Reinhardt glanced down at the boy still lying on the ground. For a brief moment, there was a look of satisfaction in his eyes. Then it vanished, replaced once again by his usual stern expression.
He slid his sword back into its sheath.
"The duel is over," he said flatly.
Lionel exhaled in relief, his tired body was already melting against the cold stone floor.
Finally… he thought.
He closed his eyes for a second, trying to savor the short moment of peace. But that peace didn't last.
"However," Reinhardt's voice came again just a minute after, "that doesn't mean your lessons are done."
"…Huh?" Lionel's eyes snapped open.
"Stand up," Reinhardt ordered.
Lionel blinked, unsure if he heard that right.
"Wait… we're not done?" he asked weakly.
The captain crossed his arms.
"We just did a duel because you're late, young man."
Lionel groaned as he slowly pushed himself up with shaky arms.
"You can't be serious…"
"I'm always serious," Reinhardt replied with a small smirk playing on his lips. "Since you've greatly improved, I'll go easy on you today."
Lionel stopped in his tracks when he heard those words. He glanced at the man and stared at him, completely dumbfounded.
"Really?" His eyes brightened at that.
Reinhardt picked up a wooden stick from the rack beside them and tossed one toward Lionel.
"Yes. Instead of using a sword, I'll let you use that stick. We'll focus on endurance drills today. You'll only do 100 push-ups, 200 swings, and 5 laps around the yard."
"…" Lionel nearly dropped the stick. "That's easy for you?"
"Would you prefer the normal training instead?" Reinhardt raised a brow.
"No, sir!" Lionel quickly shook his head.
Lionel's shoulders slumped as memories of their "normal training" came rushing back to his mind.
Training with Captain Reinhardt wasn't really training. It was pure torture that he called discipline.
He remembered those mornings when he had to wake up before sunrise. The air would still be cold, but Reinhardt would already be there waiting for him.
The first part of the training was 200 push-ups. Not one less. If Lionel's arms shook or if his form was wrong, Reinhardt would simply say, "Start over."
He had never once shouted, but his calm and serious tone somehow made it worse.
Then what followed was 500 swings of the sword. Each one had to be clean and strong. If Lionel got lazy even once, Reinhardt would reset the count and say, "You're still at thirty," even if Lionel had already done eighty.
And after all of that would be the running. 10 laps around the whole training yard. And it was just not normal jogging, but sprinting. If he slowed down, Reinhardt would add 1 more lap "to build endurance."
Every time he was done, Lionel would collapse on the ground, soaked in sweat and gasping for air, feeling like his body wasn't his anymore. Reinhardt would just look down at him and say, "Tomorrow, you'll do better."
Just remembering all that made Lionel's soul almost leave his body. He might have experienced worse than that, but with his current age, that was still scary.
Now, standing in front of the captain again, Lionel forced a weak laugh.
"Actually… 5 laps sound amazing, Sir," he said, trying to joke even though he was clearly dying inside.
Reinhardt just nodded quietly, enough to make Lionel nervous.
"I thought so," he said. "Then stop standing there and start. The yard won't run itself."
Lionel sighed and dragged his tired legs toward the open field. His body already ached from the duel earlier, but deep inside, he knew this was what he needed
If he wanted to get back the strength he once had and even go beyond it, he had to push through this.
"Alright," he muttered under his breath, gripping the stick tightly. "Let's just get this over with."
While Lionel did his own thing, the soldiers nearby, who were pretending to train, were trying their hardest not to show their pity.
"Poor young master…"
"He lasted through the captain's attack, but he won't survive the laps."
"At least he's getting stronger!"
"At least the young master has it better than us."
The last words made everyone sigh. They could relate to Lionel as they have been through that too. They even have it worse because what Lionel was doing was only their warm-up drills on a normal day.
Despite hearing the comments on the side, Lionel took a deep breath and started his push-ups on the cold stone ground. His arms were already sore from the duel earlier, and every time he lowered his chest, his muscles screamed in protest.
"One…" he muttered under his breath.
"Two…"
By the time he reached 50, his arms were already trembling. Sweat rolled down his face and dripped onto the floor.
Reinhardt, who stood nearby with his arms crossed, watched quietly.
"Keep your back straight," the captain said calmly. "Push-ups are useless if your form is wrong."
"Yes… sir…" Lionel grunted, trying to correct his posture even as his arms shook uncontrollably.
When he finally reached 100, he dropped flat on the ground, panting heavily. For a moment, he thought of just lying there forever. But Reinhardt's voice came again.
"Get up. Next, 200 swings."
Lionel groaned and forced himself to stand, grabbing the wooden stick. His shoulders were starting to burn, but he still raised the stick anyway and started swinging.
"One… two… three…"
At first, his movements were clean and steady. But by the time he reached 100, his form began to fall apart. The stick started to shake in his hands, and his breathing grew a little ragged.
"Keep your arms up in a proper stance, Lionel."
"I'm… trying…" Lionel muttered through gritted teeth. His whole world had narrowed down to the stick in his hands and the pain spreading across his arms.
Every swing felt heavier than the last, but he refused to stop.
By the time he hit 200, his breathing was loud and uneven. He dropped the stick beside him and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. His arms felt like jelly.
Reinhardt showed a little compassion and allowed Lionel to rest for a while. But after a few minutes, his voice came again.
"Now, five laps."
With a groan, Lionel started running around the yard. His boots thudded against the stone. The sun was now high in the sky, so the heat made it even worse.
The first lap was easy. The second lap was manageable. The third lap made his breathing shallow. The fourth one made his legs feel like jelly. And the fifth one? It almost made his vision blur.
But he didn't stop.
When he finally finished his fifth lap, he lay on the ground.
Finally!
He did it.
Reinhardt watched him quietly, then gave a small nod of approval.
"Good," he said simply. "Rest for now. You've earned it."
"Wait, really?" Lionel blinked in surprise.
"Yes." Reinhardt gave a short nod. "You won't be seeing me for about a week. The duke has ordered me to join him on a trip to the borderlands. We'll be leaving early tomorrow. However, you'll continue the training on your own and with the remaining soldiers even when I'm gone."
Lionel stared at him for a moment, and then, inside his head, the heavens practically opened up. He didn't care if he still had to train. It was fine as long as it was not with Sir Reinhardt!
"Understood, sir." His lips almost twitched into a grin, but he quickly held it back, pretending to just nod respectfully.
That's the best news I've heard all day!
"Either way, your cousin, Cassian, is said to arrive at the estate in 5 days. You may train with him in my absence."
"…" Lionel's expression completely changed.
And that's the worst news I've heard all day.