Chapter 2
A Duke's Expectations
The Valerius estate did not rise suddenly from the land.
It emerged from it.
Stone walls followed the natural contours of the hills, reinforced at key points rather than forced into symmetry. Towers were positioned for sightlines, not aesthetics. Training grounds occupied more space than gardens. Even the roads within the estate were laid with military efficiency wide enough for formations, smooth enough for armored transport.
Kael noticed these things as the carriage passed through the gates.
He always had.
This place was not built to impress.
It was built to endure.
The carriage slowed as it rolled along the inner road. Kael sat quietly across from his father, hands folded in his lap. The interior smelled faintly of leather and metal polish, the scent familiar and grounding.
Duke Alaric Valerius did not look at him.
Not yet.
He gazed out the window, eyes following the movement of soldiers drilling in the distance. Their shouts were muted by the carriage walls, but their rhythm was unmistakable.
Only when the carriage came to a full stop did the Duke speak.
"You didn't hesitate."
Kael looked up. "At the awakening?"
"At anything," the Duke replied. "The stone. The Spirit Master. The announcement."
Kael considered his words carefully.
"Hesitation wouldn't have changed the result."
The Duke turned then, studying his son's face.
"You're six years old," he said. "Most children your age would have been terrified."
Kael nodded. "I was aware of that."
"That wasn't an answer."
Kael's fingers tightened slightly against his trousers.
"I was nervous," he said truthfully. "But fear is only useful if it improves judgment. Mine didn't."
The Duke watched him in silence.
This silence felt different from the one in the village. There was no audience here. No ceremony. Only a father measuring the distance between expectation and reality.
The carriage door opened. A servant bowed deeply.
"Your Grace. The study is prepared."
The Duke stepped down first, then extended a hand.
Kael took it.
The Duke's grip was firm, warm, unmistakably real.
They walked through the corridors together. Servants and guards bowed as they passed, but no one spoke. This was not a public moment.
The Duke's study lay at the heart of the estate, shielded by thick walls and guarded entrances. Kael had been inside before but never like this.
Not as the subject.
The door closed behind them.
The study was lit by afternoon sun filtering through tall windows. Maps lined one wall some rolled, some pinned open. Shelves of books filled another, their spines worn from use. A large desk stood near the center, its surface clear except for a single folder and an inkstone.
The Duke removed his gloves and set them aside.
"Sit," he said.
Kael climbed onto the chair opposite the desk. His feet dangled just above the floor. He noticed. He did not mention it.
The Duke did not sit immediately.
He paced once around the desk, then stopped behind it.
"Level nine," he said quietly.
"Yes."
"Do you know how rare that is?"
Kael nodded. "Yes."
"Explain."
"In the empire, fewer than one in ten thousand awaken with innate soul power above level eight," Kael said. "Most of them are recorded, monitored, and recruited."
The Duke's eyes narrowed slightly.
"You've been reading restricted reports."
Kael hesitated. "I've been listening."
The Duke let out a short breath.
"Then you already understand," he said, "that from today onward, you are no longer just my son."
Kael met his gaze. "I understand."
"You are a resource," the Duke continued. "A potential asset. Something people will covet, test, and, if necessary, try to remove."
Kael's expression did not change.
Inside, his thoughts were calm.
Same world. Same rules.
"Does that frighten you?" the Duke asked.
"No."
"Why?"
Kael thought for a moment.
"Because it was already true before today," he said. "Today just made it visible."
The Duke stared at him.
Then he laughed.
Not loudly.
Not warmly.
But genuinely.
"You really are my son," he said.
He finally sat down.
"Your martial soul," the Duke said. "A knight."
"Yes."
"Not a weapon. Not armor. Not a mount."
"No."
"A role," the Duke said slowly. "That concerns me."
Kael looked up. "Why?"
"Because role-based martial souls demand judgment," the Duke said. "And judgment is the hardest thing to train."
Kael absorbed that.
"In the battlefield," the Duke continued, "a soldier who swings a sword only needs strength and timing. A knight must decide when not to swing."
Kael nodded.
"That fits."
The Duke raised an eyebrow. "How so?"
"A knight without restraint becomes a butcher," Kael said. "And butchers don't survive long."
Silence followed.
The Duke leaned back, folding his arms.
"You speak as if you've seen battle."
Kael chose his words carefully.
"I've read enough accounts," he said. "Patterns repeat."
That was true.
Just not the full truth.
The Duke let the matter drop.
"Your registration with the Spirit Hall will be handled privately," he said. "Your records will list your innate soul power as level eight."
Kael blinked.
"Eight?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
The Duke's gaze sharpened. "Because level nine draws attention. Level eight draws respect."
Kael considered that.
Then nodded.
"That is… efficient."
The Duke allowed himself a small, approving nod.
"You will not attend the village junior academy," he continued. "You will be educated here."
"I expected that."
"You will still follow the Douluo system," the Duke said. "Six years of foundational training before formal academy placement. No shortcuts."
"Yes."
"But," the Duke added, "your training will be… adjusted."
Kael waited.
"Your body is that of a child," the Duke said. "Your soul power is not. That imbalance is dangerous."
Kael understood immediately.
"Overloading," he said.
"Yes," the Duke replied. "Muscle tearing. Meridian strain. Growth damage."
Kael nodded.
"I won't rush."
The Duke studied him.
"I don't believe you," he said flatly.
Kael did not deny it.
"I will manage it," Kael said instead.
That earned him a long look.
"Then let's talk about management," the Duke said.
He opened the folder on the desk.
Inside were neatly written notes.
"Instructor Roland Thane," the Duke said. "Physical conditioning. Former border legion commander. Soul power level seventy-one."
Kael's eyes flicked to the name.
"Lady Mirelle Arkwright," the Duke continued. "Tactical theory, command logic, battlefield ethics."
"Ethics?" Kael repeated.
"Yes," the Duke said. "Power without boundaries creates monsters. I will not raise one."
Kael accepted that silently.
"Captain Jorvan Holt," the Duke said. "Soul power control and ring acquisition protocols."
Kael stiffened slightly.
"Soul rings?" he asked.
"Observation only," the Duke said. "For now."
"Yes."
The Duke closed the folder.
"You will train six days a week," he said. "One day for recovery."
Kael nodded.
"No weapons yet," the Duke added.
"I understand."
"Do you?" the Duke asked.
Kael hesitated.
Then nodded again.
"Yes."
The Duke leaned forward.
"One more thing," he said.
Kael straightened.
"You are strong," the Duke said. "Or will be. That means people will orbit you."
Kael listened.
"Some will admire you. Some will envy you. Some will want to use you."
Kael remained silent.
"When that happens," the Duke said, "do not isolate yourself completely."
Kael frowned slightly.
"Isolation creates blind spots," the Duke continued. "Even a knight needs companions."
Kael thought of future paths.
Of relationships.
Of choices he would one day have to make.
"I won't neglect it," he said honestly.
The Duke studied him, then nodded.
"That's all."
Kael slid down from the chair and bowed.
As he reached the door, the Duke spoke again.
"Kael."
He turned.
"You carry the Valerius name," the Duke said. "Not as a shield but as a responsibility."
Kael met his father's eyes.
"I know."
And he did.
Better than anyone else in the room.