teach you more when you're old enough." Harald replies.

Harald snaps his fingers, drawing Lucian's attention.

"Your lesson is here. Not up there." Harald commands.

"Today, I will be assessing what your capabilities are with swordsmanship."

Harald's eyes shine silver.

Two wooden training dummies appear in the snow, ten feet away. While a longsword drops in the snow by Lucian's feet.

"Pick it up and follow me." Harald commands.

Lucian grabs the sword at his feet and follows Harald towards the dummies. Harald stands next to the dummy on the left, Lucian on the right.

"I want you to strike with all of the strength you can muster." Harald commands.

Lucian pauses for a moment. Adjusting his grip on the sword and preparing to show his worth.

He slashes horizontally as if swinging a baseball bat. Hitting the dummy in the middle of its torso.

"Clack!"

The blade bounces off of the dummy. The dummy barely moves, as a small scratch now resides where Lucian struck.

Lucian's blade vibrates with the strike, making his hands go numb. He almost drops the sword from the vibrations.

"Again."

"Clack!"

Lucian's grip is barely holding. The dummy stands strong, scarcely a mark on it.

"Again."

"Clang!"

The longsword leaves Lucian's hands, flying a few feet away into the snow.

Harald shakes his head at the sight.

"Retrieve your blade! That may as well be your own life!" Harald shouts.

Lucian runs to retrieve his sword.

'Why is this so hard! I killed three men by myself a year ago!'

The memory of their fight plays out in his mind. Remembering the feeling of the lightning crackling against his skin.

'Wait. I enhanced my body with Magic during that entire fight. Does this mean that without Magic, I would've died on the spot? I bet that skinny thug could've killed me on his own. I can barely put a scratch on this fucking dummy. I'm still too weak. I need to get stronger.

Lucian shakes his head, steeling his resolve. He now stands before the dummies again. Harald is now staring down at him with contempt.

"I will show you this only once. Do not copy my form, but make it your own." Harald coldly states.

Harald draws the sword at his hip. Readying himself to strike.

"Ssst!"

Lucian watches the Marquis strike, almost as if it were in slow motion. The snow at his feet floats as if it is defying gravity. His blade cuts through the snowflakes as if they have paused in time. As its edge connects with the wood, it slices through it as if it were butter. The Marquis's body moves as one, using the strength of almost every muscle in his body. Though it is not forceful, it is like an elegant dance that is so natural it is almost like breathing.

"Clack!" The upper half of the dummy falls to the snow.

Marquis Harald sheathes his blade before turning to Lucian.

"Go over it in your mind however many times it takes. By next week I expect you to create more than a scratch on your target." Harald's voice comes out smooth and sincere. His eyes give a contemptful look as if saying, "Failure is not an option."

"Continue your training. I have taught you all you need to know."

Harald's boots begin to trudge through the snow as he walks back to the hall.

Lucian's mouth hangs open at his sudden departure.

'That's all I get? This is gonna be a long 8 years...'

'He said 1 week. I just need to copy his form for my first strikes, and then I can figure out giving it my own style later.'

Lucian begins to play over the mental image of Harald's strike several times.

He begins to practice the movements.

"Clack!"

"Clack!"

"Clack!"