The training ground was located outdoors, at the back of the castle, led between the majestic royal residend the vast garden that stretched to the horizon. This regur, spacious, and well-maintained area was surrounded by tall wooden fences reinforced with metal, desigo ensure safety during exercises.

  The terrain, well-leveled but not pletely smooth, featured occasional tufts of wild grass sproutiween stones and patches of sand, giving the field a natural and slightly uneven appearahis type of fl had been iionally chosen to prepare fighters to train on various types of surfaces and to simute the most realistic battle ditions.

  At the ter of the training area stood several straw targets and wooden dummies, now splintered and marked with deep wounds.

  In one er, an array of swords and shields was ly arranged on wooden racks, ready for use. The variety of swords, some a and adorned with golden inys, others simpler and more funal, underscored the importance of training in courtly life.

  Fortunately for Mirac, who had no iion of tolerating further deys, the instructor was already present, positio the ter of the field with his body turhree-quarters toward the entrae. His gaze wandered over the flowered horizon of the garden, as if he were p something distant.

  "Oh, young Prince!" Leonard excimed, startled by Mirac's arrival. He hurried to approach, his stride fident and his faimated by a respectful smile.

  "Have a good lesson, young Prince," said Carmen with a slight bow before moving away to resume her duties.

  As Leonard approached, Mirac took the opportunity to study him closely.

  The instructor had medium-length brown hair with unruly strands falling over his forehead, framing a youthful face marked by experience. His blue eyes shoh sharp determination, and his fair plexion highlighted the refined features of a man eared to be in his thirties.

  The uniform he wore exuded an aura of authority and tradition. Made in a deep red, a color closely associated with the military realm of the Kingdom of Ardorya, the fabric—sturdy yet surprisingly light, likely wool—was desigo withstand the harsh ditions of military enviros.

  Every detail was not merely decorative but carried specific meaning tied to the wearer's rank and role: the high, stiff colr was edged with a bck trim, a color associated with the highest ranks. The epaulets were adorned with golden braids, a distinctive symbol of the significe of his position.

  The numerous golden buttons, finely decorated and arranged along the jacket, created a striking visual effect, giving the uniform a ceremonial appearahe cuffs, finished with a bck trim and a fold, added ara touch of sophistication. The discreetly hidden side pockets ensured funality without promisihetics.

  The long trousers, of a simpler design, were bd matched perfectly with the calf-high boots, also bck, which looked practical and durable.

  As he approached, the Grand Knight kept his hand on the iron hilt of his longsword, which protruded from the bck leather sheath secured to his right side. The hilt, visible above the sheath, gave the on a menag yet elegant appearance, refleg the value the on held for him.

  Once he was a step away from Mirac, Leonard bowed respectfully, his posture perfed deferential.

  "It is an honor to train you personally, young Prince. I promise I will not disappoint you!" he decred with a mixture of eagerness and pride at the task entrusted to him.

  Then, as if struck by a sudden realizatioarted slightly:

  "Oh, five me! I fot to introduce myself: my name is-"

  "There is no need, Grand Knight Leonard," Miraterrupted him, halting his bow halfway. "King Arthur has already spoken to me at length about you during today's lunch."

  Leonard smiled, rexing slightly.

  "I am gd to hear that, young Prince. If that is the case, I will do my best to live up to your expectations!"

  Finished speaking, Leonard stepped bad picked up two wooden swords resting on a nearby rack. He examihem carefully before handing oo Mirac.

  "To start, we'll use this," Leonard said. "It's a wooden sword, perfect for the first lessons. Heavy enough to let you feel the movement, but safe enough to avoid acts."

  Mirac took the sword with some reluce, feeling its light but noticeable weight in his hands. The polished wooden hilt was smooth to the touch, and the on seemed almost harmless pared to the real sword hanging at Leonard's side.

  "It's not what I imagined," Mirac admitted, lifting the sword with both hands and examining it. "It feels... like a toy!"

  Leonard smiled, clearly amused.

  "Do not be deceived by appearances, young Prince. Swordsmanship is an a art, and before wielding a real sword, one must learn the fual movements, trol, and discipline. Every great swordsman started here, with a wooden sword."

  "Even you?" asked Mirac, though he already khe answer.

  But every now and then, he had to do it: pretend to be surprised and raise his eyebrows, to mask his true mental age and make the image of a 7-year-old child more believable.

  Leonard nodded with a smile.

  "Exactly! It all starts from this moment. But before fog on striking, we must discuss how to hold a sword."

  Leonard positioned himself beside Mirac, gripping his own wooden sword.

  "Observe my posture. The position of the legs is the foundation of everything. Left foot forward, right foot back, knees slightly bent. This will give you band stability."

  Mirac tried to mimic the instructor, but his movements were stiff and uain. Leonard stepped clently adjusting the position of his legs and arms.

  "Well done! Now grip the sword with both hands: your dominant hand, the one you write with, should be just above the handle, while the other hand goes at the base. The grip should be firm but not tid. Also, remember that you must feel the on as aension of your body."

  Mirac tightened his grip on the hilt as suggested, trying to find a bahat was her too tight nor too loose. Leonard observed carefully, patiently correg every mistake.

  "Much better! Now, let's begin with a simple lunge. Point the sword forward and push it in a smooth motion, keeping your body steady. The lunge is one of the simplest strikes, but it requires precision."

  Mirac lifted the sword and attempted the lunge, but the movement was clumsy and imprecise. The tip of the sword didn't go where he intended, often ending up off-ter.

  Leonard watched without intervening immediately, allowing Mirac to experiehe mistake.

  "Don't worry if it's not perfe the first try," Leonard said encingly. "No one was born with a sword in their hand. Every mistake is a step forward toward improvement. Let's try again, more slowly this time."

  "All right!" replied the young Prihis time with a hint of gehusiasm.

  Mirac repeated the motion, carefully following the instructuidance. He felt the weight of the sword pulling on his arm, the tension in his muscles, and the o coordinate every part of his body to execute a single fluid gesture.

  "Tsz!" Mirac huffed, frustrated at his inability to master the movement as he desired.

  After a few more attempts, his frustration began to rise quickly, but Leonard's patienced him not to give up.

  "Very good, you're improving! Every movement, even the smallest one, has a purpose. Now, try to hit that target in front of you."

  Mirac looked at the target indicated by the instructor: a simple circle of straw positioned a few steps away.

  'All right, you little bastard, it's you and me!'

  He took a deep breath, trying to piece together everything Leonard had taught him in just a few minutes.

  He lunged again, this time with greater vi. The tip of the sword struck the target—not perfectly at the ter, but close enough t a smile of satisfa to Leonard's face.

  "Excellent, young Prihis is just the beginning, but it shows that you have the determination o improve. It's not just about strength, but about the mind and body w in unison."

  Mirac lowered the sword, his heart pounding.

  'Damn! This is way harder than I thought…'

  As Mirac caught his breath, Leonard stepped closer.

  "Shall we tihe instructor asked, ready to move on to the lesson.

  Miraodded, gripping the sword with renewed enthusiasm.

  "Let's tinue!"

  Leonard's face lit up as he saw Mirac's fighting spirit.

  "Good. Now we'll move on to parry and terattack exercises," Leonard expined, approag Mirac. "In battle, knowing how to defend is just as important as knowing how to attack. The sword is not just an offensive on: it's also our shield."

  Gripping his wooden sword firmly and taking a steady stance, Leonard tinued with an encing smile:

  "Now, young Prince, I want you to strike me with your sword, from any dire you desir-"

  Mirac didn't waste another sed. Without waiting for the instructor to finish speaking, the young Prince lunged forward, delivering a decisive and quick strike with his sword.

  He wao uand how skilled and fast the "sed stro swordsman in the world" was with a sword, studying his rea instincts. And what better way to do it than by trying to strike him when he least expected it?

  Mirached the attack with determination, but without the necessary speed to catch his oppo off guard, making it iive.

  Indeed, Leonard's response was lightning-fast: his sword moved with surprising fluidity, drawing a brief but precise lihrough the air, and with disarming simplicity, he intercepted Mirac's strike.

  A fident smile tugged at Leonard's lips as the wood of the two swords met with a sharp sound.

  "Not bad, young Prince," said Leonard in a teag tone, l his guard as Mirac stepped back. "But swordsmanship isn't just about strength or speed. It also requires precision and trol. Let me show you."

  Leonard took a step back, rotating the sword with fluid movements.

  "Parries are divided into categories, each desigo intercept an attack from a specifigle. Each parry has a number associated with it, making it easier to learn and remember. For example," he raised his sword in a high position, ao deflect a downward strike, "this is the fourth parry. Perfect for defleg blows aimed at the head."

  Leonard lowered the sword.

  "Now, young Prince, I will attack, and you must parry with what I just showed you. When you think you have the ce to terattack, do it."

  Miraodded, trying to hide the growiement and ay within him.

  "Alright!"

  Without hesitation, Leonard sprang into a.

  With a fluid motion, Leonard raised his wooden sword and delivered a downward strike. The sound of the wood slig through the air made Mirac flinch, but the young Prince reacted instinctively, lifting his sword to parry, trying to imitate the fourth parry that his master had shown him.

  Although Leonard had trolled the force of the blow, the impact was enough to force Mirac to bend his knees and lower himself to maintain his bance.

  'Damn, what strength!' thought the young Priightening his grip on the hilt to avoid losing hold of it.

  Leonard smiled, the ess of his face a stark trast to the iy of his movements.

  "Very good! But remember, the parry is not just for defe should also give you the opportunity to react."

  Before Mirac could respond, Leonard attacked again, a simir blow from above. This time, the young Prince was more prepared. He raised his sword with determination, stopping the attack with enough forake his arms vibrate, but without losing ground.

  "Better," Leonard ented.

  'But now, let's see how you hahis...' thought the knight as he raised his sword once more.

  But instead ing it down, Leonard ged direid-swing, delivering a quick sideways strike.

  Mirac, caught by surprise, barely ma the sword into the correct positioical, close to his face, and perpendicur to the ground. The sound of wood g against w out clearly.

  'Oh, that was close!' thought Mirac, breathing heavily. 'I was lucky, but I 't keep going like this!'

  Limiting himself to just blog the blows, without ever taking the initiative, would have prevented him from terattag.

  Mirac was fully aware of this, just as he was aware that the speed of his small, young body was too slow to approach Leonard without the tter easily reag in time, as he had done before.

  Thinking about it carefully, the only possibility that came to his mind was to catch Leonard by surprise.

  But this time, for real!

  To do this, Mirac waited for that brief instant when the knight, as always, would withdraw his sword after the attack to prepare for arike. All of this was to deliberately avoid g with the direct resistance of his Master, who would certainly bloy attempt.

  As soon as Leonard's bde began to retreat, Mirac seized the moment. He followed the knight's sword movement and pushed it away with such ease that even a seven-year-old child like him would have been able to do it.

  Leonard's sword swung horizontally in a wide half-arc.

  Finally, as pnned, Miraged forward, aiming for Leonard's exposed chest, his body tense in an instinctive defense.

  However, Leonard was already prepared: his bde met the tip of Mirac's sword with a sharp sound, blog the blow with impeccable precision.

  In an instant, and with a decisive motion, Leonard forcefully pushed his student's on, f the tter to step back a few paces.

  Mirac immediately regained his stance, his hands gripping the hilt as he had been taught, ready to tinue.

  However, when he looked at Leonard, he caught a look of genuine admiration.

  "Good job!" the knight excimed, l his sword. "Your reflexes are quite impressive!"

  Mirac rexed his muscles, l his guard as he caught his breath.

  "Oh, really?!" he asked, almost blushing at the pliment.

  Leonard calmly set his wooden sword on the ground, the tip toug the earth while his hands gripped the hilt.

  "Unfortunately, though, reflexes alone will never be enough," Leonard said. "Sometimes you might lose sight of the enemy. They could be hiding in the shadows or moving silently betweerees, ready to strike. Or, it could be that the fusion of the battlefield distracts you, clouding your senses. In those moments, strength, speed, reflexes, and mastery of the sword won't be enough to save your life."

  His expression grew serious, his eyes fixed on the disciple.

  "Remember, young Prince... If you want to survive, do as you did today: always trust your instincts!"

  Mirac swallowed, feeling a sense of danger and foreboding in those words.

  'Wow, how creepy!' he thought, his eyes widening slightly. 'But, he's irely wrong...'

  Leonard carefully observed the expression of the young prince, as if he wao be sure that his words hadn't had too heavy an effect. After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat and said:

  "Umm... I hope I haven't frightened you, young Prihat wasn't my iion…"

  Mirac, still shaken by the force of that speech, took a step forward and smiled.

  "No, Master, don't worry. It takes much more to scare me."

  The Master, visibly relieved, nodded without saying a word, while an amused smile appeared on his lips.

  "Oh, really? Heh, well then," Leonard said at st, raising his swain. "If that's really the case, let's tinue."

  Without wasting any more time, they resumed their training, both unaware that they were being watched by someone.