Reinhard slowly opened his eyes. A faint golden glow of the morning sun seeped through the massive curtains, filling the room with a soft, warm light. The air was fresh, carrying the delicate fragrance of flowers from the gardens surrounding the palace.
He took a deep breath, stretching in bed. His eyelids were still heavy from sleep, but his body felt well-rested. Yawning lazily, he shifted his gaze toward the window.
Beyond the glass, a magnificent view of the palace gardens unfolded. Wide alleys paved with pristine white marble, intricately trimmed hedges, and ancient oaks whose roots delved deep into the centuries—the entire scene resembled a breathtaking painting. Fountains murmured softly, reflecting the sunlight in their shimmering waters.
But what caught his attention most was the bustling activity of the servants—the morning rush was in full swing. Some carried baskets filled with fresh fruits, others balanced gleaming silver trays, while a few unrolled scrolls with orders, issuing commands. Everything moved in its usual rhythm, and there was something oddly soothing about this orchestrated chaos.
However, something else drew his ears. The sharp clash of metal, the dull thud of swords meeting their targets. He squinted, shifting his gaze further.
At the far end of the palace grounds stood a massive stone building. Even from this distance, he could see knights training near it. Their movements were precise, their strikes strong and deliberate.
He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall.
There were six hours until the family dinner. Smirking, he stretched lazily and murmured:
— Plenty of time... So why not warm up a little?
Casting one last glance out the window, he stepped forward.
And jumped.
The wind lashed against his face, cold and sharp. The free fall lasted only a moment, but in that instant, Reinhard felt alive, brimming with energy. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he burst into motion, like an arrow loosed from a bow.
The servants in the garden screamed in shock.
— T-The young master just jumped from the third floor?!
— Has he lost his mind?!
— How did he not break his legs?!
But their cries faded into the distance—Reinhard was already sprinting forward.
Bushes and trees blurred past him. He weaved between statues, fountains, and flower beds, leaping over low fences with effortless grace, like a shadow gliding over the earth. The speed at which he moved was astonishing—even seasoned warriors couldn't match such agility without the aid of magic.
— He runs faster than the wind... one of the servants murmured in awe, watching him disappear.
But Reinhard paid no heed.
Ahead, the silhouette of the barracks loomed closer.
The barracks were a massive, grim structure built from dark stone, reinforced with thick wooden beams. It looked stark, severe, and impenetrable—just as one would expect from a place where House Deira's finest warriors trained.
As he stepped inside, he was met with a scene of intense training.
Knights honed their strikes against wooden and metal dummies, some sparred against each other, while others rested, observing their comrades. The spacious training grounds rang with the dull clang of swords clashing and the sharp commands of instructors.
The air was thick with the scent of sweat, steel, and dust.
As Reinhard crossed the threshold, a hush gradually settled over the hall. One by one, the warriors began noticing his presence.
Their faces showed surprise, mixed with amusement.
— Did the young master come to watch how real knights train? one of them sneered—a massive man with short, graying hair.
— What is the heir doing here? another muttered, crossing his arms.
— Why has this mage wandered in?
— What's the little lord doing here? someone chuckled, laughing loudly.
Laughter rippled through the room.
The knights held little respect for him—they saw him as nothing more than a mage, unused to the harsh rigors of combat. In their eyes, he was weak, noble blood or not.
But Reinhard paid no attention to their words.
He stepped forward slowly, his boots echoing against the stone floor. Then, without a word, he unsheathed his sword.
Steel gleamed under the torchlight, reflecting fiery glimmers.
The hall fell silent.
And then he smirked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke in a firm yet calm voice:
— Let's test the skills of my knights.