Andrellia

15. Leon

Leon watched the Queen's carriage disappear, a bitter taste settling on his tongue. The Academy, a dream that had danced just out of reach for so long, seemed even more distant now. Disappointment threatened to engulf him, but before he could wallow, Alexander's voice crackled within his mind, a storm cloud of impatience brewing.

"Disappointment is a luxury you can't afford, young Leon!" the legendary warrior boomed. "The whispers on the wind didn't carry you this far for a pity party!"

Leon flinched, guilt stinging him. Alexander was right. Here he was, chosen by a legend, entrusted with a secret that hummed with power, and yet he moped about a missed opportunity.

"Snap out of it, lad!" Alexander's voice sharpened like a whetted blade. "The Queen's curiosity is sparked. That's the key. But suspicion hangs thick in the air, a shroud around your potential. You need to be a whirlwind on deck, faster, sharper, a storm that leaves enemies breathless!"

Shame burned hot in Leon's cheeks. He couldn't afford to disappoint, not to himself, not to the fallen crew, and certainly not to the legendary warrior who had chosen him. He straightened, his gaze hardening with newfound resolve. The groan of the "Star of Andrellia" wasn't a death knell, it was a battle cry. Every creak of the timbers, every tear in the sails, echoed the fight, and his own resilience.

"We have work to do, Alexander," Leon declared, his voice ringing with newfound determination. "This ship will be seaworthy again, stronger than before. And while we mend it, we'll train. We'll hone my skills until they're as sharp as your legendary command."

A grudging respect echoed in Alexander's voice. "That's the spirit, lad! Remember, the Academy may not be your immediate future, but greatness has many paths. We'll forge our own destiny, one swing of the sword, one flawless maneuver at a time. Let them underestimate you, let them scoff at a deckhand. We'll show them the true potential that lies within!"

Fueled by a fiery resolve and guided by the wisdom of a legend, Leon tackled his tasks with renewed fervor. The repairs weren't just repairs, they were training exercises. Every swing of the hammer, every knot he tied, was a step towards mastery. These last few days may have brought uncertainty, but they had also revealed a truth Leon was more than a deckhand. He was a warrior in the making, and his journey had just begun.

With each labored breath, Alexander pushed him further. "Harder, lad! Feel those muscles burn! Fire in the belly, that's what makes a fighter! Don't let the pain win, control it, channel it into your movements!" Leon gritted his teeth, sweat stinging his eyes, but he pushed himself, fueled by the image of Clausewitz's skeptical sneer and the Queen's discerning gaze.

As the day wore on, Leon's movements became smoother, more precise. He felt a connection to the ship, a newfound understanding of its rhythm. He wasn't just repairing the "Star of Andrellia," he was becoming a part of it, an extension of its strength.

By early afternoon exhaustion gnawed at Leon's bones, but a deep sense of satisfaction replaced his initial disappointment. He had pushed himself, and with each burning muscle, he felt closer to achieving his potential.



The "Star of Andrellia" gleamed under the afternoon sun, a stark contrast to the turmoil in Leon's heart. Repairs neared completion, and a bittersweet feeling settled in his stomach. He yearned to test his newfound skills at sea, but an unexpected visit home loomed before their departure.

With a heavy heart, he secured his meager belongings in his worn leather satchel. Alexander's voice, usually a constant presence, remained silent this time. Perhaps the legendary warrior understood the pull of family. Bidding farewell to Captain Nikos he set off for the familiar streets.