Chapter 3 : Books And Swords

I take it back. There was no way I could survive as Azriel.

"Kyaaa!" I shrieked in horror when Morfeo swung his wooden sword toward my way. Luckily, I dodged it and let the tip of the sword stabbed the muddy ground.

I turned my head to him in sheer horror, gaping at him like he's a serial killer.

Morfeo plucked the sword out, grinning wickedly. "What's wrong, Azy? Thought you wanna learn how to wield a sword?"

This little rodent. How dare he bully me just because he's five years older than me? I'm still his Prince!

Never mind, I don't like using my title to determine our ranks. Regrettably, I spent so much time with Morfeo that I unwillingly considered him as my brother.

The thought sent shivers down my spine.

"Take it easy on me, I'm four!" I whined, tightened my grip on my tiny wooden sword.

"Of course," Morfeo's words were different from his sinister look. That grin just stretched wider, and I screamed again when he lunged at me.

I toppled to the side, whining loudly when a small pebble scrapped my knee. This time, the look on his face replaced swiftly to a horrified one. Morfeo dropped his sword and scrambled to my side, grabbing my legs and inspected my bloodied knee.

"Darcio's gonna kill me," Morfeo muttered.

"Not until Tyr and Yeomfra kill you first," I sighed, tired of getting easily hurt for the past four years.

Although, I rather get older and be stronger than stay as a baby. I'm still weak because of the curse. However, I stopped verbally expressing my pain anymore. So that's an improvement!

Darcio was reluctant to allow me to attend sword lessons with my three future knights. The thing was, Tyr and Yeomfra have a soft spot for me. So they didn't do much, allowing me to relax a little bit more.

But I want a challenge!

So I let Morfeo spar with me for the past three weeks. I improved.

Not my sword skills, but I developed bitterness towards Morfeo. Oh how much I want to hit the kid's head with a shovel.

It's hopeless. I've been trying for months, but I never improve. Maybe I could improve in other attributes? But what other attributes that I have other than getting injured so effortlessly?

After Tyr finished bandaging my knees and Yeomfra beat Morfeo for accidentally hurting me, Darcio sternly forbade me from training again. Then he promised me that he'd pick up a few books in the nearest town for me to read.

That's better than getting hurt, I guess.

If I couldn't wield swords like everyone, then I'd be the smartest one.

I'll read as many books as I can!

"Stop pouting," Tyr reprimanded, then sat beside me on the wooden deck. We both watched Morfeo and Yeomfra fight in the mud nonchalantly, since this happened almost daily.

"I can't help it," I mumbled, pouting even harder to irk Tyr more. Tyr clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "I want to be strong. And stop bleeding every five minutes,"

"You know," Tyr started, relaxed his shoulders. "Sir Darcio told me that we'll return to the palace once the magicians find the cure for the curse,"

I know this. I overhead Darcio mentioned it when I was dozing off to sleep years ago. Though, I only hummed to let Tyr know I responded to his words. I know he wanted to comfort me.

What a nice boy.

"Do you think I can do something else?" I asked, breaking our comfortable silence.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, something useful. Magic, maybe?"

I know magic existed in this world, again, because I heard Darcio mentioned it. As weird as it sounded, once again, my brain gave up on thinking about it further and accepted the information with no worries.

Not sure if it was considered a talent. I guess that's the only thing about me that I'm proud of.

"Magic, huh? None of us know how to use magic," Tyr said.

"I can learn it from the books, right?"

"We never teach you how to read,"

"Then teach me,"

Tyr sighed. "Fine,"