Chapter 147: Maven
Cedric did not stop at the outskirts of the training grounds. Instead, he continued leading Maverick deeper into the sprawling complex. As they advanced, the number of ordinary trainees gradually diminished until they eventually arrived at a far more secluded section of the grounds.
The atmosphere here was markedly different.
The youths gathered within this area carried themselves with an unmistakable air of distinction. Their movements were sharper, their stances more disciplined, and even the intensity with which they trained eclipsed that of the disciples occupying the outer arenas.
Every strike they delivered was deliberate, every step was measured, and every exchange reflected countless hours of relentless practice.
It did not take Maverick long to understand why and the answer lay in their appearance.
Unlike the majority of those training elsewhere, every youth present possessed the unmistakable hallmarks of House Valehart’s bloodline; golden hair and radiant golden eyes.
Admittedly, compared to Cedric and Maverick, whose features were exceptionally pronounced, the golden hues adorning their hair and irises appeared noticeably subtler, almost as though the purity of their lineage had gradually thinned over successive generations.
It was enough for Maverick to draw a conclusion; these were not members of the House’s principal lineage like himself and Cedric.
Rather, they belonged to the various branch families of House Valehart, descendants of distinguished Elders and collateral relatives whose blood still carried the legacy of the House, albeit less prominently.
At that moment, nearly a dozen youths occupied the expansive arena.
Some exchanged rapid sword strikes that rang crisply through the air. Others practiced intricate spear forms beneath the watchful gaze of a veteran instructor whose occasional corrections echoed across the grounds. A few had paired off into mock duels, testing one another’s footwork, reflexes, and combat instincts with remarkable fervor.
Each of them was so thoroughly engrossed in training that none noticed Cedric’s arrival. At least not immediately.
It was only when the young heir stepped fully onto the practice grounds that one of the youths finally caught sight of him.
"Oh, Cedric."
The voice belonged to a broad-shouldered young man who towered nearly a head above Cedric. He was shirtless, a wooden greatsword resting casually upon one shoulder while beads of sweat glistened across the well-defined muscles of his upper body. Every movement he made radiated raw physical strength.
Lowering the practice weapon onto the rack beside him, he strode toward the pair with an easy smile.
"What brings you here?" He asked. "I thought you didn’t have training today."
As the young man addressed Cedric, Maverick noticed something rather interesting.
Unlike everyone else they had encountered since arriving at Castle Valehart, this youth had addressed Cedric by his name instead of calling him "Young Lord."
It was a subtle distinction, yet an important one.
Perhaps it was a privilege afforded by their close relationship as members of the younger generation of the House. Or perhaps it reflected the familiarity that naturally developed after years of growing up and training together beneath the same roof.
Whatever the reason, it revealed that their relationship extended beyond mere formalities.
Only after speaking to Cedric did the youth’s gaze drift toward Maverick.
His brows knitted together ever so slightly as curiosity surfaced within his golden eyes.
"And who’s this?"
The confusion was understandable.
Although House Valehart had hosted a welcoming banquet the previous evening to celebrate the return of Goldric and Maverick, not every member of the family had attended. Some had been away on assignments, while others had remained occupied with cultivation or training.
Maven happened to be one of those absent. As a result, this was the first time he had ever laid eyes upon Maverick.
Hearing the question, Cedric smiled faintly before making the introductions.
"Oh, right." He gestured toward Maverick. "Maven, I’d like you to meet my cousin, Maverick."
Then he turned toward Maverick and introduced. "Maverick, this is Maven."
Maven looked Maverick up and down with unconcealed scrutiny before turning back to Cedric.
"Cedric, isn’t this that cousin of yours who spent most of his life in the Frozen North? I heard he just arrived yesterday."
Cedric nodded.
"That’s right. He’s the one. In fact, a banquet was thrown to honor their return. You should have been there."
"You mean there was a banquet last night and nobody told me about it?"
Maven looked genuinely flabbergasted upon hearing that. A moment later, his face twisted into one of profound regret.
"Aetherium, I can’t believe I missed it." He let out a defeated sigh before adding, "It was all Instructor Aegon’s fault. Yesterday’s training was so brutal that I couldn’t even make it back to my room without someone’s help."
Though his complaint sounded sincere, there was an unmistakable undertone of vindication in his voice, as though he were presenting an irrefutable defense for his absence.
Cedric merely smiled.
He knew Maven all too well.
The young man was an incorrigible enthusiast whenever parties were involved. Whether it was lavish banquets, fine wine, or exceptional food, Maven rarely missed an opportunity to indulge himself. Discovering that he had unknowingly missed such an occasion must have dealt him a considerable emotional blow, enough that he could scarcely conceal his frustration.
After venting his consternation, Maven finally regained his composure.
"So..." He asked."what brings you to the training grounds today? I thought you’d be busy handling House affairs and all that."
Cedric shrugged casually.
"Actually, I was supposed to be. But I promised Father I’d show Maverick around. It’s his first time back home in years, after all. Besides, I wanted to introduce him to everyone."
"Oh." Maven nodded in understanding. "That makes sense. If that’s the case, let me gather everyone."
He glanced toward the veteran instructor overseeing the training.
"You know how rigid Instructor Aegon is. I doubt he’d let anyone stop in the middle of training. But if I tell him you’re here, he might allow everyone a moment of respite."
Cedric smiled. "I’d appreciate that."
Then without another word, Maven jogged toward the group of trainees.
He first approached the veteran knight supervising the session and quietly exchanged a few words with him. As they spoke, Maven gestured toward Cedric, who acknowledged the instructor with a respectful nod.
The veteran returned the gesture before listening as Maven continued explaining the situation.
Meanwhile, as this unfolded, Maverick silently observed the youths scattered across the training grounds.
Most of them appeared to be around his own age, though a handful were clearly a year or two older. Their techniques were polished, their movements disciplined, and their coordination reflected years of systematic instruction.
Truthfully, he did not remember any of them.
Still, he was fairly certain that many had probably been among the children he had played with during his earliest years in House Valehart, long before he and his father had been sent to the Frozen North.
Time, however, had a way of erasing even the most familiar faces.
Maverick said nothing. Instead, he remained quietly where he stood beside Cedric, patiently waiting for the gathering to conclude and the inevitable introductions to begin...