Not good at either scholarly pursuits or martial skills(Part One)

The Earl's Mansion Hall

At this moment, the newly returned imperial hero and his three-year-old son were locked in a silent stare. The Earl's eyes were filled with disappointment, melancholy, and a hint of an indescribable complexity. If it weren't for the fact that his wife had been six months pregnant before he left on his expedition, he might have doubted whether this child was truly his.

The men of the Russell family were known for their tall, strong physiques, much like the Earl himself. But this little one, though only three years old, was as fragile as a bird and pale as a delicate snowflake, completely unlike a Russell.

Moreover, he had heard that just a month ago, the boy had fallen seriously ill merely from getting caught in the rain. His frailty was deeply troubling to the Earl, who sighed heavily in his heart.

The future heir, Freyr Russell, returned his father's gaze with a calmness unusual for a child. There was no fear, no crying, no impatience—only a terrifying stillness, as if he were also evaluating whether this man met his expectations as a father. This unsettling feeling made the Earl deeply uncomfortable.

Despite his wife's delicate and beautiful features, there was not a trace of the innocence expected in a child.

The Earl wondered silently, "Why are this child's eyes so complex?"

Freyr, too, was far from calm. While the Countess's gentle care had awakened a long-forgotten sense of maternal love within him, this sudden "father"... he found hard to accept.

Breaking the eerie silence, the Earl asked, "He really still can't speak?" His brows furrowed as he turned to his beautiful wife, whose blue eyes glistened with tears. His heart softened at the sight. Not having been there for her in her time of need, and seeing their son in such a state, he couldn't bring himself to blame this poor woman.

His tone softened, "Dear, if the child can't speak, we can hire the best tutors. He will speak eventually. But he's too frail. The Russell family is built on military prowess, and our son must become a general in the future. He can't be this weak. He's three years old; it's time to find him a tutor. How about Fletcher? He's loyal and highly skilled. He can start teaching Freyr basic exercises next month."

The Countess's eyes brimmed with tears again at the thought of her young son undergoing training. "My poor child, he's still so small..."

"It's precisely because he's small that he needs to start training early! How else can he inherit the Russell family's military legacy?" The Earl's tone was resolute. The decision was made.

The next day, the Earl went to the palace to receive the emperor's commendation, personally receiving his third First Class Imperial Valor Medal and being promoted to Deputy Commander of the Imperial General Staff, second only to the Chief Military Officer.

After a brief conversation with the emperor, the Earl resigned from his post as First Admiral, transferred his military command, and declined all congratulations and invitations to various banquets. He even turned down the High Priestess of the Goddess of Light, all in a hurry to return home.

By the third day, rumors of the Russell heir's idiocy were rampant in the capital. The Earl's melancholy expression during the ceremony had drawn much sympathy from his close colleagues, while his political rivals were gloating.

Back home, the Earl once again faced his son. This time, without the Countess by his side, only his loyal guard of nearly twenty years, Fletcher, one of the capital's renowned swordsmen known for his "Blazing Current Sword Style," was present.

Truthfully, the Earl found it hard to like his son. The child's eyes seemed to harbor some resistance rather than simple dullness. But then he thought, what could a three-year-old understand? He had been away, never holding him before; it was natural for the boy to feel unfamiliar.

Fletcher knelt before Freyr's bed and carefully picked him up, undressing him to examine him closely. Freyr struggled a bit, clearly disliking being handled this way, but Fletcher's strength was undeniable.

After the examination, Fletcher set Freyr down with a heavy expression and bowed to the Earl. "My lord, I..."

"Fletcher, you are my most trusted man. Speak freely," the Earl sighed.

"Master Freyr is indeed weak, and... it seems he has some congenital issues. His bones are fragile, his heartbeat irregular. With such a physique, he is even weaker than an average person. If he is to learn martial arts, I fear... he will struggle to achieve much." Fletcher bit his lip before finishing his assessment.

"What do you suggest we do?" The Earl's face darkened.

Fletcher's silence spoke volumes—"What can I do about it?"