Leon was sparring with Aren when his mother appeared at the edge of the training yard.
She didn't interrupt. She never did. But her presence changed the air, dropping the temperature by several degrees. Aren noticed first, his next strike coming slower as he glanced toward her.
"Focus," Leon said, deflecting the blade.
Aren grinned. "She's your problem, not mine."
They finished the set, then Aren headed to the weapons rack while Leon crossed to where his mother waited. She held a small wooden box in her hands.
"Walk with me," she said.
They moved through the gardens, frost clinging to the early spring flowers. His mother had always preferred the cold. She said it made her think clearly.
"You've been distant," she said after a moment.
Leon kept his expression neutral. "I've been training."
"You've always trained. This is different." She stopped beside a frozen fountain, the ice carved into intricate patterns by her magic. "Since the assassination attempt, you've pulled away. From me, from your father, even from Aren."
"I'm fine."
"I didn't ask if you were fine. I said you've been distant." His mother opened the wooden box. Inside were three small vials, each containing a different colored liquid. "Do you know what these are?"
Leon looked at them. "Poisons?"
"Antidotes." She lifted one, holding it to the light. "Wolfsbane, darkroot, nightshade. The three most common poisons used in assassination attempts. Starting tomorrow, you'll be learning how to identify them, counter them, and survive them."
"Survive them?"
"Small doses. Building immunity." His mother's voice was matter-of-fact. "I won't have you vulnerable to the same threat twice. Master Keiran will be your instructor. He served as a royal poisoner before retiring to our service."
Leon went still. "You're going to poison me."
"I'm going to teach you to survive it. There's a difference." She closed the box. "Your father disagrees. He thinks you're too young. But I'd rather you suffer controlled exposure now than die from an uncontrolled one later."
She looked at him with those calculating ice-blue eyes. "Someone tried to kill you, Leon. They failed because you were paying attention. But attention won't save you from everything. You need knowledge. You need resistance. You need to be harder to kill."
Leon nodded slowly. "When do we start?"
"Tomorrow at dawn. Master Keiran's workshop is in the east wing." She paused. "And Leon? Whatever you're keeping from me, whatever you learned at the Winter Ball, I'll figure it out eventually. I always do."
She left.
She knew he was hiding something. She just didn't know what yet.
---
Dinner that night was a formal affair.
The whole family gathered in the private dining hall, a rare occurrence. Usually Aren ate with the household knights, Elise with her tutors, and Leon wherever he could avoid conversation. But their father had insisted. Family dinner. No excuses.
Duke Aldric sat at the head of the table, his Frost Knight class evident in the way frost formed on his wine glass despite the room's warmth. Leon's mother sat opposite, perfectly composed. Aren was to Leon's right, and across from him sat Elise.
Leon's older sister was eighteen, tall and sharp-featured like their mother. She'd been pursuing her Ice Mage class for three years, and from what Leon had heard, she was close to earning it. Her ice magic was supposedly stronger than anyone in the family except their mother.
She was also terrifying in a completely different way than their mother. Where Duchess Neve was cold and calculating, Elise was cold and direct. She said exactly what she thought, political consequences be damned.
"So," Elise said, not bothering with pleasantries. "Someone tried to poison you."
Leon paused mid-bite. Their father sighed. Their mother's expression didn't change.
"Elise," Aren said. "Maybe not at dinner."
"Why not? We're all thinking about it." Elise looked at Leon. "How did you notice? The poison, I mean. What gave it away?"
"The server was sweating," Leon said. "And the cider looked wrong."
"Details. Good." Elise nodded approvingly. "Most people don't survive their first assassination attempt because they're too polite to question a server. You weren't. That's smart."
"That's paranoid," Aren corrected.
"Paranoid keeps you alive." Elise turned to their mother. "You're training him in poisons?"
"Master Keiran starts tomorrow."
"I want to observe."
Their mother raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because if someone's targeting Leon, they might target me next. Third and fourth in succession. Clean up the spares before going after the heir." Elise said it casually, like discussing the weather. "I'd like to know what I'm up against."
"No one's targeting you," Aren said.
"You don't know that."
"I know you're not important enough to assassinate."
Elise threw a piece of bread at him. Aren caught it, grinning.
Their father cleared his throat. "Enough. Both of you."
The table quieted. Duke Aldric set down his fork, his expression serious.
"The Captain's investigation has reached a dead end," he said. "The men who held Jeren's daughter are dead. The basement they rented was paid for in untraceable gold. We have no leads, no suspects, no evidence pointing to any particular house or faction."
"So we do nothing?" Elise asked.
"We stay vigilant. We increase security. And we make sure Leon is prepared for future attempts." The Duke looked at Leon. "Your mother tells me you've been training hard. Good. Keep it up. But don't let it consume you. You're thirteen. You should still be enjoying life, not living in fear."
Leon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. His father meant well. But he didn't understand. This wasn't about fear. This was about being ready.
"How's your ice magic progressing?" their mother asked, changing the subject.
"Slowly," Leon admitted. "I can hold Frost Edge through five strikes now. But it still breaks if I move too fast."
"That's better than I could do at your age," Aren said. "Took me until I was fifteen to maintain it consistently."
"You didn't have our bloodline strength," Elise pointed out. "Leon does. He should be progressing faster."
"Elise," their mother said quietly. A warning.
"What? It's true. Leon has more raw talent for ice magic than Aren did. He's just not pushing himself."
"I am pushing myself."
"Then push harder." Elise leaned forward. "You want to know why someone tried to kill you? Because you're a threat. Or you could be, if you actually applied yourself. Right now you're wasting potential."
Leon felt anger flash through him. "You don't know anything about what I'm doing."
"I know you spend more time with a sword than learning proper magic. I know you're neglecting the one advantage our bloodline gives us." Elise's voice was sharp. "Aren chose the sword because he had to. He's not as naturally gifted with ice. But you? You could be an Ice Mage if you wanted. Maybe even surpass Mother eventually. But instead you're playing at being a Swordsman."
"That's enough," their father said firmly.
Elise sat back, but her eyes stayed on Leon. Challenging.
Leon met her gaze. "I'm not neglecting anything. I'm learning both. That's the point."
"Learning both means mastering neither."
"It means being adaptable."
"It means being mediocre at two things instead of exceptional at one."
Their mother's hand touched the table. Ice spread from her fingers, creeping across the wood in intricate patterns. The temperature dropped sharply.
"Elise. Leon. Enough." Her voice could have frozen fire. "This family does not tear each other down. We have enough enemies without becoming our own."
The ice stopped spreading. The room slowly warmed.
Elise looked away first. "I apologize."
Leon said nothing. He understood what she was really saying. She thought he was wasting his gifts. Maybe she was even worried about him in her own harsh way. But she didn't understand. He couldn't just focus on ice magic or swordplay. He needed both. He needed every advantage he could get.
Because Damian Mordain was out there, training just as hard. And Leon refused to be unprepared when they eventually faced each other.
The rest of dinner passed in uncomfortable silence. When they were finally dismissed, Leon headed straight to his room. But Aren caught up with him in the hallway.
"Don't take it personally," Aren said. "Elise is like that with everyone."
"I know."
"She's not wrong though. You do have a gift for ice magic. More than I ever did." Aren leaned against the wall. "But she's also not right. There's nothing wrong with pursuing both paths. Father did it. I'm doing it. You can too."
"She thinks I'm wasting my potential."
"She thinks everyone is wasting their potential if they're not doing exactly what she would do." Aren smiled. "Ignore her. Focus on what you think is right. You're the one who has to live with your choices, not her."
Leon nodded. "Thanks."
"Also, Mother's right about you being distant. You've been different since the ball. Did something happen?"
Leon almost told him. Almost explained about House Mordain, about Damian, about everything he'd figured out. But the words stuck in his throat.
If he told Aren, Aren would tell their parents. And then it would become a political issue. Houses would take sides. There might be conflict, maybe even fighting.
Leon needed to handle this himself. At least for now.
"Just thinking about who wanted me dead," Leon said. It wasn't a lie.
"We'll figure it out. And when we do, they'll regret ever targeting a Neve." Aren clapped him on the shoulder and headed down the hall.
Leon continued to his room, his mind churning.
Tomorrow he'd start poison training. Learning to survive what killed most people. Building resistance, building knowledge, building strength.
He pulled out his journal and added a new entry under Damian's name.
*House Mordain specializes in shadow magic. Opposite of ice. Find weaknesses. Study shadow techniques. Know your enemy better than he knows himself.*
The words stared back at him in the candlelight.
He was thirteen years old.
He had a rival who wanted him dead.
He had a family who loved him but didn't understand.
He had secrets he couldn't share.
And he had a choice to make about who he wanted to become.
Elise thought he should focus on ice magic. Become an Ice Mage like their mother.
Aren thought he should do whatever felt right. Follow his own path.
Leon looked at his Status screen.
---
**[STATUS]**
**Name:** Leon Neve
**Age:** 13
**Class:** Swordsman
**Stats:**
- STR: D
- DEX: D
- END: E
- INT: C-
- WIS: D
- CHA: D
**Skills:**
- [Swordsmanship, Lv 6]
- [Tactical Analysis, Lv 2]
- [Ice Affinity, Lv 2] (Bloodline)
- [Neve Family Technique: Frost Edge, Lv 3]
- [Poison Awareness, Lv 1]
- [Political Awareness, Lv 1]
**Titles:**
- [Third Prince of House Neve]
- [Swordsman Initiate]
---
His stats were slowly climbing. His skills were improving. But was it enough?
Leon dismissed the screen and blew out his candle.
Tomorrow he'd learn to survive poison.
The day after, he'd train harder.
And someday, he'd be strong enough that no one would dare try to kill him again.
Not even Damian Mordain.