Kapitel 20: A New Life Part 2 - Alexius POV

Five years had passed since that fateful day I first set foot in the castle as a ten-year-old boy, and each day brought its own set of challenges and triumphs. I was no longer the frail, frightened boy who had stumbled into the halls of the royal palace. I had grown in strength, skill, and determination, but I was still on the journey to becoming a knight. My training was intense, and the expectations placed upon me were higher than ever.

The castle, once a place of awe and wonder, had become my home. The grand halls and stone corridors were familiar to me now, and I knew every nook and cranny of the sprawling estate. I had made a few friends among the servants and the other trainees, though I was always careful not to let my guard down completely. I had learned that trust was something that needed to be earned.

My mornings began early, often before the sun had even risen. Sir Cedric believed in the importance of discipline and routine, and he made sure that I understood the value of hard work. My day would start with physical training—running laps around the castle grounds, climbing the walls of the inner courtyard, and practising sword forms until my arms felt like they would fall off.

There were times when the exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me, but I pushed through, knowing that every drop of sweat brought me closer to my goal. Sir Cedric was always there, watching my progress, correcting my form, and pushing me to go beyond my limits.

"Again, Alexius!" he would shout, his voice ringing out across the training yard. "You need to be faster, stronger! You need to be ready for anything!"

I would grit my teeth, focus on the task at hand, and keep going. Each time I failed, I would get back up and try again. I had learned that failure was not something to be feared but something to be embraced as a part of the process. Every mistake was a lesson, every stumble a chance to grow.

As the weeks turned into months, and the months into years, I saw the results of my hard work. My body grew lean and strong, my reflexes sharp and quick. I was no longer just a boy trying to survive—I was becoming a warrior. But with every step forward, there were always those who sought to remind me of my place, those who looked down on me because of my origins. And believe me when I say that teenagers can be a real pain - especially when they are noble and knights-in-training.

The nobles in the court were the most vocal in their disdain. Though they would never say it to my face, I could feel their eyes on me. They saw me as an outsider, an interloper who didn't belong among the royal family. They couldn't see past the rags I had once worn, the dirt that had once clung to my skin. Nothing has changed. Being a kid and not achieving anything grand in those 5 years didn't make them change their opinion of me.

"He's not one of us," I overheard one of them say during a banquet, his voice dripping with scorn. "He's just a peasant boy who got lucky. He'll never be a true knight."

Those words stung, but I refused to let them show. I had heard worse before, and I knew that my worth wasn't determined by their opinions. Instead, I used their doubt as fuel, a fire that drove me to prove them wrong. I would show them that I was more than my past, that I was worthy of the name I had been given.

Yet, even as I faced these challenges, there was one thing that haunted me more than the disdain of the nobles—the memory of Or.

In the beginning, after I first arrived at the castle, I would speak often of him. I would tell Sir Cedric and my cousin Bea about my dragon friend, about the time we had shared and the bond we had formed. They listened, their expressions gentle and understanding, but as time passed, their responses began to change.

Sir Cedric, who had always been my mentor and guide, was the first to voice his doubts.

"Alexius," he said one evening after a particularly gruelling training session, "I know those days were difficult for you. The mind can create powerful images, especially when we're young and scared. It's not uncommon for children to imagine companions when they feel alone."

"But Or wasn't imagined!" I insisted, my voice tinged with desperation. "He was real, Sir Cedric. He saved me, and I—"

"I believe you, Alexius," Cedric interrupted gently, placing a hand on my shoulder. "But sometimes, our memories can play tricks on us. The mind can blur the line between reality and imagination, especially when it tries to protect us from pain."

His words unsettled me, planting a seed of doubt in my heart. I knew what I had seen, what I had felt—but what if Cedric was right? What if Or had been a creation of my lonely, frightened mind?

My cousin Beatrice, always so full of energy and life, echoed Cedric's sentiments.

"Alex, you were so young," she said one afternoon as we sat in the gardens, the sun warming our faces. "It's possible that Or was just a dream, a way for you to cope with everything that happened. But that doesn't make what you felt any less real."

Her words were meant to comfort me, but they only deepened my confusion. How could something that felt so real be just a figment of my imagination? And yet, the more I thought about it, the more the memories began to blur. Details that had once been so clear now seemed hazy, uncertain.

As time went on, the doubt grew. There were nights when I would lie awake, staring up at the ceiling, trying to remember every detail of Or's muzzle, his growls, the way he had looked at me with those golden eyes. But no matter how hard I tried, the memories seemed to slip through my fingers like sand.

I stopped speaking about Or after a while, not because I no longer believed, but because it was easier to keep those memories to myself. Every time I mentioned him, the looks I received in return—pitying, understanding, but always with that hint of doubt—cut deeper than any sword. I couldn't bear to see the concern in Cedric's eyes, or the gentle, almost patronizing smile on Bea's face.

So I locked those memories away, deep in my heart, where no one could touch them.

One day, during a particularly gruelling training session, Sir Cedric pulled me aside. His expression was serious, his eyes filled with a determination that mirrored my own.

"Alexius," he said, his voice low. "You've come far in your training, but there's something you need to understand. The path to knighthood isn't just about physical strength or skill with a sword. It's about your heart, your character. You need to know who you are, and what you stand for."

I frowned, not entirely sure what he meant.

"But I do know who I am," I replied, my brow furrowing. "I'm Alexius. I'm training to become a knight."

Sir Cedric shook his head.

"That's just a part of it. A knight isn't just a title or a role—it's a way of life. It means living with honour, with integrity. It means making decisions that align with your values, even when they're difficult. It means standing up for what's right, even when it's unpopular."

His words hit me harder than I could ever imagine. I realized then that I had been so focused on proving myself to others that I hadn't taken the time to truly understand what it meant to be a knight. I had thought that becoming strong, mastering the sword, and earning the respect of others would be enough. But Sir Cedric was telling me that there was more to it than that—much more.

That night, I lay in my bed, staring up at the ceiling as Sir Cedric's words echoed in my mind. Who was I, really? What did I stand for? What kind of knight did I want to be?

And somewhere in the back of my mind, a small voice whispered—was Or part of who I was, or just a figment of who I used to be?

The next morning, I approached Sir Cedric before our training began.

"I want to learn," I told him. "Not just how to fight, but how to be a knight in every sense of the word. Teach me how to live with honour... please."

Sir Cedric's eyes softened, and for the first time, I saw a hint of pride in his gaze.

"Very well, Alexius," he said. "But know that this will be the hardest part of your training. It's easy to learn how to wield a sword, but much harder to learn how to wield your heart."

And so, my training shifted. Sir Cedric began to teach me not just the art of combat, but the art of living as a knight. He taught me about honour, about duty, about the importance of keeping my word and standing up for the weak. He spoke of the responsibility that came with power, of the need to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

One of the first lessons he taught me was about mercy. We were sparring in the training yard when he suddenly stopped, lowering his sword.

"What would you do," he asked, "if you were faced with an enemy who was defeated, unarmed, and at your mercy?"

I hesitated, not sure what he was getting at.

"I would... I would finish them off," I said slowly. "To make sure they couldn't hurt anyone else."

Sir Cedric nodded as if expecting that answer.

"And what if that enemy was someone who had no choice? Someone who was forced into battle, who didn't want to fight?"

I frowned, struggling with the question.

"I... I don't know."

Sir Cedric sheathed his sword and walked over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Alexius, a true knight knows when to show mercy. Killing isn't always the answer. Sometimes, the greatest strength lies in sparing a life, in offering a hand instead of a blade. Mercy is not a weakness—it's a strength that many lack."

His words stayed with me long after the lesson was over. It was a difficult concept to grasp, especially after everything I had been through. But I understood that Sir Cedric was right. Being a knight wasn't just about defeating enemies—it was about making the right choices, even when they were hard.

As the years continued to pass, I faced more challenges, both in the training yard and in the court. The nobles didn't stop their whispers, but I had learned to tune them out. I focused on my training, on the lessons Sir Cedric taught me, and on becoming the knight I wanted to be.

There were moments of doubt, times when I wondered if I would ever truly belong in this world. And in those moments, I would think of Or—of the dragon I once believed was real. I wanted to believe that he was still out there, waiting for me as he had promised. But with each passing day, it became harder to hold on to that belief.

As the rational part of my mind tried to convince me that Or was nothing more than a dream, my heart ached with the loss. I missed him, missed the way he had looked at me with those golden eyes, missed the warmth of his presence. But no matter how much I wanted to hold on to that memory, the doubt that had been planted by Sir Cedric, by Beatrice, by everyone around me, grew stronger.

By the time I reached fifteen, I had come a long way. I was taller, stronger, and more confident. My skills with a sword had improved dramatically, and I could hold my own against even the most skilled of the trainees. But more importantly, I had grown in character. I understood now what it meant to be a knight, and I was determined to live up to that ideal.

But my journey wasn't over yet. I was close to completing my training, but I knew there were still tests ahead—both physical and emotional. The path to knighthood was a difficult one, and I had to be ready for whatever lay ahead. I was ready for whatever came next. Even if it meant letting go of the past I had once clung to so fiercely... Even if it meant letting my memories of Or vanish...

----AUTHOR'S NOTES----

MC: No! No no no no! You can't! Author, stop him! NO! *crying*

Author: ... And here I was sure you'd curse me... Don't worry, hey don't cry *pats on the head*

MC: Will he forget me? He can't! That's... that's too cruel!

Author: I know but it's how it is... you realise how unusual your friendship was... and you yourself too. And children's minds are so creative but they can also be mended easily. Don't blame him... ok?

MC: ... ok... I will blame YOU then! >.<

Author: ... yeah that's more like you xD

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