Lesson of Steel

Lesson of Steel

The blade was heavier than she expected.

Eris adjusted her grip, but the weight of the training sword sent a dull ache through her wrist. It wasn't the effortless swing she had imagined—it was sluggish, awkward, wrong.

Across from her, Sir Alec Varrow watched in silence, arms crossed.

"Strange?" he asked.

She exhaled, steadying herself. "Different from what I imagined."

Alec huffed. "Books tend to lie about these things."

His gaze lingered on her form, sharp and assessing. He was still skeptical of her. Understandable.

He hadn't agreed to train her immediately.

---

Earlier That Day

Convincing him had been a battle in itself.

The training grounds were nearly empty by the time Eris arrived.

The air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and old steel. Sunlight glinted off racks of polished swords, their edges worn from years of practice. A few young squires moved about, cleaning equipment and tending to the sand-covered floor, but the true warriors had already finished their morning drills.

At the far end of the yard, near the shadow of the armory, stood Sir Alec Varrow.

A former knight, once a commander in her father's army, now reduced to overseeing training sessions for the younger generation. His presence was unmistakable—broad-shouldered, his hair streaked with gray, his movements measured and deliberate. Though no longer bound to the battlefield, there was no mistaking the warrior beneath the surface.

Eris approached carefully.

"Sir Alec," she greeted, her voice composed.

The knight turned, his sharp eyes flicking to her. For a moment, he said nothing, merely studying her as though weighing her presence. Then, with a small nod, he spoke.

"Your Highness," he acknowledged, his tone even but respectful. "What brings you to the training grounds?"

She met his gaze, keeping her expression neutral. "I've been reading about the history of warfare," she said smoothly. "Battlefield tactics, sword forms, combat strategies. But theory alone is lacking. I wished to observe proper technique firsthand."

Alec arched a brow. "And the royal library could not provide such knowledge?"

"Books can only do so much," Eris replied lightly. "They describe movements, but they do not show them. I thought perhaps you, as a seasoned warrior, could offer insight beyond mere words."

Alec crossed his arms. "You seek to understand combat through observation?"

"Precisely," she nodded. "It is the duty of a royal to understand the strengths and limitations of those who fight for them, is it not?"

He was silent for a moment, then let out a thoughtful hum.

"You are not wrong, Princess," he admitted. "Many nobles make the mistake of underestimating what true combat requires." His gaze sharpened. "But watching from the sidelines will not grant understanding. A scholar cannot master war from ink alone."

Eris allowed the faintest trace of amusement to touch her lips. "Then what would you suggest?"

Alec studied her for a long moment.

"If you are truly interested in understanding," he said finally, "then you must feel the weight of a blade yourself."

Eris stilled, keeping her satisfaction hidden.

"Surely that would be improper," she said, feigning mild hesitation. "A princess wielding a weapon?"

"A royal who has never held a blade is one who does not understand the burden of war," Alec replied evenly. "If you wish to learn, I will teach you—not as a knight trains a soldier, but as a scholar learns the tools of their trade."

Eris inclined her head. "Then I will take this lesson, Sir Alec."

He nodded, motioning toward the weapons rack.

"Let us begin."

Back to the Present

Alec stepped forward and nudged her foot with his boot. "Wider stance. Unless you want to collapse the moment steel meets steel."

Eris obeyed, adjusting her footing. She didn't flinch at the correction. If anything, she welcomed it.

She needed this.

"Swing."

She obeyed. The sword cut through the air, but her form was unpolished, her grip too stiff. Too slow, too weak.

Alec sighed. "That will not do. You're holding it like a quill, not a weapon."

He adjusted her fingers with precise, impersonal movements. "Loosen your grip. A blade is not something you choke the life out of—it must become an extension of yourself."

She listened, trying to internalize every correction.

Alec stepped back. "Again."

She swung. The weight still sent tremors up her arms, but the exhaustion wasn't as suffocating as before. She could feel herself adapting.

A flicker of thought passed through her mind, and instinctively, she glanced at the corner of her vision.

[✔ PHYSICAL CAPACITY: Rank C - C+] (Increased endurance and agility, minor strength boost.]

Her breath hitched. So it was working.

She adjusted her stance, testing her improved endurance. The discomfort remained, but it no longer felt unbearable.

Alec noticed.

"Your footwork is sloppy," he said. His blade knocked hers aside with ease. "You move too much. Economy of motion. Small steps. Controlled shifts."

She clenched her jaw. Every correction felt like stripping away everything she knew—but she refused to stop.

Another glance at her status.

[✔ MENTAL RESILIENCE: Rank C+ - B-] (Improved resistance against fear, mind-affecting effects, and system pressure.]

Her breath steadied. The frustration and exhaustion no longer felt overwhelming.

She adjusted her grip.

"No," she said, meeting Alec's gaze. "I'm not tired yet."

A flicker of approval passed through his expression before vanishing.

"Good." He raised his sword. "Again."

The clash of steel rang through the training yard.

Each strike chipped away hesitation.

Each parry carved away weakness.

Each moment forged something sharper inside her.

By evening, Eris left the training grounds, a quiet satisfaction settling in her chest.

The sword no longer felt entirely foreign in her grip. It would take time, but she would master it.

With real-world training and system rewards, she would become more than adequate—she would become dangerous.

Alec watched her go, arms crossed.

She had not fooled him. The excuses, the roundabout reasoning—he saw through it all.

She was here for one thing: training. And without her family's approval.

That told him everything.

Every royal family had a shadow. The forgotten ones. The overlooked ones.

People like that had two choices—fade into obscurity or carve their own place in the world.

At least she was trying.

Alec exhaled, shaking his head. She might not be Divine-tier, but hard work could carve through fate itself.

His lips quirked slightly.

"Let's see how far you'll go, Princess."