Chapter 3: A Father’s Expectations

The grand halls of the Everhart estate echoed with Leon's measured footsteps as he followed Benedict toward his father's study. The towering wooden doors loomed ahead, etched with intricate carvings of the Everhart crest—an eagle soaring above a mountain, symbolizing strength and unyielding resolve. Leon could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

"Duke Alistair Everhart... my father. A man revered across the kingdom."

He barely recalled the man from his fragmented memories—just a figure draped in military regalia, distant and commanding. The idea of facing him now, with his new consciousness, felt daunting.

Benedict paused before the doors, his sharp eyes softening ever so slightly. "Your father has been eagerly awaiting this meeting, young master. Speak honestly, and he will see the strength within you."

Leon nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "Thank you, Benedict."

With a deep bow, the steward pushed open the heavy doors.

Inside, the study was vast, lined with towering shelves filled with leather-bound tomes of military strategy, political theory, and magical studies. A large map of the kingdom of Eryndor stretched across one wall, marked with various locations of significance.

At the center of the room stood Duke Alistair Everhart.

Tall and imposing, the duke was clad in a regal navy-blue coat trimmed with gold, his steel-gray hair neatly combed back. His piercing blue eyes locked onto Leon the moment he entered, their intensity unwavering. Despite his stern expression, there was an air of pride and authority about him that filled the room.

Leon approached cautiously, bowing as etiquette dictated. "Father."

Alistair studied him for a long moment, his gaze assessing every inch of his son. Then, with a nod of approval, he gestured toward a chair across from him. "Sit."

Leon obeyed, his back straight, keeping his composure in check.

"You've been resting for some time," Alistair began, his deep voice resonating through the room. "How do you feel?"

"I'm much better now, Father," Leon replied, meeting his gaze with determination.

The duke leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. "Good. Strength is a quality you must cultivate if you are to bear the Everhart name."

Leon remained silent, sensing his father had more to say.

"You are my son," Alistair continued, his voice steady but firm. "That alone means the expectations upon you are greater than most. Our family has stood as one of the pillars of this kingdom for generations, and I will not have our legacy falter."

Leon nodded. "I understand, Father. I will do my best to meet those expectations."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Alistair's lips, gone in an instant. "Words are cheap, Leon. Action will prove your worth."

The duke rose from his chair and walked to a nearby table, where an ornate wooden box rested. He opened it, revealing a finely crafted short sword with a gleaming silver blade and a leather-wrapped hilt embossed with the Everhart crest.

He extended it toward Leon. "Take it."

Leon stood, hesitating only for a second before grasping the sword. It was lighter than he expected but perfectly balanced in his hand. A strange sense of familiarity washed over him as if the weapon had always belonged to him.

"This was mine when I was your age," Alistair said, watching him closely. "You will carry it as a reminder of your duty. Train well, and one day, you may wield a blade worthy of an Everhart."

Leon tightened his grip, nodding solemnly. "I won't disappoint you, Father."

Alistair studied him in silence for a moment before speaking again. "Your lessons will begin tomorrow. Swordsmanship, strategy, and magic—all essential for your growth. You will be taught by the best, and I expect you to absorb everything. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father," Leon replied without hesitation.

Alistair's stern expression softened slightly. "Good. Then go and prepare yourself. I will be watching closely."

Leon bowed again before turning to leave, the weight of the sword heavy in his hands. As the doors closed behind him, he let out a quiet breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Benedict, who had been waiting outside, smiled knowingly. "That went well, young master."

Leon exhaled, staring down at the blade. "I suppose it did."

Benedict gestured down the hall. "Shall I escort you to the training grounds? Lady Rachel will be most eager to see your progress."

Leon chuckled softly, already imagining his sister's over-enthusiastic cheering. "Let's go."

As they walked through the estate, Leon couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement stir within him. This was just the beginning. His father's expectations were heavy, but they weren't impossible to meet.

He had a chance—an opportunity to carve his path in this world.