Shadows of Allegiance

A Lesson in Strength

The morning sun cast long shadows across the training field as Draco and the other recruits gathered for another day of drills. Ace, the towering master of the guard, was waiting for them, arms crossed, his amethyst eyes glinting with anticipation. The recruits had come to recognize that gleam—it usually meant a particularly grueling day.

"Listen up!" Ace's voice cut through the morning silence, commanding every recruit's attention. "Today's drills are not just about brute strength. I want to see control, precision. Any fool can swing a sword or throw a punch, but only those with discipline can master them."

He walked the line of recruits, stopping in front of Draco with a half-smile. "Some of you are getting better at this. Draco, I expect nothing less than your best today."

Draco straightened, meeting Ace's gaze with a silent nod. He felt the weight of Ace's expectations and knew he had no room for error.

The first set of drills focused on endurance and stamina, running back and forth across the field in full gear. Each lap was a test of will as much as strength, and Draco pushed himself to keep pace, his muscles burning with each step. By the time they completed the last lap, every recruit was drenched in sweat, their breaths labored but steady.

"Now, onto strength and control," Ace announced, gesturing to a set of weighted poles and practice swords arranged neatly on the ground.

Draco was paired with another recruit, a tall, broad-shouldered man named Corwin. Corwin had a good build and a competitive edge that spurred Draco on. The two of them lifted the weighted poles, moving through a series of carefully orchestrated forms. Each movement required focus, balance, and control, and Draco found himself absorbing the rhythm, the discipline of each step.

As the drills progressed, Ace moved among them, correcting stances, demonstrating techniques, his presence commanding and intense. When he reached Draco and Corwin, he observed them for a moment before stepping forward.

"Draco, you're holding back," Ace said, his voice low but firm. "If you're going to wield strength, do it with purpose."

Draco narrowed his eyes, adjusting his stance. Ace's words lingered in his mind, pushing him to be more decisive with each movement. He took the advice to heart, each swing of the pole sharper, each stance more deliberate. Soon, he felt himself slipping into a rhythm, the control and power of each movement coming naturally.

"Better," Ace muttered approvingly, moving on to the next pair.

The final drill of the day involved sparring. Ace partnered the recruits based on skill and temperament, ensuring each match would be challenging. Draco was paired with Corwin again, their match watched closely by Ace.

The two circled each other, their practice swords raised. Corwin moved first, his strike quick and forceful. Draco met the blow with steady precision, sidestepping and deflecting, letting the force slide away. They moved in a series of parries and lunges, each blow more intense than the last, the clang of wood on wood echoing across the field.

Draco's mind was sharp, focused entirely on the fight. Corwin was stronger, but Draco's movements were quick, calculating. He began to anticipate Corwin's strikes, evading and countering with growing ease. His control was steady, his focus unwavering.

After several rounds, Corwin let out a frustrated huff, and Draco seized the moment, sidestepping and sweeping his leg under Corwin's, sending him stumbling back. Draco's practice sword tapped against Corwin's side—just enough to signal his win.

Ace stepped forward, clapping slowly. "That's how it's done. Control, timing, and precision. Well done, Draco."

Draco allowed himself a brief nod, the rush of accomplishment warming him. He had proven himself, not just in skill but in discipline—the very qualities The House valued most.

As the recruits lined up, tired but exhilarated, Ace gave them all a hard look. "Remember today. Strength alone is never enough. Control is what separates the masters from the recruits."

When the session ended, Draco felt a quiet sense of pride as he returned to his quarters, the day's lessons still fresh in his mind. Each step he took brought him closer to mastering not just his strength, but his purpose within The House.

In his quarters that night, Draco sat by the window, looking out at the grounds, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The training was demanding, but he was proving himself, earning his place. The path ahead was still long, but he would meet it with strength—and with control.