Chapter 13 — Training the Prince

The Silver Wyverns’ courtyard was alive with the clash of steel and shouts of exertion. Kaelen stood apart, watching Aric move with precise attention. Today was not just practice—it was a test. A test of skill, patience, and the very philosophy Kaelen had instilled in him.

“Focus, Aric,” Kaelen called, stepping forward. His voice was calm, almost unnervingly so, but every word carried weight. “Do not simply strike—observe. Anticipate. Adapt. Your opponent is not just the person before you, but every possibility they can create.”

Aric wiped sweat from his brow and nodded. “Yes, Master Kaelen. I understand.”

Kaelen unsheathed the Morphblade, its form shimmering faintly in the sunlight. Though it appeared as a sword now, its ability to transform was hidden from Aric, a secret Kaelen used to test understanding rather than raw power.

“Today,” Kaelen said, “I will test your limits. You will face me—not to defeat me, but to understand yourself. Every flaw you have, every hesitation, every impulse will be exposed.”

The prince squared his shoulders, gripping his blade. “I’m ready.”

Kaelen struck first—a series of rapid, precise movements designed to test observation rather than strength. Aric blocked and parried, but a slight delay in reaction allowed Kaelen to tap his shoulder with the tip of the Morphblade.

“You reacted too late,” Kaelen said simply. “Why?”

Aric clenched his jaw. “I… I was trying to predict, but I misread your intent.”

Kaelen nodded, a subtle approval in his eyes. “Good. Recognition of error is the first step toward mastery. Now, reset. Focus on observation, not prediction.”

Hours passed like this—strike and parry, analyze and adjust. Kaelen pushed Aric beyond his limits, forcing him to see patterns in motion, to anticipate without guessing, to control both body and mind.

At one point, Kaelen allowed Aric to attempt a technique he had learned earlier—the Rising Dragon Slash. As Aric moved, Kaelen flowed with him, blocking subtly, mirroring and testing each motion. When Aric completed it, Kaelen gave a faint nod.

“Better,” Kaelen said. “You are beginning to understand—not just the technique, but the thought behind it. That is progress.”

By sunset, Aric’s arms ached, sweat soaked his clothes, but his eyes burned with determination. He had struggled, faltered, and yet he had improved—more in one day than he had in months on his own.

Kaelen stepped back, sheathing the Morphblade. “Training is not about victories over others. It is about victories over yourself. Today, you have taken your first real steps toward becoming a true swordsman.”

Aric exhaled, a mixture of relief and pride washing over him. “Thank you, Master Kaelen. I will not forget this lesson.”

Kaelen’s golden eyes lingered on the horizon. Beyond the kingdom, dangers stirred—monsters, demons, and forces yet unknown. But within the courtyard, the young prince had taken the first step toward meeting them with skill, discipline, and unwavering determination.

“Rest,” Kaelen said finally. “Tomorrow, we begin again. The path is long, but the journey is yours to shape.”

Aric bowed deeply. “I will follow, Master Kaelen. Wherever it leads.”

Kaelen allowed himself a faint smile beneath the hood. The Mirrorblade had chosen a worthy student—and together, they would face challenges that neither could yet imagine.