"Report, my lord," Arad began, his deep voice filling the room. "Regarding the twenty-five knight recruits. Over the past two weeks, while you were recovering from your coma, I have pushed them to their absolute physical limits. We have focused on grueling stamina drills, the absolute basics of swordplay, and Special training for them to sense mana."
He paused, and his jaw tightened slightly. "I'll be honest with you. Not one of them has managed to awaken sword aura yet."
Fragha leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. Two weeks without me, and he was able to quickly train them.
"You did well, Arad," Fragha said, his tone measured but sincere.
A flicker of pride touched Arad's eyes, though he kept his posture rigidly straight. "It is my duty, my lord."
"But I want to change your training approach starting today." Fragha set down his quill and folded his hands together. "From now on, focus less on swordwork and more on physical conditioning, strict discipline, and marksmanship."
Arad blinked. For a moment he thought he'd misheard. "Marksmanship, my lord?"
"That's right."
"But—" Arad caught himself, then pressed on anyway, because this was too strange to let pass without question. "My lord, with respect, a knight's worth is measured by the blade in his hand. Sword aura, footwork, the courage to stand on a battlefield and hold the line. Why would you want them spending their hours learning to shoot instead of mastering the sword?"
Fragha studied him for a moment, weighing how much to explain. "Because sword aura takes years to awaken, even in a talented knight. Some never manage it at all, no matter how hard they train. I don't have years to spare, Arad, and neither does this village." He leaned back. "What I want is a weapon simple enough that any villager can pick it up and use it effectively within weeks. Not just the gifted few. Everyone. That's how we raise Constantia's overall combat strength quickly, instead of pinning our hopes on a handful of prodigies."
Arad said nothing for a moment, turning the idea over. It ran against everything he'd been taught to believe about what made a knight, but he had also learned, these past weeks, not to question Fragha's plans just because they sounded strange at first.
"I understand, my lord," he said finally. "Though might I ask you continue permitting the mana training as well? Even if it doesn't produce sword aura, it strengthens their bodies. I've seen the difference already."
Fragha nodded. "Keep the mana sense training. Just shift the priority."
"Understood." Arad bowed and stepped back toward the door, though the crease in his brow suggested he was still turning the strange new doctrine over in his mind.
Fragha's attention shifted toward the man seated near the window, quietly sorting through a stack of blueprints as though he'd been hoping not to be noticed. "Hans."
Hans Carter looked up, adjusting his spectacles. "Yes, my lord?"
"I need you to design a prototype. A weapon anyone can use, something that doesn't require years of bladework or a talent for magic. I'll guide you through the concept, but you're the one who has to make it real." Fragha's gaze settled on him with quiet certainty. "You spent years at Eldun's academy working the line between mechanics and mana theory. There's no one else in this village suited for it."
Hans set down his pen slowly, his expression caught somewhere between flattered and exhausted. He rubbed the back of his neck. "My lord, I would love nothing more than to bury myself in a new research project. Truly. But the village treasury is still empty. We haven't paid the villagers their wages in weeks, and now you want me dropping everything to chase a new invention?" He sighed, long and heavy, like a man resigning himself to his fate. "Though I suppose if you're asking, I don't really have room to refuse, do I?"
"You don't," Fragha said simply, but there was the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.
Before Hans could respond, Viktor stepped forward from where he'd been leaning against the wall, arms crossed. "Actually, my lord, I think I have a solution for the money problem."
Fragha raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
"We still have a good amount of obsidian left over from the Golem King's remains," Viktor said. "It's rare material, valuable enough that any trade guild would fight over it. I say we sell it." He glanced at Hans with a faint, knowing smile. "Hans and I already worked out the logistics this morning. Wagons, an escort route, everything. We just needed your word."
Fragha considered this only briefly before nodding. "Take it to the Trade Guild in Fortress City Morris. That should bring in more than enough to cover our expenses, with plenty left over."
"I'll head out today, then," Viktor said. "And I won't be traveling alone, either. Hana's coming with me."
Fragha's expression shifted, just slightly. "Her break from the academy is over?"
"That's right," Viktor said. "She has to return and finish her studies if she wants to graduate."
As if summoned by her own name, a soft knock came at the door. Hana Frieland stepped inside a moment later, dressed in the crisp, formal uniform of the Magic Academy, every fold pressed with careful precision. Fragha's gaze lingered on her a moment longer than usual, faintly impressed by how different she looked from the girl who usually wandered the village halls in patched robes.
"Thank you, Fragha," Hana said softly, forcing a brave, somewhat wobbly smile. "The convoy is nearly ready to depart, so I came to say my goodbyes. I hate to leave when there is still so much to do here, but I promise I won't be gone long. I will finish my studies, pass the final examinations, and return to Constantia."
Fragha looked at the young woman who had stood faithfully by the village through its darkest, bloodiest hours. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips, softening his usually stoic expression. She has grown so much in such a short time.
Fragha's expression softened into a faint, quiet smile. "Travel safely, Hana. This village has relied on you more than you probably realize. "
For a moment, something warm passed between them, the air in the study going still and a little too intimate for comfort.
Then Hans, from his corner, gave a loud, entirely unconvincing cough. "Uhuk!"
Fragha turned his flat gaze toward him without even bothering to hide his irritation. "Why is it you who suddenly sounds ill?"