The training yard smelled of iron, sweat, and old blood.
Arell noticed it immediately the moment he stepped through the stone archway. The ground was hard-packed dirt, scarred by countless boot prints and blade marks. Wooden dummies stood in uneven rows, some split clean through, others dented so badly they leaned like wounded soldiers.
This was not a place meant for children.
Which made it perfect.
Arell rolled his shoulders slowly, working out the lingering stiffness from sleeping in a barn and nearly getting himself disowned at a council meeting. Blade was hidden safely in Mira's satchel nearby—complaining softly but wisely staying quiet.
Around him, the other heirs gathered.
Edmund stood with arrogant ease, arms crossed, already confident he owned this place. Cedric lingered beside him, eyes darting like a rat's, calculating rather than confident. Selene stood straight-backed, calm but alert, hands folded behind her back. Amanda paced in small circles, muttering to herself, eyes flicking to the dummies as if measuring angles and force.
Vivienne observed everything in silence.
Ava stood apart.
Arell clocked all of it in seconds.
Same shit, different century, he thought.Different weapons, same hierarchy.
Heavy footsteps approached.
The chatter died instantly.
A man stepped into the yard.
He was not as physically overwhelming as Captain Rodric—but there was something far more dangerous about him.
Vice-Captain Samuel.
He was lean, broad-shouldered, with weathered skin and steel-gray eyes that missed nothing. A scar ran from his temple to his jaw, old and clean, the kind left by a blade that nearly killed its owner. He wore simple armor—functional, unadorned—and carried no visible weapon.
Which meant he didn't need one.
Samuel stopped in front of them and looked over the assembled children.
Not as nobles.Not as heirs.
As soldiers.
"Good," he said calmly. "You're all alive."
Edmund scoffed.Arell raised an eyebrow.
Samuel's gaze snapped to Edmund.
"You," Samuel said. "Name."
"Edmund Valenhart," Edmund replied proudly. "First son of the—"
Samuel moved.
One moment he was standing still.The next, Edmund was flat on his back, the breath knocked clean from his lungs, staring at the sky in stunned silence.
Samuel stood over him, foot resting lightly on Edmund's chest.
"In this yard," Samuel said evenly, "you are not sons. You are not daughters. You are not heirs."
He leaned down slightly.
"You are bodies that may or may not survive."
The yard was dead silent.
Samuel stepped back, allowing Edmund to gasp and scramble away, humiliated.
"Captain Rodric oversees knights," Samuel continued. "I oversee survival."
He turned his gaze to Arell.
Arell met it calmly.
Samuel's eyes lingered a fraction longer than on the others.
Interesting.
"You," Samuel said. "Red hair."
Arell inclined his head. "Vice-Captain."
"Age?"
"Ten," Arell replied. "Unfortunately."
A few snickers escaped.
Samuel didn't smile.
"Mind older," Samuel said.
Arell didn't deny it.
Samuel nodded once. "Good. That'll keep you alive longer."
Amanda blinked. Selene frowned slightly.
Samuel clapped his hands once.
"Today's lesson is simple," he said. "Magic is restricted. Weapons are restricted. Titles are irrelevant."
He gestured to the yard.
"You will learn to move. To fall. To get up. To endure."
Cedric raised a hand and said. "What are we supposed to do here, run around?
Samuel looked at him.
"Yes."
Cedric swallowed.
"Vice-Captain," Vivienne spoke smoothly, "the ladies of this house dont have any opportunities of ruling over this household or the knight and sorceror command then why summon us three sisters here?
Samuel's gaze cut to her. " lord reinhardt has thought that this training shall be beneficial for you since you are about to join the royal academy, you have already completed your traning with young lord edmund under captain rodric, but the duke has decided for you to join this training, now any more questions?"
"No sir",Vivienne closed her mouth.
Samuel turned back to the group.
"Run."
They hesitated.
Samuel's voice dropped.
"Now."
They ran.
The first lap was chaos—noble children unused to real exertion, breath hitching, steps uneven. Arell ran last, deliberately slow, conserving energy, watching how Samuel watched them.
He's measuring weakness, Arell realized.Not strength.
Edmund tried to surge ahead, burning stamina fast. Cedric struggled almost immediately. Selene maintained steady pacing. Amanda adjusted stride intelligently, correcting inefficiencies mid-run.
Arell smiled faintly.
Good. Some brains here.
By the fifth lap, legs burned.
By the tenth, lungs screamed.
By the fifteenth, Cedric collapsed.
Samuel didn't react.
"Get up," he said.
Cedric tried. Failed.
Samuel walked over, crouched, and spoke quietly.
"If this is where you stop," he said, "then pray your enemies are merciful."
Something flickered in Cedric's eyes.
Fear. Rage. Shame.
He stood.
Arell watched closely.
Pressure makes cracks—or steel.
After the run came falls.
Samuel demonstrated once—how to hit the ground without breaking bone. He threw Edmund like a sack of grain.
Edmund screamed.
"Again," Samuel said.
Hours passed.
Bruises bloomed. Hands shook. Pride was scraped raw.
When Samuel finally dismissed them, the children collapsed wherever they stood.
Arell remained upright.
Barely—but upright.
Samuel approached him last.
"You didn't show off," Samuel observed. "Didn't rush. Didn't complain."
Arell shrugged. "I've learned that loud people die first."
Samuel studied him carefully.
"You've seen violence," he said.
Arell met his eyes. "Enough."
Samuel nodded.
"Tomorrow," Samuel said, "we add coordination. Group tactics. Leadership under stress."
His gaze slid briefly to Edmund… then Cedric… then back to Arell.
"Some of you will fail," he said calmly. "That's acceptable."
He turned to leave.
Arell spoke before he could stop himself.
"Vice-Captain."
Samuel paused.
Arell chose his words carefully.
"If the trials are meant to kill us," he said, "why train us at all?"
Samuel looked back over his shoulder.
"Because," he said, "the Duke doesn't want survivors."
Samuel's eyes hardened.
"He wants monsters worth ruling."
And with that, he walked away.
Arell exhaled slowly.
His body ached. His muscles trembled.
But his mind was razor-sharp.
This isn't a game, he thought.This is a forge.
Blade whimpered softly from Mira's bag as she hurried over.
"You're bleeding," she whispered.
Arell glanced down at scraped knuckles.
"Yeah," he said. "Worth it."
He looked back at the training yard.
At the dirt. The scars. The silence.
And for the first time since waking in this world, Arell felt something dangerous settle into place.
Not fear.
Readiness.
TO BE CONTINUED…