A Worthless Crown

The next week passed in a similar fashion, a wealthy lifestyle accompanied by heavy training.

"Well done, your progress is showing clearly now." James spoke lightly, he had not even broke a sweat.

I could barely find the energy to be proud of the compliment. My body was a mess of aches and exhaustion, my sword spirit flickering out in frustration, causing the aura around my sword to slowly dissapitate.

Before I could lower my sword, I heard it—a sharp, high-pitched voice that cut through the air like a blade.

"Well, well, well," Fraero Vista drawled, strolling into the training yard with the kind of casual arrogance that made me grind my teeth. "Look at this. How quaint." His gaze flicked over me like I was some amusing side show. "My father told me of a boy my age who had achieved amazing things, and now you appear to be training with this... old man?" He had just walked into my estate like it was nothing, and that was how it worked. The Vista's owned the city.

I turned, feeling my blood heat. Fraero was the last person I wanted around when I was struggling to get better. The spoiled brat that he was, he had no understanding of hard work. No patience. He was one of those nobles who believed everything was beneath him unless it came with a title or a shiny reward. He had been at my old school, always laughing in the lessons with his wealthy friends. Aware that he had a perfect life set up for him.

"Fraero," James said without turning, but there was a hint of something... almost like amusement in his voice. "You came to watch me crush the boy's spirit?"

Fraero smirked as he styled his white hair tamely, clearly thinking himself clever. "Crushing? This is hardly worth the effort. He's pathetic. Look at him, James. This is supposed to be a swordsman in training? I could put up a better fight." His smugness was unbelievable. "Which makes sense of course, I am a master of magic. Akin to a thousand swords."

I clenched my jaw, my hands tightening on the sword's hilt. His words stung. But they weren't true. I was getting better, I knew that. Seeing his pale skin, unmarked by dirt and cuts like my own, it wasn't hard to tell he had never struggled a day in his life.

"He's better than he was, yesterday and that's what you call real success." James said, turning to Fraero for the first time. "You wouldn't know, of course. You'd rather host your parties and prance about with your gilded friends. Your father rants about you for hours."

Fraero ignored the jab, his eyes gleaming with something between amusement and disdain. "Oh, I'm sure he's improved," Fraero said, eyeing me with mock sympathy. "But the truth is, swordsmanship is simple. He doesn't need an old man like you to teach him. He just needs a bit of finesse, a flick of the wrist, and—" He flicked his wrist theatrically, "—done. It's just such a brutish and pointless art, mentorship in such a thing is a waste of gold."

My hand twitched on the hilt of the sword. I was tired—no, I was exhausted—but Fraero's words boiled under my skin. The idea that he thought this was easy, that he could just wave his hand and solve everything like some spoiled noble, made my blood burn hotter than the sun overhead.

"I think you're underestimating what it takes," I said, though my voice came out rough and strained.

Fraero raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered. "What? You think this old man is the key to your success? You're wasting your time." He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on me. "Though you must be special, for how much Father compares us in his rants."

I took a deep breath, wiping the sweat off my forehead. I whispered lowly "Maybe I'm not the one wasting my time."

Fraero's expression faltered for a split second, but he recovered quickly, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. "Well, good luck, then. I'll leave you to your little games." With a flick of his wrist, Fraero turned and sauntered off, his voice fading into the distance.

James watched him leave before letting out a low chuckle. "He's an idiot," he muttered, glancing back at me. "But you're better off letting him think he knows something. He has a lot of power here.

I didn't respond. I just looked down at my sword, feeling the weight of it and the hum of the spirit within. He could say whatever he wanted. I knew I wasn't going to stop. Not now. Not ever.

Some part of me understood Fraero, his annoying attitude,perhaps it sprouted from something else.

I stood there for a moment, still clutching the sword. The hum of my spirit was dull now, worn out like my body. Fraero's words lingered in the air, sharp and biting, though I knew they were just empty noise. Still, they had a way of getting under my skin, burrowing into my thoughts.

I wiped my face again, feeling the grit of sweat and dirt. My muscles were tight, sore from hours of training, but there was no part of me that wanted to quit. Not now, not after everything I'd been through.

"Don't let that brat get to you," James muttered, his voice low but firm. He was right, of course. Fraero was a noble, born with silver spoons and servants to clean up his messes. He didn't know what it was like to struggle for every inch of progress. He had no idea what it took to truly fight—to dig deep into the marrow of your bones and push through until you had nothing left.

"I know," I said, my voice rough, almost hoarse. "But it still... it pisses me off."

"Good," James grunted. "Use it. Every time someone like that opens their mouth, let it fuel you. Use their arrogance, their ignorance, to remind you of why you're here."

I nodded, tightening my grip on the hilt of the sword. James was right. Fraero could think whatever he wanted, but I wasn't here for his approval. I was here for my own. I was here to prove that I could be more than just a miner's son, that I could be a true swordsman, someone who commanded respect.

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders, the weight of the sword suddenly feeling less burdensome.

"Ready for another round?" James asked, raising his sword slightly, his eyes glinting with the familiar challenge.

I didn't hesitate. "Let's do it."