A knock on the door to his room shattered Lucius’s pensive state. He tried to ignore it, hoping its owner would lose interest. But the knock returned again and again, each time with increased ferocity.

  “By the gods, can’t you take a hint.” Lucius mumbled on his way to the door. With a turn of his wrist the lock clicked open and the door soon followed with a loud but slow creak.

  When Lucius raised his eyes to greet the uninvited guest, his anger quickly became fear. Elena’s face was twisted with rage, teeth gritted, ready to chew him out.

  “Lucius Ironside! You’re in big trouble young man.” Her voice took a stern tone, suppressing her rage to maintain composure.

  “After all your father does for this family—risking his life to provide you with a future—you can’t even show a modicum of respect at the dinner table?” Lucius gulped, knowing any form of response would trigger further outrage.

  How could he possibly explain his actions to his mother? Even if he told her the truth, she would only be further enraged to discover her son had been studying magic.

  Lucius could only sit in silence as his mother continued to berate him. “I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt up until now because you were so well behaved, but now I see I was mistaken. It’s about time you learn some proper manners before it is too late.” Elena grabbed his wrist painfully, dragging him out of his room.

  She led him to one of the many studies in the Ironside Manor. Sat at a table with a book in his hands was a man who looked to be somewhere in his mid 60s. His gray hair and wrinkled skin were a testament to his long life. Sat upon his face was a pair of bifocals and a mustache well groomed.

  Lucius had recognized the old man as the family’s head butler. He was a kind and wise soul as far as he could tell, but even Lucius knew that he didn’t earn such a title through complacency.

  The man rose to greet the two upon noticing their presence. He took to two feet and stood up straight as a pole. “Greetings Lady Ironside, Young Master, how may I be of service?”

  “Please be at ease Mr. Graham, I apologize for interrupting you in your study.” Elena spoke with a soft tone, showing respect to the elderly man.

  “You have done so much for this household that I hate to ask, but would you be so kind as to mentor Lucius for me?”

  “Of course Madam, you need not feel guilty when asking me to perform my duty. However, the Young Master is well read and has a fondness for learning, I’m not sure there’s anything I can teach him that he couldn’t learn faster by himself.”

  Lucius cracked a smile at the elder’s praise, drawing a glare from Elena. “I understand your concern, but this is something that can’t be learned from a book. I need you to teach the boy some manners.”

  “His behavior as of late has been— less than acceptable, and soon his status as a child will no longer be a valid excuse for his antics.” Elena was speaking to Mr. Graham, but her eyes were still glaring in Lucius’s direction.

  “Understood Madam, I will do what I can.” The man gave her a bow, and she left the room soon after.

  Lucius’s eyes were perusing the many bookshelves that lined the study’s walls when the butler spoke. “Sorry Young Master, but we will not be reading any books today.”

  Lucius let out a deep sigh of disappointment. “Let’s just get this over with.” He mumbled under his breath.

  “Oh my, it seems we must begin at the basics.” Mr. Graham clicked his tongue in disapproval.

  “A noble does not wear his emotions on his sleeve, nor does he mumble in the presence of others. We will start with your speech, then we can fix that horrendous posture of yours.” The man’s voice grew stern, abandoning any semblance of softness.

  The next few hours were what Lucius could only describe as torture. He was forced to keep his back straight like there was a pole shoved up his ass, His speech was strictly monitored, and he was forced to eat like the god damn queen of England.

  Every breath, step, bite was wrong. It was as if he had to re-learn how to live. It was far worse of an experience than he could have imagined. Before he knew it, the sun had already set and he was finally allowed to rest.

  Yet the torture was not over. Every day, for the next 3 months, he was forced to attend etiquette classes. He learned how to dance, eat, converse, and dress like a noble.

  By the end of it all, Lucius felt like a marionette. But little by little, he became versed in the mannerism of a noble.

  The instruction was time consuming for sure, but it was not like he had no time to himself. In his free time he continued to study magic and search for a way to enhance his mana modulation technique.

  However it wasn’t long till Lucius had found himself hitting a wall. He had learned every spell he could find in the Ironside library, though none of them exceeded the 3rd tier.

  He had also finally managed to obtain a 4th layer to his core. Despite constant accumulation, the process had taken longer than he had expected.

  Each layer seemed to require more mana than the last, and he had not been able to make any significant improvement to his accumulation technique.

  Yet even still, his progress was staggering in all fields except one: Mana Modulation. It was the only field of study that was truly his own. As a creation of his own, he could not rely on knowledge from others to answer the questions he had.

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  He had managed to streamline the process some, cutting the average turnover time by 10%. But that was all he could manage. Each improvement to the technique was progressively harder than the last and came with diminishing returns.

  He had also attempted to modify the frequency of the mana from within his core, yet it only seemed to result in a terrible pain which would send him sprawling on the ground.

  The pain had not scared him away from tampering with his core, but it made him realize that it was not a problem that could be solved with recklessness.

  It would take years of study for any scholar to make a breakthrough safely. The realization left a bitter taste in Lucius’s mouth, but time was an enemy not easily defeated.

  All was not bad news however. Though the process of modulation remained slower than Lucius would have liked, he could still modulate some mana in advance and simply hold onto it until he was ready to cast.

  The only downside to holding the mana in such a manner was that it would limit the rate at which mana could be drawn from his core. At first he had considered the focus required to perform the technique a weakness too, but with time it became like second nature.

  It was far from an ideal solution, but would suffice as long as he was not ambushed. And before he knew it, it was already his 10th birthday.

  It was also the day that his father promised he would begin his training as a swordsman. Lucius rolled out of bed like a dead fish.

  Although he was filled with excitement, one couldn’t tell just by looking at him. He was never a morning person. Taking all the strength he had to claw himself out of bed was a regular occurrence.

  He made his way to his wardrobe and threw some clothes together. He was relieved to have a good excuse not to wear a suit.

  When he had donned his attire, he headed down to the dining hall for breakfast. He was the last to arrive as usual, but this time he drew no glares from his mother.

  After the meal, his father made good on his promise and took the boy out to the family courtyard.

  Lucius had never spent much time with the man. As the head of a noble house, his father kept busy and seemed to spend most of his time away from home.

  “It’s been years since you’ve read the notes I gave you, hasn't it?” The old man spoke with a gruff voice.

  Lucius didn’t answer, his eyes darting around in embarrassment. Baron Ironside did not wait for a response however.

  “Let’s see what you remember.” From a rack that stood on the edge of the stone courtyard, he suddenly tossed a wooden sword in Lucius's direction.

  Caught off guard, Lucius fumbled to catch the sword, but eventually managed to get a hold of it. His father raised a sword of his own and placed his other hand behind his back.

  “If you can manage to land a hit on me or force me to use my other hand, you win. If not, then you will re-read those books. You have 10 minutes. Begin!”

  Lucius assumed a two handed stance, drawing upon his limited knowledge of sword forms. He waited for an attack, but Baron Ironside did not move.

  When it became evident that he was only wasting time, Lucius decided he had to make the first move.

  With a high guard and swift steps, he moved in to execute a vertical slash. But before he could even swing his sword, his father had jabbed his own into his stomach.

  Lucius reeled back in pain as the wind was knocked out of him, the blow sending him sprawling onto the ground.

  He lost his grip on his sword and it too fell unceremoniously to the ground. When he had managed to catch his breath, his father’s sword was already at his throat.

  “I see you have yet to learn anything from my writings. That's enough for today. We will not proceed until you read them properly. Master the foundational techniques, and then we will talk.”

  Baron Ironside turned to walk away when Lucius interrupted him. “Wait, just give me one more chance. I…”

  “Enough!” the Baron yelled. “Do you take me for a fool, boy?”

  “I will teach you the sword, but I won't have you wasting my time.”

  Lucius's eyes filled with shame and frustration. He had spent all his time and focus studying the other schools of combat, viewing swordsmanship as his birthright.

  Although Baron Ironside’s words stung at his pride, the truth of the matter was undeniable. It had been nearly 4 years since Lucius had read the texts. Yet he had not managed to learn a single technique from them.

  He had always used his young body as an excuse not to practice the physical techniques, but he had long since acquired enough mobility to perform them.

  For the first time since he had reincarnated into his new body, Lucius felt as immature as he looked.

  He had written off swordsmanship as the simplest of the schools, but in only a mere handful of seconds he had been dealt a rude awakening.

  Swordsmanship would be no easier to learn than spell-craft, and with one of the Kingdom’s top swordsman as his instructor, he knew the training would be harder than anything he had learned before.

  He had no combat experience from back on earth, so he had no idea what a real duel would feel like.

  When he had lunged with that vertical slash, time had slowed down as he watched his fathers sword plunge into his stomach. But even still, Lucius had not been able to do anything but flinch.

  As if a primal instinct took hold over his mind, he felt frozen in place. The experience however was not lost on him.

  Lucius realized that book smarts would not be enough to conquer the world of swordsmanship. For every swordsman there was a far stronger opponent than the one they stood across from.

  If he could not defeat the instincts inside him, no amount of sword theory would be useful. For even a Grand Master couldn’t win a chess match in which his pieces disobeyed him.

  When Lucius had escaped his thoughts, he found himself alone in the courtyard. A warm summer breeze blew over him as he sat in silence for a moment.

  He allowed himself to fall onto his back and lay on the cobblestone that made up the courtyard. He tilted his head to his right and stared at his fallen sword.

  It laid there in stillness, much like himself. And Lucius couldn’t help but envy the sword for but a moment.

  An object devoid of responsibilities, hardships, or anxiety. He wondered if such a life was possible.

  It was only a tool, yet it seemed so content with its own being. No matter how stupid the idea, Lucius couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the inanimate object.

  However if rest was for the dead, then work must be for the living. So with great reluctance, Lucius peeled himself off the stone floor which had begun to grow warm from his prolonged contact.

  He shuffled himself to his feet, and dragged the sword back to its rack. With a newfound second wind, he made his way back to the Ironside Library.

  His father had been clear, there was only one thing left to do: Re-read the texts.