A Worthless Crown

We went at it again, the sound of our swords clashing filling the yard like a storm. My movements were more fluid this time, sharper, as the sword spirit inside me thrummed with life. The connection was growing stronger, and I felt it more clearly with each strike. It was still a long way to go before I could match James, but the gap was closing, little by little.

I lunged forward, testing his defense, and for the first time in a while, I saw the tiniest shift in his stance, just a split second of hesitation. It was enough to make my heart race, the smallest victory—one I hadn't expected.

James saw it too. He raised an eyebrow. "Not bad. You're starting to find your rhythm."

I didn't let myself feel too proud. I knew better than to celebrate too soon. Every inch I gained, every step forward, was hard-earned. There was no room for complacency in this training. I had to push further, go beyond the limits of what I thought was possible. The sword was an extension of me, but it wasn't just about the blade. It was about my mind, my spirit, my resolve.

The sun was sinking lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the yard, but I barely noticed. Every time I swung the sword, every time James parried or countered, I felt more alive, more in tune with what I was becoming.

At some point, my focus slipped, and I felt a sharp pain shoot through my side as James's sword caught me. I gasped, stepping back, but I didn't drop my sword.

James didn't look satisfied—his face remained as stoic as ever, though I could sense the approval in his eyes.

"You're getting better. But don't let your guard down."

I nodded, ignoring the ache in my side. It was nothing. I could push through it. I had to.

That's when I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching again. Fraero's voice, high-pitched and dripping with condescension, floated over to us before he even stepped into the yard.

"I'm back," Fraero said, his tone far too cheery for the setting. "What's this? Still swinging that ridiculous thing around?"

James didn't even acknowledge him this time, his focus entirely on me. But Fraero wasn't deterred.

"Honestly, Alcors, you're just wasting your time. You'll never be a true swordsman, not with someone like him teaching you." He sniffed dismissively. "It's beneath you."

I felt my blood boil again, but I kept my mouth shut. I wasn't going to rise to his bait. Not now, not when I was so close to getting it right.

Fraero continued, oblivious to the tension he was stirring. "You could be doing so much more with your time. A few lessons in etiquette, maybe—learn how to dance with the nobility. But this..." He waved his hand as if the entire practice was beneath him, "It's pointless. Just a bunch of swinging and grunting."

I could feel the anger bubbling up inside me, but I held it down, forcing myself to focus on the sword in my hand, the hum of my spirit guiding me.

"Leave him be, Fraero," James said flatly, his eyes still on me. "You don't understand what it takes to be good with a blade. This isn't a game. This is life. And he has taken the commitment that a warrior needs in order to achieve greatness."

Fraero's lip curled. "Life? Please. This is just one big waste of time, now if you don't mind I have a party to attend."

"Then leave," James said, a finality in his voice that made it clear there was nothing more to say.

Fraero opened his mouth to argue, but then he seemed to think better of it. He huffed, rolling his eyes, and turned on his heel.

"Whatever," he muttered, walking off. "Have fun with your little games."

I couldn't help it. My lips twitched, the smallest hint of a smile forming. It wasn't much, but it was enough to remind me that I was making progress. Fraero could keep thinking he knew it all, could keep dismissing what I was trying to do here. But I knew better.

I wasn't going to let him—or anyone—distract me from my path.

As James gave me one last look, the corner of his mouth twitched into a ghost of a smile. "Keep going, Alcors," he said, and with that, we dove back into the fight.

This time, I didn't feel tired. I didn't feel like I was failing. Every swing, every clash, felt like it was getting me closer to the man I wanted to become.