By the time the sun began its slow climb toward midday, Raiden Goldheart had come to a grim realization.
He sucked with a sword.
"Again, young master. No, not like that. Your stance is collapsing. Reset."
Raiden had reset so many times he was convinced even the grass beneath him had memorized his footwork.
Meanwhile, a short distance away, Kent was elegance in motion.
Every strike he made echoed with precision and control. Every turn, every pivot, seemed deliberate.
Even Captain Baren nodded in approval as he parried Kent's attack with minimal effort, correcting his form here and there, but always with an approving tone that made Raiden want to throw his sword into the nearest pond.
Still, he didn't sulk. Not this time.
He'd already learned something about himself during these last few days: he didn't need to be the best.
He just needed to get better.
And if his brother was his measuring stick, then so be it.
