Regaleon: The Forgotten Knight

Breakfast ended on a pleasant note after that brief interlude.

The moment Maverick finished his meal, he was scarcely afforded the luxury of letting the food settle before Valdric urged Cedric to escort him to the training grounds.

If Maverick did not know any better, he might have assumed it was merely an excuse for his uncle to remove the younger generation from the presence of the elders so they could converse freely.

In fact, he could still recall Valdric’s parting words as they departed the dining hall; something about how the cousins needed time and space to bond meaningfully.

But Maverick doubted that explanation.

The subtle exchange of glances between Lady Seraphina and Cedric before they left had been far too deliberate to escape his notice. It lasted only a heartbeat, yet it was enough to convince him that this excursion served a purpose beyond simple familial bonding.

Regardless, that was how Maverick found himself standing before the colossal proving ground known as the Valehart Training Grounds.

Simply calling it a training ground did not do it justice. It was more akin to a martial citadel.

Occupying an enormous section of Castle Valehart’s eastern district, the training grounds stretched farther than the eye could comfortably follow.

Towering white-stone walls enclosed the entire complex, each engraved with ancient runes designed to withstand the tremendous forces generated during cultivation and martial practice. Numerous training arenas were arranged in concentric formations, each paved with reinforced obsidian capable of enduring countless impacts.

To one side stood rows upon rows of weapon racks displaying every conceivable armament; from longswords and scimitars to spears, bows, halberds, and massive war hammers. Beyond them lay sprawling archery ranges where targets stood at varying distances, while farther away enormous practice dummies crafted from enchanted ironwood bore the scars of thousands upon thousands of relentless strikes.

The rhythmic clash of steel echoed continuously through the air as dozens of young knights sparred beneath the vigilant supervision of veteran instructors.

Nearby, others sat cross-legged upon polished stone platforms, silently refining their Aether beneath the shade of towering ancient trees whose branches had witnessed generations of Valehart warriors.

Everywhere Maverick looked, discipline and relentless endeavor permeated the atmosphere.

This was not merely a place where people trained; it was a place where the future pillars of House Valehart were forged.

For several moments, Maverick simply stood there, silently taking in the awe-inspiring sight before him. It was not because he was unfamiliar with military encampments and rigorous martial training. Rather, it was because this place embodied a level of organization, refinement, and grandeur that even the Frozen North rarely possessed.

Honestly, the facilities were unquestionably first-rate, as expected of one of the Great Houses of Valoria.

Even compared to the military camps of the Frozen North, there was little to criticize. If anything, the difference lay solely in their purpose. While the Frozen North trained soldiers for survival, Castle Valehart trained nobles for excellence.

One forged warriors; the other cultivated prestige.

”Well?” Cedric’s voice suddenly sounded from behind him. ”Are you just going to stand there gawking?”

Though the young heir spoke calmly, he could not entirely conceal the undercurrent of pride woven into his tone. Clearly, Cedric took considerable satisfaction in the grandeur of his family’s training grounds.

Maverick withdrew his gaze from the magnificence of the sprawling complex before turning toward his cousin.

Cedric gestured ahead. ”Come on. There are a few people I’d like you to meet.”

Without another word, Maverick followed behind him.

As the two ventured deeper into the training grounds, more and more people began noticing their arrival. Or rather... They noticed Cedric first.

”Good morning, Young Lord!”

The greeting rose repeatedly from every direction, becoming a chorus that accompanied their every step. Whether seasoned knights or young trainees, everyone paused what they were doing before bowing respectfully toward the heir of House Valehart.

Cedric accepted their greetings with practiced composure. He acknowledged them only with the occasional nod, his expression never wavering from its calm dignity.

Only after greeting him did their attention gradually shift toward Maverick walking at his side. And before long, whispers began spreading throughout the grounds.

”Who’s that beside the Young Lord?” one trainee asked his companion, subtly pointing toward Maverick.

His companion shrugged before replying.

”No idea. But for someone to walk beside Young Lord Cedric, he must be someone important. Maybe a noble friend.”

”Not a friend.” A third trainee standing nearby suddenly joined the conversation. ”Look closely at him.”

The first two did exactly that and examined Maverick closely. They noticed his golden hair and eyes, traits that are unique only to members of House Valehart and that was when realization slowly dawned upon them.

”He’s from House Valehart. But I’ve never seen him around before,” the first trainee muttered. ”Is he another son of the Patriarch?”

The third trainee immediately shook his head. ”No, you fool.”

Lowering his voice, he continued,

”That’s Lord Goldric’s son. You know... the one who returned from the Frozen North yesterday.”

Both trainees raised their brows in surprise.

”Lord Goldric?” one of them exclaimed quietly. ”You mean the Patriarch’s younger brother who was stationed on the northern frontier? When did he return?”

”Yesterday,” the third trainee answered matter-of-factly. ”The House even held a banquet to welcome them home.”

He glanced toward Maverick once more before adding,

”Remember this. Whenever you see him, treat him with the same respect you show Young Lord Cedric.”

The other two nodded earnestly.

After a brief pause, one of them suddenly asked. ”Wait... What’s his name? We can’t keep calling him ’Young Lord,’ can we?”

”His name is Maverick.” The third trainee folded his arms. ”So it’s Young Lord Maverick.”

The three continued their animated discussion until a thunderous voice suddenly shattered the conversation.

”What exactly are you three doing standing around?”

A burly knight strode toward them, his gruff voice booming across the training grounds.

The three trainees stiffened instinctively.

”Get back to your training!”

”Yes, Instructor!”

Without another word, the trio scattered with remarkable alacrity, each hurrying back to their respective drills, not daring to linger for even a moment beneath their instructor’s stern gaze...