I was deep in thought, considering the implications of everything I'd read, when I heard footsteps approaching the library. Heavy footsteps. Deliberate and unhurried, the sound of someone who had no doubt about their right to go wherever they pleased.
I looked up just as the library door opened.
The man who entered was massive. Easily six and a half feet tall, with shoulders so broad he had to turn slightly sideways to fit through the doorframe comfortably. His physique was pure functional muscle, the kind that came from decades of relentless training and actual combat rather than purely aesthetic exercise. Every movement spoke of controlled power, of violence held in check by discipline and will.
He wore the armor of the Einsworth knights, but with additional markings that denoted rank. A captain's insignia on his shoulder, worked in gold thread. A blade at his hip that was clearly high quality, probably Rare-tier at minimum. My new Blade Sense skill activated automatically, confirming the assessment. The weapon radiated a subtle pressure even while sheathed.
His hair was blonde, cut short in a practical military style that required minimal maintenance. His eyes were blue and sharp, the eyes of a predator that missed nothing. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, old enough to have substantial experience but young enough to be in his physical prime.
And the pressure emanating from him made the Crimson Maws I'd fought feel like housecats in comparison.
This wasn't a Novice-ranked warrior. This was something far beyond that.
'Apprentice rank? Expert? I can't tell exactly, but he's way above me.'
The man's eyes found me sitting in the reading chair, surrounded by books, and something that might have been surprise flickered across his face before being suppressed.
"Young Master Kaine," he said, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to resonate in my chest. "I am Jack, captain of the Duke's personal guard."
He took several steps into the library, his boots clicking against the polished floor. He moved with the easy grace of someone completely comfortable in their own body, someone who'd spent so long training that every action was efficient and precise.
"The Duke has instructed me to oversee your combat training for the next month," Jack continued. "To prepare you for the academy and to ensure you don't embarrass the Einsworth name."
He stopped about ten feet away from me, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. His posture was relaxed, but I could sense the coiled potential there. Like a spring compressed and ready to release.
"We begin now," Jack said, and the simple statement carried the weight of absolute certainty. This wasn't a request or a suggestion. This was a fact of my immediate future.
I stood slowly, setting the book aside and facing this mountain of a man who radiated controlled violence with every breath.
'He's going to train me. This Expert-ranked warrior is going to personally oversee my development.'
The realization hit me with a mixture of excitement and terror. This was an incredible opportunity. Training under someone of Jack's caliber could accelerate my growth dramatically. But it also meant I was going to suffer. Warriors of his generation didn't believe in gentle instruction or gradual progress. They believed in trial by fire.
I looked at Jack, at the way he stood there radiating absolute confidence, and felt shock ripple through me.
'What have I gotten myself into?'