CHAPTER 112: WHAT HAPPENED TO HER? [1]

Four days had passed since the Rithvale letter arrived.

And the estate had settled into what could generously be called calm. The servants went about their duties with practiced efficiency, the grounds maintained their immaculate appearance, and the daily rhythm of noble life continued its predictable dance.

But underneath the surface, tension coiled like a spring wound too tight.

"Haa... Haa..."

Alaric stood in the training yard, sweat already beading despite the morning chill.

The sun had barely cleared the horizon, painting everything in shades of gray and gold.

"Your stance is wrong."

A voice cut through his concentration.

He clicked his tongue as a beautiful woman circled him like a hawk, green eyes catching every imperfection.

When did she become a weapons master?

"My stance is fine." He said, adjusting his grip on the practice sword anyway.

How did it come to this?

He thought inwardly.

A few hours earlier, he had discovered just how tight Selene appeared outside his door at dawn, already dressed in practical riding clothes and carrying what looked suspiciously like training equipment.

"Time to work," she announced, pushing past him before he could object.

"Real work, not the amateur hour you’ve been indulging in. Get dressed. Something you can move in without falling apart."

She set a leather case on his desk with deliberate force.

"Five minutes."

And then left the room, leaving wide eyed Alaric at her sudden shift of behavior.

What the...

His eyes then fell on the desk, he stretched his body and then gone to bathroom.

After a while, when he emerged from his room in simple training clothes, she was studying a sheet of parchment covered in neat handwriting.

"Your schedule," she said, not looking up. "Dawn sword work, morning essence training, afternoon practical applications, evening review. No exceptions, or any kind of negotiations."

Alaric took the paper, scanning the precisely timed blocks of activity.

He raised a brow.

"This looks like a prison sentence."

"It’s preparation for survival." Now she did look at him, and something in her eyes made his casual complaint die in his throat.

The transformation was startling.

Gone was the woman who had shown vulnerability over wine and firelight. In her place stood someone who might have stepped from a military academy, back straight, movements precise, eyes holding the kind of focus that brooked no argument.

Just what the hell was happened to her in few days?

Then without waiting for any response, she turned on her heels, leaving him there standing.

Twenty minutes later, he stood in the estate’s training yard with Master Korven, a compact man whose scarred hands spoke of decades wielding steel.

The sword master studied Alaric with the dispassionate gaze of someone evaluating livestock.

"Show me your stance," Korven commanded.

Alaric fell into the ready position he’d been using all the time.

Korven then began drilling him some tricks, stating corrections, which only seemed errors to him.

Selene watched from the yard’s edge, making notes in that same leather journal. Every mistake documented, every correction observed and analyzed.

She’s treating this like a military campaign, Alaric thought, picking himself up for the dozenth time.

The realization was both irritating and oddly impressive. He’d underestimated her again.

"Better," Korven grudgingly admitted after an hour of brutal repetition.

"You learn quickly when properly motivated."

"Motivated by not wanting to be beaten with a stick, you mean."

"Motivation is motivation." The sword master’s scarred face almost smiled.

Then he turned and approached Selene.

"My Lady." He bowed his head, "Young master indeed shows promise." And began talking to her for some time about the further arrangements of their schedule.

After sword work came essence training with Master Aldrich, the silver-haired mage who seemed to take personal offense at inefficiency.

He put Alaric through exercises that left his head throbbing and his magical reserves feeling scraped raw.

"Your control is improving," Aldrich noted after Alaric successfully maintained three flame constructs for a full minute.

"Though you still waste energy on unnecessary flourishes."

"Unnecessary?"

"Combat magic values results over artistry. A simple fireball that hits is worth more than an elaborate flame dragon that misses."

Practical advice, delivered with the bluntness of someone who’d seen and fought in real battle.

Alaric adjusted his technique accordingly, focusing on precision over spectacle.

Through it all, Selene maintained her vigil.

Sometimes she offered corrections herself, adjustments to his stance that improved his balance, suggestions for essence flow that increased his efficiency.

Her knowledge was deeper than he’d expected, spanning both theoretical understanding and practical application.

"When did you learn all this?" he asked during a brief rest between exercises.

"Noble education covers many subjects." The deflection came automatically, but he caught how her fingers tightened on her journal.

By afternoon, they’d moved to the estate’s smaller library for what Selene called "practical applications." Maps covered every surface, trade routes, noble house territories, strategic resources.

She quizzed him relentlessly on political connections, testing his ability to see patterns and relationships.

"If House Blackmere allies with House Ravencrest against Thornfield shipping interests, what’s the likely response from the eastern trade confederation?"

Alaric studied the map, tracing connections with his finger. "Thornfield calls in favors from Houses Ashworth and Pemberton. They control enough dock space to strangle Blackmere’s grain exports."

"And then?"

"Blackmere backs down or finds alternative routes through..." He followed another line.

"Valtair territory. Which gives Viviane leverage over the entire conflict."

"Exactly."

The training intensified as the week progressed. Selene brought in additional tutors, a linguistics master to improve his formal speech, a dancing instructor to refine his court manners, even a musician to teach him the cultural references expected of educated nobility.

"I don’t need to play the lute," Alaric protested after a particularly frustrating lesson.

"You need to understand the references when others discuss music," Selene corrected. "Ignorance marks you as an outsider."

She’s trying to remake me completely? he realized.

Not just improving his skills, but transforming him into someone who could navigate noble society without raising questions about his background.

She’s definitely taking revenge.

During one afternoon session, while practicing sword forms under Korven’s critical eye, Alaric decided to test his new abilities he deliberately did the wrong move.

As the sword master moved to correct his stance, Alaric let a fraction of his Dominion’s Gaze slip through his normal expression.

Korven’s correction died mid-word.

The older man’s eyes flickered away, then back, then away again. His usual confidence wavered for just a moment before training reasserted itself.

"Your... your form is adequate for now," Korven said, his voice carrying a puzzled note. "We’ll continue tomorrow."

Interesting.

Even a seasoned professional felt the pressure, though he’d recovered quickly.

Alaric filed that information away, careful not to let his satisfaction show.

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Chapter End...

Yo guys. Welcome back, since this is the last day of the month and priv will reset tomorrow, I’ll like to say this again. I had changed the price for the priv Chapters as I promised to do for the inconsistency I had maintained previous month.