I wasn't content just to learn. Little by little, I realized that there was something in me that wanted more. It wasn't enough to accumulate knowledge; I needed to apply it, to turn theory into practice. At first, it all began as a form of distraction. An attempt to dispel the thoughts that insisted on coming back whenever silence set in.
But this mental activity, this silent construction of discipline and curiosity, ended up becoming something much bigger. A new kind of passion - solid, concrete. It was as if I had finally found a balance between who I was and who I wanted to be.
I started training more with the castle guards. The first few mornings, we just ran. But soon I added weights strapped to my body. I could feel my legs burning, my arms giving way, but something in me smiled with every drop of sweat that fell to the stone floor.
The exercises progressed. Bars, push-ups, sit-ups, rope climbing. We used wooden tools, handmade by one of the castle carpenters. The smell of fresh resin on my hands became part of my routine. My days began to run at a faster pace, and I didn't mind. I wanted it.
After training, I would return to the library. And every time I walked in there, I felt a certain silent pride rise in my chest. I organized everything carefully. All three shelves were finally full, even if the books were still incomplete. They were copies, summaries and notes of everything I'd learned so far. There was everything - battle tactics, treatises on philosophy, historical records, even tragic novels about loves doomed from the start.
My fingers brushed across the spine of one of the books as Alfred entered.
"Young master." he said, with a polite bow.
"Good morning, Alfred." I replied, still looking at the books but offering him a brief smile.
"There's a lady in the inspection tower." he continued. "She asked to see you."
I turned my face slowly, curious. - Ma'am?
"Miss Joan." he replied, and I could see how his mouth twitched as he said the name, as if the sound was bitter.
For a moment, I was silent. Joan. A name that, in other times, would have made my heart beat faster. But now... all I felt was a strange calm, almost sad, almost relieved.
"Give her a gold coin and ask her to leave." I said, my voice firm. "Tell her it's to cover any remaining expenses — clothes, books, study time."
He nodded quickly, as if he had been waiting for this decision for a long time.
"As you wish, young master."
When he left, I felt as if a door had closed - not in the corridor, but inside me. Joan had taught me a lesson. Not the kind you write in a book or discuss in class. But one of those that you feel on your skin, that changes the way you look at the world.
I learned that not all love is made to last. And that sometimes letting go is the only way to maintain dignity - hers and mine.
I let out a long sigh, running my fingers over the aged leather spine. It was time to get ready for the next class. A new wave of learning, new faces, new challenges. And this time, I would be more ready.
I smiled to myself, in silence, and thought:
(Let the next lesson come.)
***
The next morning, I left the baron's house alone. My escorts followed me at a distance - almost invisible, like discreet shadows in the mist that still hung over the narrow streets. I wore a white linen shirt, a little loose around the shoulders, which was hidden under a brown leather vest that was already frayed at the edges. Dark pants and reinforced boots completed my simple disguise. At my waist, I carried only a dagger with a clean blade, no notches, no symbol of origin. No coat of arms pinned to my chest, no sign that I was anything other than a country boy, perhaps just another hired guard. And that's exactly what I wanted to look like.
Except, of course, for my appearance. My features didn't go unnoticed in that town - my skin, my hair, my eyes... everything about me denoted a different, unusual origin. But for the moment, it didn't seem to matter. And after a week, I began to breathe more easily. The tension in my shoulders eased. I felt more stable, less guarded, as if my presence had finally become irrelevant. Part of me found this silence strange, but another - more tired - part was grateful for it.
It was the start of a new school year, and the city was even more crowded than usual. Travelers, students, merchants... a constant stream of unfamiliar faces crossed the streets every day. Nobody paid any attention to me. I was just one of many.
When I returned to school to start my third year, I quickly noticed the change. No one came to tease me. No one looked down on me. I didn't exist for them. Without the weight of my name, without the burden of my status, I became invisible. And, to be honest, that brought me a certain relief. I never liked the way they looked at me before. Now, at last, I could walk down the corridors without carrying the shield of a surname. Being ignored had never seemed so liberating.
It was also at this time that my younger brothers started school. Maurice, my brother on my father's side, and Fiona, my half-sister, were still children - innocent, fragile, like birds that didn't yet know how to fly. My father, always cautious, ordered his servants to keep an eye on who came near them. He didn't trust anyone - not even me.
The truth is that I never had a bond with Maurice and Fiona. Maybe because I grew up isolated, like a shadow inside the house. Maybe because, somehow, they were afraid of me. I don't know. But every time I tried to get close, they moved away. They hid. They looked at me with that heavy silence that was more like guilt. That... that hurt. Even so, I found them adorable. Maurice with his curious way and Fiona with that smile she only reserved for older servants. I liked them. Even if the affection was one-sided.
At school, I stopped in front of the editorial desk, looking at the subjects open for us to choose from. I chose without haste, looking only for what seemed useful and safe. The subjects were a continuation of the second year. I ended up choosing Ancient Kertur, an ancient version of the local language. There were familiar traits in the language, yes, but the structure was much more rigid, formal - almost as if it demanded respect. It wasn't just an ancient language, it was the real language of the Dawn Empire. Studying it was like touching the past with my fingertips.
I also chose Higher Mathematics, even though I knew it would take me hours of dry thinking, and an advanced course in Botany, something that had always intrigued me, perhaps because of the way life grows silently, persistently. We studied for an average of six hours a day, taking up most of the afternoons. The Intermediate Circle buildings were finally free, as were the better-equipped study rooms. The environment was more demanding, but I liked it. I liked the routine. The order.
I avoided any subject that might reveal who I really was. Nothing related to the history of my house, nothing involving politics or nobility. Just technical knowledge. Only what would make me stronger. More prepared.
Over the last six months, my cultivation had stagnated almost completely. I trained, of course. Every day, alone. I honed the techniques, repeated the movements, breathed in the energy around me, trying to absorb the bare minimum. If there was progress, it was slight. But I realized something: I began to correct old flaws. Small imperfections in the way I captured and manipulated the Light of Life. It now flowed more efficiently, more obediently. Sometimes it's in periods of stagnation that we become more precise.
And that's all I wanted to focus on now: my studies and training. I didn't expect to make friends. And I certainly didn't expect any girls to come up and strike up a conversation. Even more so now that my identity was hidden. In the end, all those who approached me before were only interested in my title, my name.
Never me.