Days

Days crept by slowly, Life within the Duchy was peaceful. Alaric had made it a habit To visit his older sister Elena from time to time, following the end of his time in the Duchy Administration. The whole experience was behind him now and he had gotten past it in one piece. He was quite familiar with how running a business worked, from the family bakery Visit back in his previous life To the now familiar theoretical knowledge he possessed As a result of several lessons that the previous Alaric had experienced. 

However, running something as large as a Duchy was beyond that. A lot of responsibility came with all the work that was demanded of those who partook in the shot-calling, And finding the right men for the jobs was never really easy. Given the size of a fully functioning Ducal territory, Individuals who were hired to help In its governance usually were the cream of the crop. So for Alaric to say that all the men and women he had met in the past week were true professionals was not an overestimation of the individuals employed by the Eastern Duchy. 

This morning however was different from the rest. When he got up he was training individually today, the duke had more important matters to attend to. Their trip to the capital was fast approaching and several of the administrative issues had to be set into steady motion for them to run smoothly in their absence. 

He picked up an ordinary training sword and began practising his movements with his usual grace and fluidity. His sword style, largely influenced by the duke's sword style, was a thing of beauty to behold when the blade of the wielder was not in fact directed towards you. It was enthralling and exhilarating, it employed little defence and focused heavily on a swift overwhelming and unimpeded attack to attain victory. Each swing of the sword was meant to feel inevitable, and unavoidable, informing the enemy that the battle was lost when they had decided not to turn tail and run.

According to his brother, his fighting style had become a bit rogue-ish. It diverted from the usual sword-saint style of fighting, which those of the house of Astreaus were famed for. His father had not said anything about it as things stood, but from his own experiences, he knew time usually told its own tale. So he would wait for his father's judgement on the matter before doing anything to alter it. Besides he had fought that way for a large part of his life, so it would be hard to alter what had become second nature to him, when his life was on the line. 

But his fighting style wasn't too far gone, not anymore at least. He no longer possessed the muscle memory of his previous body and so if he wanted to get rid of certain elements, he could safely and comfortably do so, with the only obstacle being his willingness to completely get rid of fundamental parts of what made him feel like... him.

Within the training room, only his steady breath and precise swings resonated through the air. Calm and cool the air was, and the sky, illuminated by the morning sun, was a very beautiful shade of azure. Elara had been sent to go retrieve refreshments from the estate kitchen. Alaric's focused gaze did not leave the spot where his imagination had crafted the image of Lysandria's ruler. He had been training and theorizing on how he could force an opening in the Duke's well-polished swordplay. Every time they clashed swords, he felt inferior.

He would have been fine with that if not for the duke's dissatisfied look every time after a session, he was only sixteen after all. But the duke always seemed dissatisfied or disappointed and that had left him puzzled. Initially, he had assumed that it was because the Duke did not have a naturally equal partner to spar with, But as time went on things did not change. which led them to the conclusion that according to whatever otherworldly standards the Duke held him to, he was not fulfilling those standards.

As he had been in his previous life, the overachiever inside of them was left largely furious and so a fire grew within him. It would burn those expectations to the ground and set ablaze anything akin to a limitation in his own potential. The shadow fight with the Duke's imaginary figure commenced. 

As the Duke usually did, his shadow struck first, and Alaric dodged backwards to create some space between him and his imaginary father. The Duke didn't let up and he pursued him, left right left again, His father's imaginary blade descended upon him with such ferocity that it felt no different from the real thing despite it being a conjuration of his own mind. And so he responded to the imagination with a parry and another parry, and the exchange continued, the Duke on the front foot putting pressure on his son, while Alaric backpedalled, evaded and parried as he struggled to keep up with the incredible onslaught.

There was not a single opening in sight and he couldn't help but feel stumped. The shadow clash ended with the Duke's blade pointed at his neck, he had lost. With a sigh he sat down and considered things.

'Perhaps I've given that old man too much credit. He shouldn't be that formidable right,' he was the only one who could answer his question considering that he was the only one who could hear it as well. 

' I'm tired,' his gaze travelled towards the clock in the room. Lunchtime was fast approaching but not fast enough and he was hungry. After another sigh he got up, he summoned his link to the Akashic record and his information was beholden to him.

Name: Alaric Astraeus

Race: Human*

Age: 16

Titles: Worldwalker, Treacherous,

Soul Core Rank: A

Elemental Affinities: Lightning, Aether

Abilities: [Shroud of Shadows]

Attributes: Cosmic Eyes, Mental Fortress, Lesser Ascended Physique, Abyssal Bane, Grand Soul

Heritage: [Sylvan Oath][Aetherblade Nyx][Atlas' Promise][Retribution][Umbra Feline][Sweet Gaze][Steel Carapace][Damestress][Polished Truth][Styagian Core][Styagian Core][Breathpace][Foul Piece]

Principality Origin: Celestial Anti-Reality

He had yet to go through the things he had received from felling both Edith and Decrov. His gaze remained locked on the heritages he had received.

'Now is as good a time as any I guess.'