LIGHT NOVEL Chapter 3: Chapter 3: Family bonds
Chapter 3: Family bonds
Avalon Calendar, Year 102, Month of Harvest, Tenth Day
The palace courtyard of Arcadia buzzed with the innocent joy of childhood. Golden rays of the early autumn sun poured over the stone walls, softening their stern majesty. Young Prince Alaric, now four years old, stood in the middle of the training yard, gripping a wooden sword with both hands. Across from him, his elder brother Cedric, a lanky nine-year-old, wielded his own wooden blade with the practiced ease of a boy who had been training for years.
"Come on, Alaric," Cedric taunted, grinning mischievously as he stepped forward. "You can't beat me if you're always on the defensive."
"I'm not defensive!" Alaric retorted, his crimson eyes blazing with determination. He lunged forward, aiming for Cedric's side.
Cedric sidestepped effortlessly, his longer legs giving him an advantage. "Missed again! You're going to have to be faster than that."
Nearby, their younger sister, Princess Elira, sat on a small bench with her legs dangling over the edge. At just two years old, she was a bundle of uncontained energy, clapping her hands enthusiastically as she cheered for her brothers. "Go, Alaric! Hit him!"
Queen Celeste stood a short distance away under the shade of a maple tree, her long blue hair cascading over her shoulders. She watched her children with a serene expression, though her lips quirked with amusement at their antics. "Be careful, Cedric," she called out, her voice carrying the soft authority of a mother. "He's smaller than you."
"He's tougher than he looks, Mother," Cedric replied, flashing her a grin.
The momentary distraction was all Alaric needed. He charged forward, letting out a triumphant shout as he struck Cedric square in the ribs with the flat of his wooden sword.
"Ow!" Cedric exclaimed, staggering back and clutching his side. His face twisted in mock outrage. "That was cheap!"
Alaric puffed out his chest, his face flushed with victory. "It wasn't cheap! It was strategy!"
"Strategy, huh?" Cedric said, his grin returning as he reached out to ruffle Alaric's messy hair. "Fine, you win this time. But don't get cocky. Next time, I won't go easy on you."
Elira hopped off the bench and ran to Alaric, wrapping her small arms around his waist. "You did it! You're the best!"
Alaric patted her head awkwardly, still unused to her bursts of affection. "Thanks, Elira."
---
After the sparring match, the three siblings sat together in the courtyard, sipping cups of sweetened berry juice that one of the attendants had brought. The warm, fruity liquid cooled their heated cheeks and gave them a moment to catch their breath.
"Father says we'll start advanced drills next month," Cedric said, leaning back against the bench with an air of casual authority. "Think you'll be ready for that, little phoenix?"
Alaric nodded eagerly, his crimson eyes wide. "I'll practice every day! I'm going to be as strong as Sir Gareth."
Cedric smirked, wiping a stray drop of juice from his chin. "You'll need more than swordplay to be like Gareth. You'll need patience too."
Elira tilted her head, her golden curls catching the sunlight. "What's patience?"
"It's what Alaric doesn't have," Cedric teased, earning a scowl from his younger brother.
"Enough, Cedric," Queen Celeste interjected as she approached. Her voice was gentle but firm. "A king must possess both strength and wisdom. Alaric, your training is important, but so is your education. Have you finished the readings Master Orlan assigned you?"
Alaric hesitated, his gaze darting to the ground. "Not yet…"
Cedric burst into laughter. "See? No patience!"
Celeste shot her eldest son a look that silenced him instantly. "Alaric, remember, a leader who lacks knowledge is like a knight without a sword. You must sharpen your mind as well as your body."
Alaric nodded solemnly. "I'll finish the readings tonight, Mother. I promise."
"Good," Celeste said, her smile returning. She reached out to smooth his hair, her touch soft and reassuring.
---
Later that afternoon, the three siblings wandered through the palace gardens, a sprawling expanse of carefully tended flowers, winding paths, and ancient trees. The air was filled with the crisp scent of autumn leaves and the faint hum of insects.
Elira skipped ahead, her tiny feet crunching through the fallen leaves. She giggled as she tried to catch them in midair, her arms flailing wildly. "Look! I got one!" she squealed, holding up a golden leaf as if it were a trophy.
"Slow down, Elira!" Alaric called, jogging after her.
Cedric followed at a leisurely pace, his hands tucked behind his head. "You're going to wear yourself out chasing her," he said with a smirk.
"I'm not tired," Alaric replied, though his flushed cheeks betrayed his exertion.
Elira tripped on a loose stone and let out a startled yelp. Alaric lunged forward, catching her arm just in time to steady her.
"Careful," he said, his tone serious. "You could get hurt."
Elira looked up at him with wide, adoring eyes. "You're like a knight, Alaric! You saved me!"
"I'm your brother," Alaric replied with a smile. "It's my job to look out for you."
Cedric watched the exchange from a few paces away, a rare moment of pride softening his usual teasing demeanor. "You're going to make a good leader one day, Alaric," he said, his voice thoughtful. "Father would be proud."
Alaric beamed, his crimson eyes glowing with excitement. "Do you really think so?"
"I know so," Cedric said, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder.
---
As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting the gardens in hues of orange and gold, the children made their way back to the palace. The dining hall awaited them, its long table laden with roasted meats, fresh bread, and steaming bowls of soup.
King Eamon sat at the head of the table, his imposing presence softened by the warmth in his gaze. He listened attentively as Cedric recounted the day's events, though his eyes often strayed to Alaric, silently assessing his younger son.
"Tell me, Alaric," the king said, his deep voice carrying across the hall. "What did you learn today?"
Alaric straightened in his chair, eager to answer. "I learned how to land a strike when someone's distracted," he said, glancing at Cedric with a mischievous grin.
Cedric snorted into his goblet. "He means he hit me when I wasn't looking."
"It was strategy," Alaric insisted, drawing laughter from the table.
Eamon chuckled, his expression one of approval. "Strategy is as important as strength. Well done, my son."
Celeste leaned forward, her gaze tender. "And what else?"
Alaric hesitated, then added, "I also learned that I need to read more books."
The queen's laughter joined the others'. "A wise answer."
---
That night, as the castle settled into quiet, Alaric lay in bed, staring at the canopy above him. The day replayed in his mind—the sparring match, Elira's laughter, Cedric's praise, and his father's approving words.
Beyond the thick stone walls of Arcadia, the world was vast and filled with dangers he could scarcely imagine. But here, within the safety of the palace, he felt the beginnings of something stir within him. A purpose, a resolve.
One day, he would be more than just a prince. He would be a protector, a leader, and a symbol of hope for his kingdom. For now, he closed his eyes, letting the comforting sounds of the palace lull him to sleep. His dreams were filled with visions of a bright and boundless future, where the crimson phoenix of House Thorne rose high above the world.
(Continue...)