Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 2

That night, Leon dreamed of a story he had heard when he was a child. It was an old tale his mother told while he was curled up in her arms by the fireplace, but it was so long ago that he could not remember exactly when.

The rather cliché story followed a protagonist who was raised without knowledge of their birth family. Chosen by prophecy, they came to wield a goddess-bestowed sword, and embarked on a journey to vanquish evil. Along the way, they rescued a kidnapped princess, overcame ancient dungeons with loyal companions, and amassed a mountain of small but noble deeds. In the end, they reclaimed their true identity and defeated the wicked king delivering a happy ending that everyone had hoped for.

The young Leon said, “Mom, I have a question.”

For some reason, even at that young age, he couldn’t simply accept the story as it was. Why was the protagonist the only one who could defeat the evil king? Weren’t there other righteous knights or wizards? Why did the goddess give the sword to the protagonist alone? These questions were somewhat appropriate for a child his age to ask, but the last one came as a surprise.

“Was it because the protagonist was a member of the royal family, not a commoner?”

Leon’s mother was startled by such an unusual question from someone so young. After a moment of contemplation, she smiled wryly and answered, “Some things are just determined from the start.”

Leon hadn’t found that answer satisfying either, but he didn’t press further because his mother looked uncomfortable, and he didn’t want to trouble her. When he buried the question in his heart and fell asleep in his mother’s warm embrace, he never expected it to return to him over a decade later.

***

Leon muttered, “How long has it been since then...?”

He covered his face with his hands from the strange embarrassment of his childhood memory which had been tucked away for a long time. What kind of a kid asks questions like that after hearing a fairytale? Even to himself, he seemed like a pretty difficult child. Groaning over his childhood cringe for a brief moment, he sat up and looked outside.

Wow, I guess I slept in.

Judging by the sun high overhead, it was well past noon. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had slept in this late.

Leon’s daily routine always started before sunrise. He would run laps in the misty training ground, loosen up, swing his wooden sword until he was drenched in sweat, and watch the sun rise on the horizon. Maybe it was the laziness after so many years of relentless diligence that made him feel strangely guilty now.

Peering out the window, Leon finally remembered. Oh, was today a day off?

Holidays were rare at the academy, which prided itself on diligence and discipline. Yet, they hardly meant anything to Leon, who seldom left campus except for the occasional trip to town to buy medicine.

Other cadets, however, seemed excited by the rare break. The grounds were much more crowded than usual, making it nearly impossible to find a quiet place to concentrate.

Leon quickly decided to find a calmer place and began packing, only to realize there wasn’t much to pack anyway. All he could think of was a change of clothes, a towel, two wooden swords, and a waterskin. Slinging the small bag over his shoulder, he left the dorm.

Most cadets seemed to be heading toward the main gate, so he didn’t run into anyone on his way up the mountain behind the academy. It wasn’t a popular walking path, thanks to the rough terrain. Realistically, he was probably the only one who would think of coming here on a rare day off like this. Before long, Leon arrived at a clearing halfway up the slope, panting softly.

“I guess today’s the last time I’ll come here.”

The spacious clearing was a random discovery he had made back when he used to run up and down the mountain for endurance training. Since then, whenever he had trouble focusing, he came here to train.

How many times had he run here, thrown up out of overexertion, gathered himself, and then swung his sword? The marks left in the dirt stirred old memories. The worn-down ground, pressed flat by his footsteps, was proof of the relentless effort he had put in.

“Last day. I have to give it my all,” Leon muttered as if to steady himself.

He knew that there was no point in clinging to an impossible goal. His heart was burdened by that harsh reality, yet he resolved to keep the promise he made to himself—to try, just until today.

Gripping a wooden sword, Leon stepped into the center of the clearing. The skin of his left palm hadn’t fully healed yet, and it stung, but that pain was perfect for taking his mind off any lingering hesitation.

With a sharp gust of wind, the wooden sword sliced through the air in a flawless downward strike. The academy’s swordsmanship was, at its core, merely an application of fundamentals, never offering its cadets an opportunity to learn anything beyond that. Under such conditions, Leon had focused everything on honing his basics to perfection.

He would keep slicing through the air, a thousand times and over until every last trace of regret in his heart was gone.

***

That night, a small party was underway in the Royal Academy’s dormitory hall. The guest of honor was Lyon, celebrating his seventeenth birthday. Even cadets who would normally be fast asleep by now were busy eating and chatting.

Though Lyon was in the class designated for commoners, his origins were unclear. That, on top of his skills and graceful attitude, led even the noble cadets to gather around him in droves. Their intentions were obvious to anyone: to remain on his good side just in case he turned out to be of high class.

The nobles approached Lyon and greeted him one by one.

“Happy birthday, Lyon! Let’s keep getting along!”

“You’re the pride of the academy!”

“It’s not much, but I hope you’ll accept it.” 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

They came in all types. Some clung to him like they were close friends, others flattered him openly, and a few offered gifts as though they were making an investment. Lyon received them all with the same gentle smile as always. He eventually lost track of how many meaningless conversations he was repeating.

It wasn’t until the night was deep and quiet that Lyon finally dismissed the guests and made his way to a quiet corner of the hall, where Gilbert was enjoying a drink. Gilbert had served as his attendant since before entering the academy.

As soon as Lyon sat down beside him, Gilbert immediately flicked his fingers to cast a transparent sound barrier around them. What looked like magic was actually an application of Aura—a skill that allowed one to control the sound entering and leaving the barrier at will. Only warriors of considerable skill could use it, but Lyon, well aware of Gilbert’s true identity, wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

Looking calmly into his master’s face, Gilbert spoke with reverence. “Congratulations on your seventeenth birthday, Your Highness.”

It was a shocking statement, to say the least. What could he possibly have meant by “Your Highness”? Anyone else hearing it would’ve questioned their own ears, but Lyon only let out a long sigh and shook his head slightly.

“Please, Sir Gilbert. I’m not worthy of being called that right now.”

“Your Highness, noble blood shines brighter through trial,” Gilbert responded with a content smile. “There is but a year until the day foretold in the imperial prophecy. When Your Highness comes of age, our Empire shall witness the return of the Holy King Rodrick.”

“The Holy King Rodrick... You’re placing a lot of weight on that expectation, Sir Gilbert...” Lyon trailed off.

Holy King Rodrick was a legendary hero from over three hundred years ago. His accomplishments ranked among the top three in human history, with slaying the Demon King with the holy sword granted by the goddess just one part of his legacy.

Despite that outstanding feat, there was no hesitation in Gilbert’s eyes. He added, “Hoho. This old man has absolute faith in Your Highness’s potential. Even the ruthless usurper fears you will fulfill the prophecy, does he not? Take heart.”

“I guess we’ll know by next year,” Lyon said before closing his eyes for a moment, recalling the prophecy.

“The day the lion-named youth comes of age, the sword to destroy evil shall descend from the heavens.”

Lyon was a member of the imperial family of the Clyde Empire. He was forced to flee to the academy and disguise his identity with layers of deception because of this same prophecy.

If not for the prophecy, the current emperor—who had claimed the throne as a collateral branch—would never have attempted to have him killed in the first place.

Lyon was the only minor in the entire imperial family who was born with a name meaning “lion.” Upon reading the prophecy, the emperor had immediately sought to eliminate him.

How much had he lost crossing the border to hide in this academy? For the sake of those sacrifices, Lyon had no choice but to become a hero.

It was at that moment that someone called out to him, “Lyon!”

It was Chloe. Her voice pulled him out of his dark thoughts. The anger that had started to resurface with those somber memories vanished, and Lyon turned with his usual cheerful smile.

“Chloe? Something wrong?” he asked.

“No, nothing’s wrong, but....” Chloe glanced around before finally continuing, “You haven’t seen Leon, have you?”

“Nope.”

“They said no one saw him at the dorms either... I thought maybe he came to the party. Where could he have gone?” She sighed in resignation and turned to leave, likely planning to search again.

Watching her walk away, Gilbert spoke in a teasing tone, “Oh dear, it seems Your Highness has been bested.”

“Save the jokes,” Lyon said, chuckling and picking up the glass on the table. “Sir Gilbert, what do you think of those two?”

“You mean Chloe and Leon?”

Gilbert understood the question instantly, despite its vagueness. He answered, “Chloe is quite gifted. She’s already learning fourth-tier magic. By next year, she’ll be more than capable on her own.”

“And Leon?” Lyon asked.

“He’s... in an awkward spot.” The old knight’s voice carried a hint of regret. “His build is decent, and his talent with the sword is average at best. However, his determination and mentality are exceptional. If he were given proper swordsmanship training, cultivation techniques, and elixirs, he could very well have a breakthrough.”

“Do you think we can win him over?”

“It will be hard.” Gilbert’s answer was blunt and unwavering. “Your Highness, he doesn’t see you as someone to serve. He has never shown hostility, but once you reclaim your identity, it’ll be impossible to maintain your current relationship.”

“That’s why you never taught him the sword,” Lyon remarked.

“That’s right,” Gilbert answered briefly.

Lyon looked out the window with a slightly wistful expression. He had crossed swords with Leon for three years and had seen his potential. Leon wasn’t someone who would shine in the short term, but rather someone who, with time and care, could become a valuable asset. However, knowing the reason behind Leon’s dedication to training made it hard for Lyon to push his own agenda on him.

Lyon said, “See, that’s the real shame. If Chloe were an ordinary girl, it’d be one thing—but it’s too much of a loss to give up on Leon just for her.”

“I feel the same.”

The two exchanged bitter smiles. Being no fools, they knew why Leon kept his distance, and why he burned to beat Lyon. If it were just a matter of gain and loss, they could always negotiate a solution, but when feelings entered the picture, no amount of logic mattered.

Even so, Lyon wanted to win both of them over. He knew Leon was a prideful individual and had a strong sense of responsibility for his words and actions. He thought that perhaps he could use these morals to have Leon make a promise to him.

Had he grown attached to Leon over the past three years? Lyon wanted to take them both with him, if possible. He liked Leon in a way different from how he liked Chloe. Leon was the first person who had ever clashed with him without holding back, without pretense. Perhaps he thought of him as a friend—something he had never had as a royal.

“Hmm?” While gazing out the window, Lyon blinked and rubbed his eyes.

Noticing this, Gilbert asked with a curious look, “What is it, Your Highness?”

“No... I thought I saw something, but it must have been my imagination.” Lyon brushed it off, unable to explain what he’d just seen. If he told the truth, Gilbert would only make a big deal out of it.

It had happened in a literal blink of an eye. The night sky had suddenly turned gold. Then he blinked again, and everything was back to normal. It was the kind of thing that made one wonder if their eyes had just played tricks on them.

So Lyon dismissed it and moved on, unaware that this was the very moment in which his fate was altered.