A few moments later - In one of the royal gardens:

  In one of the gardens of the royal palace, the air was soft and fragrant, loaded with the quiet singing of the birds and the murmur of the marble fountains. The golden rays of the afternoon sun came to rest on the carefully trimmed hedges and the beds of bright flowers that adorned the alleys. In the midst of this calm, Queen Arianne stood under an elegant pavilion, sipping a cup of hot tea served in a fine porcelain cup. Her dark purple dress, decorated with silver embroidery representing ivy branches, was caressed by the light breeze. Her hair, elegantly styled, let a few strands fall along her calm face.

  Lucas and Arden advanced side by side in the paved alley that led to the pavilion. And the moment Lucas saw Arianne, he started running happily towards her.

  "Mother!" Lucas exclaimed as he ran towards her.

  Listening to Lucas' voice, Ariane turned her gaze, and saw them approaching. So, she gently put down her cup, then gave them a bright smile. Lucas ran to her, hugged her tightly, and snuggled into her arms.

  As for Arden, he stopped at the entrance of the pavilion, and bowed respectfully.

  "Your Majesty. "

  Arianne looked at him tenderly, then replied in a soft voice:

  "Make yourself comfortable Arden. You are part of the family... you must not act like a stranger in front of me. "

  At her words, a faint smile appeared on Arden's lips. Then he straightened up and replied politely:

  "Thank you for this courtesy... Aunt. "

  After his words, Arden approached, and settled on one of the chairs around the table where Arianne was sitting.

  Arden, who usually showed a confident face, seemed hesitant in front of the queen. He kept staring at her discreetly, before fixing the ground again.

  At that moment, Arden thought hesitantly:

  "Do I really have to ask him?"

  "Uncle told me I had to find the answer on my own… but he gave me no clues,' he thought, frustration on his face.

  Meanwhile, Arianne was having fun groping Lucas' cheeks, who was sitting on her lap.

  For a moment, she discreetly looked up, and noticed Arden's hesitant looks. She, who never lacked the subtleties of body language, tenderly asked this question:

  "You know Arden, you don't need to be tough in front of me... you can tell me the bottom of your thoughts without hesitation, and for my part, I will do everything I can to satisfy your curiosity. "

  Arden, surprised by Ariane's words, stared at her for a moment. He smiled slightly, then took a deep breath.

  "Aunt... I would like some advice from you," he said in a serious tone.

  Arianne signaled Lucas, telling him to get on a chair next to his.

  After that, she stared Arden straight in the eyes, intrigued by her nephew's serious tone.

  "Go ahead, I'm listening. "

  Arden inhaled deeply, his hands clenched on his knees.

  "I've been stuck at the QuaFtera stadium for almost a year, and despite all my efforts I can't open the doors of the next level. No matter how much I face barbarians in the north, or kill hundreds of monsters... I still can't open these doors. "

  "This morning, during my training with His Majesty, he opened my eyes to weaknesses that were unknown to me. I was so surprised that I wanted to know... have I already reached my limits?" He said, staring at the palm of his hand.

  "And if that's not the case… what can I do to finally break the chains holding me back?" He added while staring at Arianne's eyes, with a spark of determination in his.

  Arianne smiled slightly, and remained silent for a moment. She observed Arden, her eyes seeming to probe him in depth, as if she was trying to see beyond her words.

  "For you, what does it take to reach the next level?" She asked in a calm and measured tone.

  Arden looked at her with a slightly surprised look, and remained unanswered.

  Arianne stared at him for a moment, then thought:

  "What could they have done with their son's education?"

  Then Ariane sighed slightly, and added in a calm tone:

  "I don't know how the power of the Ingriss is supposed to evolve... but after so many years spent alongside Raphael I can give you an opinion from everything I have been able to observe during all these years. "

  "In your opinion, what do you need to reach the next level?" She asked in a serious tone.

  Arden, opened his mouth slightly, wanting to give an answer, but at the time of answering, no sound came out of his mouth.

  He remained frozen, not knowing what to say.

  Seeing this, Ariane calmly spoke again.

  "What do you need? "

  "Do you have to do an incessant quest for power, or do you have to let your wild nature take over? "

  "Do you have to give up everything that binds you to the world to become the perfect sword, or do you have to embrace human weakness, all those fragile emotions that give meaning to every battle?" Arianne asked in a calm tone, while gently sliding a finger on the edge of her cup.

  Arden felt his heart speed up at Ariane's words. The questions resounded in a loop in his head.

  "An incessant quest for power..." he thought.

  His gaze was for a moment, thinking of his father:

  "Father, is a great swordsman who wields his blade in an exceptional way, but he has never sacrificed the simple joys of life for the benefit of obsession. His smile, his bursts of laughter, all this proves that you can be strong without becoming a slave to power."

  "So, let my wild nature take over," he thought again.

  At that moment, his thoughts drifted towards his uncle Logan:

  "I heard that when Uncle Logan was still fighting, he had a wild fighting style. But no one has ever seen him unleashed on a battlefield. Today he is a completely different man from what the rumors say about him, but he remains a man with hidden power."

  "Abandon everything that binds me to become the perfect sword ? "

  This time, these thoughts turned to Raphael.

  "He Majesty is recognized as the most powerful swordsman of this generation. However, he never let an icy detachment appear to the world. On the contrary, he has a wife and children whom he cherishes with all his heart. Everyone on the continent knows that his family is his real source of his power."

  A shiver ran through Arden. He looked down slightly, his fingers tightening in spite of himself on the fabric of his pants. Each example, in its own way, seemed to embody a different answer to Arianne's questions, and yet no way seemed obvious to her.

  He frowned slightly. In this whirlwind of reflections, another figure imposed itself on him, the brutal and luminous one, who answered perfectly to all of Ariane's questions.

  His aunt Arya... a unique woman, impossible to compare to the others.

  Arianne, who watched him in silence, brought her cup to her lips. Seeing the glow of trouble pass through his eyes, a discreet smile appeared on his face.

  "You're thinking about Arya, aren't you?" She said softly.

  "Don't do it. Your aunt is a case apart. Her path belongs only to her, and if you try to imitate her, you will lose yours. "

  She set the cup down slowly, then fixed her gaze on Arden. His voice, firmer, resounded like a relentless truth:

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  "Listen to me carefully, Arden. The key to reaching the next level lies deep within you. True strength is not just about the sword, nor even brute force. You can train until your body breaks, perfect your techniques beyond imagination... but if your heart wavers, your blade will waver too. And then, no matter your power, you will be broken at the first shock."

  A heavy silence followed his words, and the breath of the wind made the leaves tremble around them.

  "His Majesty has highlighted your weaknesses?"

  "Then thank him," she replied, her eyes shining with a serene intensity.

  "Because a flawless man is a mirage. It is not the absence of defects that makes a great warrior, but the ability to transform his wounds into weapons. Remember this: the weaknesses you refuse to accept will always be chains. But those you assume will become your greatest strength. "

  Arden remained petrified, his lips parted without a word. Lucas, meanwhile, watched his mother with a mix of admiration and curiosity. He didn't understand her words, but they echoed in his heart like distant gongs.

  "You are a descendant of a prestigious lineage, Arden," Ariane continued in a softer voice, but still vibrant with strength.

  "But your blood will never be enough to trace your path. If you want to grow, don't just try to be strong. Try to understand who you are, and what strength must mean to you. The rest will follow. "

  A silence weighed a few seconds, only disturbed by the rustle of the wind in the foliage. Arden lowered his head, absorbing every word.

  Arianne was still watching him, her eyes shining with tenderness. But suddenly, as she carried her cup to her lips, a shadow passed over her face. She stopped, her fingers trembling, then quickly rested the container. A hand slid against his mouth, as if to hold back a painful breath.

  Lucas and Arden jumped up.

  "Mother?! Are you all right? " asked Lucas, his voice vibrating.

  "It's nothing..." she replied too quickly, sketching a fragile smile to hide her discomfort.

  "Just a little tired. "

  She tried to get up, but her movement lacked confidence. His graceful figure seemed to falter for a moment, and his hand pressed discreetly against his belly, as if to soothe an invisible pain.

  "Mother" Lucas repeated, ready to support her, but Arianne made a gentle gesture to stop her.

  "Don't worry. It doesn't matter," she said, her tone composed again despite the paleness of her face.

  She signaled to Jasmine, who was observing the scene from a distance, and the latter immediately rushed over to assist her. Arianne leaned slightly on her, but maintained her dignity, as if she refused to show the slightest weakness.

  "Forgive me," she said, turning to the two boys, her smile found badly masking the tension of her features.

  "I have some business to settle. Enjoy the garden. "

  Without giving them time to reply, she walked away slowly, supported by Jasmine. His step remained elegant despite the fragility that shone in each of his gestures. A delicate scent of flowers lingered in the air, a remnant of his presence.

  Lucas remained motionless, his eyebrows furrowed, his throat tightened by a concern that he could not express. Arden, on the other hand, remained silent, his thoughts still agitated.

  A few days later:

  With the sun at its peak at noon, its rays fully struck one of the training grounds of the royal estate, thus making its atmosphere warm.

  The heat made the air vibrate above the cobblestones, and sweat was already beading on Lucas's face. He was wearing a white shirt, stuck to his chest by the marks of his efforts, and dark blue pants perfectly tailored to his waist.

  Both hands gripped the hilt of his sword, and under Sir Aurelian's stern eye, he struck relentlessly at a wooden mannequin, each blow echoing his determination.

  "Your center of gravity, Your Highness," said Sir Aurelian's deep voice.

  "You always let the weight of your blade drag you. "

  Lucas grimaced, his arms trembling with fatigue, his legs threatened to give way. But he immediately firmed his posture, inhaled deeply and struck again. The shock made his whole body vibrate, but his eyes remained fixed right in front of him, flaming with an unwavering will.

  Again, and again. Despite the wicks stuck to his face by sweat, he continued. As if stopping meant something serious.

  Finally, Aurelian raised his hand.

  "It's okay. Stop."

  Lucas stopped sharply. He planted the tip of his sword in the ground to support himself and let himself fall to his knees, panting. His hoarse breath echoed in the heavy air. His fingers, tense to whiten, trembled on the guard of his weapon.

  So…" he breathed, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand.

  "Did I improve, Sir Aurelian? "

  The royal knight remained silent for a moment. His eyes, piercing and experienced, mentally ironed every gesture of Lucas. The mistakes were there, many, but that was not what held his attention.

  "Prince Lucas..." he has only been wielding a real sword for a few days, but he quickly corrects his flaws as soon as they are pointed out to him. Such adaptability is monstrous."

  Aurelian crossed his arms behind his back, then declared in a measured voice, although his eyes betrayed a contained pride:

  "You are progressing at a rate that is beyond comprehension, Your Highness. It's only been a year since I started training you, but you can already wield a real sword. It's absolutely remarkable... you are a worthy descendant of the mythical hero king Raiden."

  He paused, then his gaze fixed on the sword on which Lucas was leaning.

  "I understand better why the queen wanted to offer you this custom sword for your birthday. Maybe she had already perceived this potential in you. "

  Hearing that Lucas blushed slightly and answered calmly.

  "Thank you, Sir... but I still have to improve, if I ever want to catch up with my sister. "

  A silence weighed. In the distance, the screams of the soldiers in training resounded, carried by the warm wind. Aurelian narrowed his eyes slightly as he observed the young prince.

  "It seems that Her Highness is completely unaware of the extent of her talent. Even Her Highness Layna, as prodigious as she is, only started wielding a real sword at the age of ten."

  A discreet sigh escaped him. He then resumed, in a more composed voice:

  "Don't forget, Your Highness... everything in its time. "

  Then, as if to divert the conversation, he advanced slightly, and said calmly:

  "Besides... since the first prince will soon leave the capital, you could take advantage of this moment to breathe a little. "

  Lucas froze, his eyes wide open.

  "What? Dayvon... will leave? "

  Aurelian stared at Lucas with a surprised look after his question. He immediately felt that it was something he shouldn't say.

  So, looking away, he said:

  "I don't think it's my role to tell you more. We should rather get back to training."

  Lucas bit the inside of his cheek to contain his frustration. Then he clenched his fists again, straightened up and, in a fit of contained rage, raised his sword.

  The next strike split the air with fierce power. The wooden mannequin cracked under the impact, its arm flying off in pieces.

  A heavy silence followed, broken only by Lucas' short breath.