Chapter 6: The Lion of the West

The sun had barely risen when Leon found himself standing in the vast courtyard of the Everhart estate, a slight chill hanging in the morning air. His grip tightened on the wooden practice sword in his hand as he gazed at the man before him—Sir Reynard, the famed "Lion of the West."

The knight was a towering figure, his grizzled features chiseled from years of battle. His silver hair, streaked with faint traces of black, was tied back neatly, and his piercing amber eyes held the weight of experience. Dressed in a plain yet sturdy training uniform, he radiated an aura of quiet dominance.

Leon swallowed, feeling an odd mix of anticipation and nervousness. He had heard the stories of Reynard's battlefield exploits—leading armies, slaying monstrous beasts, and standing undefeated in duels against Eryndor's finest warriors. And now, he was to be Leon's personal instructor.

Reynard regarded him for a moment before speaking in a low, steady voice. "Your father tells me you wish to become strong."

Leon straightened his posture. "Yes, Sir Reynard."

The knight's eyes narrowed slightly. "Strength is not just about swinging a sword harder than your opponent. It is the mastery of one's mind, body, and will. Are you prepared for what lies ahead?"

Leon nodded without hesitation. "I am."

Reynard stepped forward, drawing a wooden sword from the rack beside him. With an effortless motion, he tossed it toward Leon, who caught it clumsily but held his stance.

"Good," Reynard said. "Then let's see what you're made of."

Before Leon could react, Reynard moved with startling speed. A sharp thrust of his sword struck Leon's weapon, sending it flying out of his hands and clattering onto the cobblestones.

Leon blinked, stunned.

"Pick it up," Reynard ordered, his tone calm yet firm.

Leon scrambled to retrieve his sword, his face burning with embarrassment. Rachel, who had been watching from the sidelines, stifled a laugh, while Benedict offered a polite cough to hide his amusement.

"Lesson one," Reynard said, his amber eyes locked onto Leon's. "Never hesitate. In battle, hesitation means death."

Leon nodded, gripping his sword more firmly. "Understood."

Reynard took a step back. "Again."

This time, Leon braced himself as Reynard advanced. Their wooden swords clashed, and Leon pushed back with all his strength. He tried to recall Rachel's earlier lessons—keeping his stance low, staying balanced—but Reynard's overwhelming pressure was relentless. Every strike felt like it carried the force of a battering ram, and it was all Leon could do to stay on his feet.

Minutes passed, sweat trickling down Leon's brow as his arms grew heavier with each parry. He lunged forward, attempting to break Reynard's defense, but with a swift sidestep, Reynard disarmed him again.

Leon dropped to one knee, breathing hard. "I... I won't give up," he panted, forcing himself to stand.

Reynard observed him silently for a moment, then nodded approvingly. "That's enough for today."

Leon's eyes widened in surprise. "But I haven't even—"

Reynard raised a hand. "You've shown me what I needed to see."

Benedict stepped forward with a towel, which Leon gratefully accepted. Rachel approached, patting him on the back. "Not bad, little brother. You lasted longer than I expected."

Leon wiped the sweat from his face, exhaustion settling in. "It didn't feel like it..."

Reynard watched him with a thoughtful expression. "You have potential, boy. Raw, but potential nonetheless. Tomorrow, we begin proper training."

Leon looked up, determination burning in his gaze. "I'll be ready."

As the knight turned to leave, Eleanor appeared at the courtyard's entrance, a proud smile on her face. "You did well, Leon," she said gently. "Come inside and rest."

Leon nodded, feeling a mix of exhaustion and excitement. Today, he had taken the first step under the guidance of one of the kingdom's greatest warriors. The road ahead would be grueling, but deep within, he knew—he wouldn't walk it alone.