Shattered Sanity

(Meanwhile, Inside The White Castle, Riven’s POV)

With only a few days remaining until the scheduled Imperial hearing, Riven continued his daily training routine, pushing himself harder than ever before.

For him, the exhausting training sessions had become a means of coping with Mary’s death, as whenever he allowed his mind to wander, the haunting image of her lifeless body inevitably resurfaced.

’Must not let my thoughts wander...’

Riven reminded himself as he sparred against Ronan, the Chief Palace Guard, who had agreed to serve as his sparring partner for the day, offering him a rare opportunity to train against someone of such considerable skill.

”Your leg stance is too wide. It creates an imbalance and prevents you from stepping backward quickly enough.”

Ronan advised, before sweeping Riven’s legs out from underneath him with a swift movement of his wooden sword.

Crash!

Riven landed flat on his back, the impact knocking the air out of his lungs as he stared up at the clear sky.

”Again.”

Ronan instructed, watching as the young lord immediately scrambled back onto his feet and tightened his grip around his training halberd.

”Yes, Sir.”

Riven replied, adjusting his stance as instructed before advancing towards Ronan with considerably more caution than before.

[Lightning Steps]

He thrust his halberd towards the guard captain’s chest, only for Ronan to casually deflect the attack and step inside the weapon’s effective range.

”Better footwork, but you’re still committing too much weight to your attacks.”

Ronan remarked, striking Riven lightly across the ribs with his wooden sword before retreating several steps.

”If I were an enemy, that opening would have cost you your life.”

Riven nodded, suppressing a grimace as he adjusted his grip and reconsidered his approach.

’He’s right. I keep relying on the halberd’s reach and my considerable speed using lightning steps.

But I have no back-up plan once that is bypassed.’

He thought, recalling how easily Ronan had slipped through his defenses.

The next exchange lasted slightly longer, although the outcome remained largely unchanged.

Riven attempted a series of shorter thrusts, deliberately avoiding the wide movements that had exposed him earlier, but Ronan effortlessly parried each strike before striking his shoulder.

”You’re learning.”

Ronan acknowledged, watching Riven stagger backward.

”But you’re still looking at my weapon instead of my body. Watch my shoulders and hips. They’ll tell you where I’m moving before the sword ever does.”

”Understood.”

Riven replied, breathing heavily as he raised his halberd again.

For the next twenty minutes, the training ground echoed with the repeated sounds of wooden weapons colliding, interrupted occasionally by the dull thud of Riven hitting the ground.

Ronan had been deliberately restraining his strength throughout the session, although even with such an overwhelming advantage, he found himself increasingly impressed by the young lord’s attitude.

Having served House Dawnriver for decades, he had personally trained and sparred with all of Duke Drew’s previous sons.

And although each had possessed considerable talent, their personalities had made training them a rather unpleasant responsibility.

Some had complained whenever they lost, while others had blamed their weapons, the training conditions, or Ronan himself for their shortcomings.

Riven, however, was different.

He listened carefully whenever Ronan corrected him, made a genuine effort to apply the advice, and never once complained about being knocked down.

More importantly, he learned remarkably quickly.

A mistake that had cost him a defeat during one exchange was rarely repeated during the next, and although Ronan continued defeating him effortlessly, the young lord was steadily becoming more difficult to catch with the same techniques.

’His talent is impressive, but his attitude is even better.’

Ronan thought, observing how Riven adjusted his footing after another unsuccessful attack.

’If only the previous young lords had possessed even half this boy’s willingness to learn.’

”Again, my lord. This time, don’t attack until you’re certain you have an opening.”

Ronan instructed, raising his wooden sword into a relaxed defensive position.

Riven nodded and began circling him, carefully studying the older man’s movements while maintaining a reasonable distance between them.

For several seconds, neither moved to attack.

Then Ronan deliberately lowered his sword, leaving what appeared to be an opening near his left shoulder.

Riven noticed it immediately.

However, rather than lunging forward as he had during their earlier exchanges, he hesitated, recognizing that the opening seemed almost suspiciously convenient.

’He’s baiting me.’

Riven realized, tightening his grip around the halberd.

Instead of attacking the exposed shoulder, he suddenly shifted his weight and thrust towards Ronan’s right thigh.

The attack was considerably more intelligent than his previous attempts, and Ronan’s eyebrows rose slightly in appreciation.

However, unfortunately for him, intelligence alone could not overcome the enormous difference in their abilities.

Ronan twisted his body, avoided the thrust by a narrow margin, and struck the halberd’s shaft with enough force to knock it aside, as before Riven could recover, the guard captain stepped forward and delivered a controlled strike against his chest.

Thud!

Riven stumbled backward, lost his balance, and collapsed onto the training ground once again.

”That’s enough for today.”

Ronan declared, lowering his wooden sword as he approached the exhausted young lord.

Riven remained seated for a moment, breathing heavily as sweat trickled down his forehead.

’Not even close.’

He thought, staring at the dull metal halberd lying beside him.

’Even when I knew he was setting a trap, he still defeated me without any difficulty.’

Nevertheless, he had learned considerably more during this single session than he would have accomplished through several days of practicing alone.

”You did well, my lord.”

Ronan remarked, extending his hand towards Riven.

”Thank you, Sir.”

Riven replied, accepting the offered hand as Ronan pulled him back onto his feet.

”Your technique still requires considerable refinement, but you listen carefully, and more importantly, you don’t allow your pride to interfere with your progress.”

Ronan continued, offering him an approving smile.

”Keep that attitude, and you’ll become a formidable warrior someday.”

”I’ll do my best.”

Riven answered sincerely.

Ronan nodded, although just as Riven began gathering his training equipment, the guard captain appeared to remember something.

”Actually, my lord, there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

He began, lowering his voice slightly.

”Although, strictly speaking, I’m probably not supposed to.”

Riven raised an eyebrow, his curiosity immediately piqued.

”What is it?”

”Well, I know you’ve been worried about your future lately, especially considering how unlikely it is that you’ll be returning to the Imperial Academy.”

Ronan explained, glancing briefly around the training grounds before continuing.

”However, His Grace has already made alternative arrangements for your education.”

Riven froze.

”Alternative arrangements?”

He repeated, looking at Ronan with unmistakable interest.

”That’s right.”

Ronan replied, smiling at the young lord’s reaction.

”And believe me, my lord, what His Grace has arranged for you is considerably better than anything the Imperial Academy could have offered.”

He paused, allowing the suspense to build.

”Your future master is going to be one of the most legendary Ascendants of this generation. A man whom even I would think twice before facing in battle.”

Riven listened attentively.

”The Untameable Storm. The Thundering Tempest. The Lightning Dragon of the Eastern Heavens.”

Ronan announced proudly.

”First Elder Kremeth of the Heavenly Ascendancy Sect.”

Riven blinked.

’Kremeth?’

The name meant absolutely nothing to him.

Seeing the confusion written across the young lord’s face, Ronan burst into laughter.

”Hahaha! Ah, forgive me, my lord. I keep forgetting that you’re not particularly familiar with the legendary figures of our Empire.”

He remarked, shaking his head in amusement.

”But don’t worry. When you visit the library later, ask the librarian for a book called Popular Ascendants. Make sure you get this year’s edition.”

”Popular Ascendants?”

Riven repeated.

”Exactly. Read the section concerning First Elder Kremeth, and you’ll understand why I’m making such a fuss.”

Ronan replied enthusiastically.

”That man is widely regarded as the strongest Storm practitioner alive within the Valdrak Empire. His accomplishments are the stuff of legends, and countless talented disciples would sacrifice almost anything for an opportunity to receive his personal guidance.”

He placed a reassuring hand upon Riven’s shoulder.

”With someone like him as your master, I’m certain you’ll grow into a warrior worthy of carrying the Dawnriver name.”

Riven remained silent for a moment, processing everything he had just heard.

Only yesterday, he had been uncertain whether his future would involve imprisonment, exile, or something considerably worse.

And now, apparently, Duke Drew had arranged for him to study beneath one of the Empire’s most celebrated Ascendants.

’The strongest Storm practitioner in the Empire...’

Riven thought, feeling a spark of genuine excitement.

’Father shows his care for me once more. Even though he will not meet me personally.’

He thought, as a warm feeling spread through his chest.

”Thank you for telling me, Sir Ronan.”

Riven replied, bowing his head respectfully.

”I’ll visit the library immediately.”

He said, as Ronan could not help but chuckle at his attitude.

In the end Riven was still but a young child, and to see him so excited about his future master made Ronan feel warm in his heart.

’Yeah, the very suggestion that the young lord could be a mass murderer is absurd.

He has a pure heart.’

Ronan concluded, as he understood that the entire allegation against Riven was definitely baseless.