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The courtyard of Alistair Keep lay draped in the soft gray fog of early morning. Ravenswood, the western bastion of Eldoria, had always been a symbol of strength and unwavering duty. Its towering walls and cold stone halls were home to the most formidable knights in the realm. Yet, despite the grandeur of his surroundings, Vallis Alistair felt as though those very walls were closing in on him, suffocating him under the weight of expectations he had failed to meet.

He had returned to the keep just days ago, expelled from the Royal Academy. The shame of it had reached his father's ears long before he could even set foot on the gravel path leading to his ancestral home. The whispers of his disgrace had traveled far beyond these walls. Vallis Alistair, the second-born son of a noble house known for its warriors and leaders, had been deemed unworthy. His name—once meant to uphold the honor of his lineage—now dragged it through the mud.

Standing at the edge of the courtyard, Vallis stared at the training grounds where his brother, Rhys, sparred with several knights-in-training. The sound of clashing steel and grunts filled the air, a constant reminder of everything Vallis could never be. Rhys, tall and strong, moved with the grace of a predator, each swing of his sword sure and lethal. Every step, every strike, widened the gulf between them—one a warrior destined to inherit the Alistair legacy, the other a boy lost in thought.

Vallis's grip tightened around the ledger in his hands—the only duty his father had left him with now: managing the house's logistics. To him, it felt like a mockery of his failure, a task fit for a clerk, not a son of House Alistair. His body, smaller and slighter than those of his family, had never grown to match the expectations placed upon him. Despite the training, the endless hopes, and even the elixirs, he had failed. Even at the academy, he had been outpaced by boys younger than himself.

"You're back from your duties already?" Rhys's voice cut through Vallis's thoughts like a knife.

Vallis turned to see his brother approaching, his armor gleaming in the weak sunlight. His face, as always, was a mixture of pity and contempt. Rhys had been training since dawn, the sweat on his brow a testament to his dedication. Vallis looked down at his own hands, soft and unmarred by the calluses of combat.

"Finished early," Vallis replied curtly, avoiding his brother's gaze.

Rhys snorted. "Logistics. That's all you're fit for now, isn't it?"

Vallis swallowed the retort bubbling at the back of his throat. He had no energy left for this argument. The insult, however, stung. "Someone has to keep the family's finances running."

Rhys's smirk faltered briefly, but the familiar coldness returned. "With your fancy numbers and little inventions, a man must know how to fight! You're a disappointment to our family tsk."

The words landed like a blow. Vallis flinched inwardly, each word twisting deeper into the wound. Rhys didn't understand. He didn't know that Vallis had tried—tried harder than anyone knew.

But Vallis had a secret. He wasn't like the others in Eldoria. He had lived another life, in another world, one where swords and honor were relics of the past. He had been a modern young man, thrust into this medieval world. At first, he had marveled at the opportunity, at the chance to use his knowledge to make a difference. He had invented tools, methods of farming, even weapons that had brought wealth and stability to the Alistair lands. But none of that mattered in a world where valor was measured by the strength of one's sword arm.

"You think I don't know what I am?" Vallis snapped, surprising even himself. "You think I haven't heard the whispers, the laughs behind my back? I live with that shame every day. But I've done more for this family than you could ever understand."

Rhys stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "You're nothing without Father's pity. And now, even he's given up on you."

The words echoed in Vallis's mind. Even he's given up on you. His father, Lord Alistair, had once looked at him with pride, despite everything. But now, after his expulsion, after his failure to live up to the family name, Vallis couldn't help but wonder if Rhys was right.

"Vallis."

Their father's deep voice rang through the courtyard. Rhys immediately straightened, his face a mask of respect as Lord Alistair approached. The man was a towering figure, even in his older age, his presence casting a long shadow over his sons.

Lord Alistair looked between them, his gaze lingering on Vallis. There was no anger in his eyes, only a weariness, a disappointment that cut deeper than any reprimand.

"Father," Vallis said quietly, lowering his head.

Lord Alistair sighed. "I've heard the news from the academy. It's... unfortunate."

Vallis bit his lip, forcing himself to meet his father's gaze. "I—"

"Enough," Lord Alistair interrupted, his voice calm but firm. "You are still my son, Vallis. That will never change. But you must understand that the world does not wait for those who falter. The Alistair name bears weight, and you must carry it with pride."

Vallis nodded, though the shame burned deep within him. His father had always been fair, but Vallis could feel the unspoken words: You've failed me.

"I will continue my duties," Vallis said softly. "I will prove myself... in my own way."

Lord Alistair's eyes softened slightly, but the distance between them remained. "And you will son as you always have, for the sake of our family."

As Lord Alistair walked away, Rhys gave Vallis one last glance, his expression a mixture of superiority and pity. Vallis stood alone in the courtyard, the weight of his family's legacy pressing down on him like never before.

But deep inside, Vallis knew he was more than his family realized. Though his body was weak, his mind was sharp, filled with knowledge from another world. He wasn't meant to fight on the battlefield like Rhys. His strength lay in innovation, in creating things that could change the world. He had already transformed the family with his inventions—irrigation systems that brought bountiful harvests, weapons like his crossbow that gave even the weakest a chance in battle.

But it wasn't enough. He had to prove, not just to his father or Rhys, but to himself, that he could reshape the future of Eldoria.

One way or another, I will prove myself, Vallis thought, clenching his fists. I will show them all.