Chapter 23: Wise words

Two days had passed since the near kidnapping of his mother and the reclamation of the eastern lands. The empire was safe, for now, and the eastern region once again flew the banners of the Perdium Empire. But for Leonis, peace had not yet settled in his heart.

The tension from that night still haunted him—his father's fury, the fear in his mother's eyes, and the brutal battle against the orcs. He had come so far, but it wasn't enough. He still wasn't strong enough. And that weighed on him as much as the sword in his hand.

His uncle, Lord Alistair Perdium, stood before him now in the training grounds, his face impassive and calm as he twirled his sword effortlessly in one hand. Leonis, sweating and out of breath, had been sparring with him for what felt like hours. He hadn't landed a single hit.

"Again," Alistair commanded, his voice firm but patient.

Leonis gritted his teeth, adjusting his grip on the hilt of his sword. He couldn't let this defeat get to him. Not here. Not in front of his uncle.

Without warning, he lunged forward, his sword flashing in the sunlight as he aimed for Alistair's side. But his uncle was faster. He sidestepped with ease, his blade deflecting Leonis's strike with a simple flick of the wrist.

The force of the deflection sent a jolt through Leonis's arm, but he kept his footing, spinning around to try again. This time, he aimed for his uncle's legs, hoping to catch him off guard. But Alistair effortlessly leaped back, avoiding the strike entirely.

Leonis growled in frustration. No matter how fast he moved, no matter how much mana he channeled into his attacks, it was like trying to hit a ghost.

"You're overextending," Alistair said, his voice calm. "Your strikes are too obvious."

Leonis's breathing was heavy as he straightened, glaring at his uncle. "Obvious? I've been attacking from every angle!"

"And I've countered every one of them." Alistair's eyes were sharp, like a hawk watching its prey. "Power is nothing without precision. You're swinging wildly, hoping to land a hit. That won't work against an experienced opponent."

Leonis's jaw clenched. He hated how calm his uncle was. How untouchable he seemed. No matter what Leonis tried, Alistair was always two steps ahead.

"Again," Alistair said, gesturing for him to attack.

Leonis hesitated for a moment, then charged forward, feinting to the left before sweeping his sword toward Alistair's right side. For a split second, he thought he had caught his uncle off guard. But once again, Alistair's blade was there, blocking the strike with a sound that echoed across the training ground.

"Too slow," Alistair muttered, shoving Leonis back with ease.

The force of the shove sent Leonis stumbling, his feet sliding in the dirt as he struggled to regain his balance. His chest heaved as he stared at his uncle, his frustration mounting.

"You're not thinking," Alistair continued, his voice as steady as ever. "You're relying too much on brute force."

Leonis gripped his sword tighter, his knuckles white. "I'm trying."

"You're trying to fight like your father," Alistair said, lowering his sword slightly. "But you're not him."

Those words struck a chord in Leonis. He felt a pang of something between anger and sorrow. He wasn't his father. He knew that. He wasn't the legendary swordsman or emperor who could strike fear into the hearts of his enemies with a single glance. He was just… Leonis. The son who had spent his entire life in the shadow of Valerian Perdium.

"I'm not my father," Leonis muttered, his voice low. "But I can still fight."

"You can," Alistair agreed. "But not like this."

Leonis wiped the sweat from his brow, his chest still rising and falling with each labored breath. "Then what do I do? Tell me."

Alistair smiled faintly. "You need to find your own style. Your own rhythm. You've been trained to fight like your father, but your strength lies in something else."

Leonis frowned, confused. "Something else?"

Alistair sheathed his sword and walked toward Leonis, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're quick. More agile than Valerian ever was. Your strength isn't in raw power; it's in speed and precision. But you need to learn to control it."

Leonis looked down at his sword, the reflection of the blade staring back at him. Speed and precision… He had never thought of it like that. He had always believed he needed to match his father's strength, to live up to the legacy of the Perdium family. But maybe his uncle was right.

"Let's take a break," Alistair said, his tone softer now. "You're exhausted. Pushing yourself any further won't help."

Leonis nodded, though a part of him still felt the urge to keep going, to prove himself. But he knew Alistair was right. He was pushing too hard, and it wasn't getting him anywhere.

As they walked over to the side of the training grounds, Leonis's mind was racing. He thought back to the battle in the east, to the orc general, to his father's terrifying display of power. He had been fighting with all his might, but it hadn't been enough. Not enough to match his father, not enough to make a real difference.

"Uncle," Leonis said quietly as they sat down, "do you think I'll ever be as strong as him?"

Alistair looked at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Strength comes in many forms, Leonis. Your father's strength is unmatched in raw power, yes. But strength isn't just about how many enemies you can cut down. It's about resilience, strategy, and knowing your own limits."

Leonis stared at the ground, feeling a weight on his chest. "I just… I don't want to fail."

"You won't," Alistair said, his voice firm. "But you need to stop trying to become someone else. You need to become the best version of yourself."

Leonis looked up at his uncle, the words sinking in. Maybe that was what he had been missing all along. He had been so focused on becoming like his father, on proving himself worthy of the Perdium name, that he had lost sight of who he really was.

"I'll keep training," Leonis said after a moment, determination hardening his voice. "But I'll do it my way."

Alistair smiled. "Good. That's what I wanted to hear."

As they sat in the fading light of the afternoon, Leonis felt a renewed sense of purpose. His journey wasn't about living up to anyone else's expectations. It was about carving his own path, finding his own strength.

And he was just getting started.