"One fucking year of this shit," Grim thought as he finished his fiftieth squat of the morning, sweat dripping down his five-year-old face. "At least I can wipe my own ass now."
Every morning for the past year had been the same brutal routine: 5-kilometer run at dawn, followed by 50 push-ups, 50 sit-ups, and 50 squats. All before breakfast. All supervised by his increasingly demanding father.
"Good form," Rowan commented, watching Grim with an appraising eye. "Your endurance has improved significantly."
"Thanks," Grim managed between heavy breaths. In reality, he wanted to collapse on the training yard's dirt floor.
His body had grown stronger, there was no denying that. At five, he was taller and more muscular than other noble children his age, who spent their days with tutors rather than training like soldiers.
"One more lap around the garden to cool down, then you can clean up for breakfast," Rowan instructed.
Grim nodded and began his cool-down lap. As he jogged, he reflected on the past four years at the Imperial Palace. His father had risen further in the Empress's favor, now serving as one of her trusted military advisors. Meanwhile, Grim had been building his foundation—both physically and magically.
[Your mana heart is now at 80% capacity,] the voice in his head noted. [An impressive achievement for your age.]
"Still just one heart though," Grim thought back with frustration. "Most adequate of the noble kids my age already have two."
[Quality over quantity. Your single heart contains more concentrated mana than their two underdeveloped ones combined.]
Grim wasn't entirely convinced, but he couldn't deny the results. His water manipulation had grown precise enough that he could form shapes and simple constructs, and his light affinity, while harder to control, produced bursts of illumination that could temporarily blind opponents in training. Though his light affinity was only shown to his father, the Chancellor, and the Empress.
As he finished his lap, Sera was waiting with a towel. Despite the luxury of the palace and the numerous servants available to them, the old woman had insisted on continuing to care for Grim personally.
"The tutors sent word that your history lesson is postponed," she informed him as he toweled off. "Apparently Master Feng has taken ill."
"Thank whatever god is in this world for this blessing," Grim muttered. The history lessons were boring for someone who was older mentally.
"Instead, you're to join Princess Liora for her dance lessons," Sera continued.
Grim groaned. "Are you serious? I'd rather do another fifty squats."
"The Empress herself requested it. Apparently, the princess refuses to practice without a partner, and she specifically asked for you."
"Of course she did." Princess Liora, the Empress's eight-year-old daughter, had become infatuated with Grim shortly after she met him. What had started as childhood curiosity had changed into an obsession with Grim.
"Fine," Grim sighed. "Let me wash up first."
After a quick bath, Grim made his way to the eastern pavilion where dance lessons were held. The palace was a maze with how big it was.
"GRIIIIIM!"
The excited cry was his only warning before he saw a blur of pink crash into him.
"You came!" Princess Liora looked up at him, her golden hair styled with ribbons and pearls. "Mother said you might be too busy, but I knew you'd come dance with me!"
"Your Imperial Highness," Grim bowed formally. "I was informed my history lesson was canceled."
"I know! I asked Mother to arrange it," she agreed with me. "It's been ages since we spent time together."
It had been three days.
"Princess..." Grim began.
"Liora," she corrected, pouting slightly. "I've told you to call me Liora when we're not in formal settings."
Before Grim could respond, a familiar voice called from behind him.
"Well, if it isn't the water boy, playing dress-up with the princess again."
Grim turned to see Lianna approaching, her red dress matching the fire affinity she wielded with increasing skill. At nine years old, Chancellor Levenhart's daughter had grown taller and more confident, but no less irritating.
"Lianna!" The princess greeted her cheerfully. "Are you joining our dance lesson too?"
"Father insisted," Lianna replied, making it clear this wasn't her choice. "Something about 'proper social graces' being as important as magical aptitude."
"Why are you always sneaking up on people?" Grim asked suspiciously.
A mischievous smile spread across Lianna's face. In a split second, she snapped her fingers, sending a small burst of flame on Grim's back.
"SHIT!" Grim yelped as he felt his tunic catch fire. He rolled instinctively, smothering the flames before they could spread. "What is wrong with you?!"
"Lianna!" the princess gasped, half-shocked, half-impressed.
"You crazy pyromaniac bitch!" Grim shouted, inspecting the damage to his clothing.
Lianna burst into laughter. "You say the funniest words, Grim," she managed between fits of giggles. "I understand crazy and pyromaniac, but what's a 'bitch'? Is that from another language?"
"It's a female dog," Grim muttered, deciding not to explain further.
"You shouldn't set people on fire, Lianna," the princess admonished, though without much conviction. She'd grown used to the strange dynamic between her two friends.
"He can handle it," Lianna shrugged. "Besides, his water magic makes him practically fireproof."
"That's not how it works!" Grim protested.
The dance instructor appeared then, saving Grim from further argument. The lesson proceeded with minimal incidents, though Lianna "accidentally" stepped on his toes no fewer than six times.
After the torture of dance instruction ended, Grim was supposed to meet his father for their afternoon sword training. Not of his choosing, both girls decided to accompany him.
"Don't you two have training elsewhere to do?" he asked as they walked through the palace gardens.
"Watching you train is much more interesting than embroidery," the princess replied.
"And I might pick up some techniques to use against you," Lianna added with a predatory smile.
Wonderful. An audience.
They found Rowan in the private training yard reserved for the Ambrose family's use. It was smaller than the main yard but offered privacy for practicing their family's secret techniques.
"Father," Grim greeted with a formal bow.
Rowan nodded in acknowledgment, then noticed the two girls. "Your Highness, Lady Levenhart," he bowed respectfully. "I wasn't expecting spectators today."
"We promise not to interfere, Lord Ambrose," the princess said sweetly.
"Yeah, we'll be quiet as mice," Lianna added, her giggle suggested otherwise.
Rowan sighed but didn't object. One did not refuse the imperial princess, especially not in her own palace.
"Very well. There's a bench over there where you can observe." He turned to Grim. "Today we'll continue with the foundation stances."
Grim bit back a groan. More basics. Always basics.
As if reading his mind, Rowan added, "Foundation is the key to mastering the sword, Grim. Without a solid foundation, adding magic or advanced techniques would be like building a house on sand."
"Yes, Father," Grim replied dutifully.
"The Ambrose sword style requires precision, control, and discipline," Rowan continued, drawing his practice sword. "Each movement must flow into the next."
For the next hour, Grim practiced the same six stances he'd been drilling for the past year. Since he started, he has increased his speed and accuracy of the stances. His arms ached and sweat soaked through his tunic.
The voice in his head had not said anything during his training.
From the sidelines, the princess watched with admiration while Lianna alternated between genuine interest and theatrical yawns.
"When do you learn to actually fight someone?" Lianna finally called out. "All this posing seems boring."
"Combat application comes later," Rowan replied patiently. "After the foundation is solid."
"My father says I can start dueling next month," Lianna boasted.
"Chancellor Levenhart has his own training methods," Rowan acknowledged diplomatically. "House Ambrose has ours."
Grim completed the sequence again, his movements sharper than before. Despite his frustration with the repetitive training, he could feel the difference it made. Each stance flowed into the next more naturally than it had even a month ago.
"Good," Rowan nodded. "Now, channel a small amount of mana—just enough to feel it, not enough to manifest."
This was the newest addition to their training. Grim closed his eyes briefly, directing a trickle of mana from his heart into his arms. The energy hummed just beneath his skin, not visible but present.
"Again, with mana awareness," Rowan instructed.
Grim repeated the sequence, this time conscious of how the mana moved with his body, gathering in his center during stable stances and flowing outward during strikes.
"Better," Rowan commented when he finished. "You're starting to understand the principle."
"When will I learn to combine magic with swordplay?" Grim asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
Rowan considered him for a moment. "Soon, perhaps. You've progressed faster than I expected."
That was high praise from his father, who was normally sparing with compliments.
"In fact," Rowan continued, "I believe you're ready to begin learning one of the advanced styles."
Even the girls perked up at this announcement.
"Sunblade?" Grim asked hopefully. The original Ambrose style was said to be the most straightforward of the four.
Rowan shook his head. "No. I'm going to start teaching you the basics of a style my father created—a style designed specifically for those in our family who didn't manifest light affinity."
"But I do have light affinity," Grim pointed out, confused.
"Shhhh.... those girls dont need to know that. If everyone knew you have light affinity it would create a bigger target on our back. Yes, but this style will teach you principles that apply to all the others. It's called..."
Rowan paused, a distant look in his eyes as if recalling something from long ago.
"It's called..."