"Teach me!"
Roy blinked, visibly startled. In all his time serving as "Elyas'" ever-loyal bodyguard and occasional butler, he had never seen him like this. The sudden burst of energy, the wide-eyed urgency, it was almost... enthusiastic.
"I will, young master," Roy said after a pause, voice calm but uncertain. "But mastering my technique requires patience."
Claude internally groaned. Of course it does. Everything in this world needed "patience." He didn't have that luxury. Friday was right around the corner, and he needed to at least pretend like he wasn't some clueless impostor fumbling through Aether like a blind man juggling swords.
"At least teach me the basics!" he blurted out, practically bouncing. Or at least, pretending to. He had to look like a desperate student, not a fraud with an agenda.
"Okay, okay," Roy said with a faint smile. "But you have to know that we'll need to start from the ground up, so any technique you already have will be useless."
That line made Claude's soul sing. Useless? Good. He didn't have anything to lose. He didn't even have the illusion of prior skill.
"I don't mind!"
Roy's smile softened, and he stepped forward.
"Let's start right away then."
A few hours later...
Claude sat cross-legged on the soft grass behind the garden, the stone path behind him still warm from the afternoon sun. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming irises and distant magnolias, mingling with the earthy aroma of the soil beneath him. Behind him, Roy stood like a statue, watching with that eerie attentiveness that made Claude's skin crawl. Not that he'd admit that out loud.
His whole body was still. Calm. Breathing slow. He was in the middle of circulating Aether for the first time.
And gods, he could feel it.
It wasn't some vague warmth or spiritual nonsense. It was real. Like molten energy weaving through his veins. His soul felt like it had been plugged into a storm.
'How the hell did Elyas get captured?! If I had this kind of power, I could've bodied five grown men before breakfast.'
The confidence lasted all of two seconds before his whole body seized up. It felt like someone dropped a tree on him. Or maybe a building. A really fat building.
His vision spun, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he was going to black out right there on the lawn like a sack of flour in noble clothes.
Apparently, his frail little body wasn't used to having its veins pumped full of magical steroids. Who would've guessed?
Roy, still vigilant, stepped forward immediately.
"Young master!"
Claude could feel him approach, voice full of concern, footsteps fast but measured. But Claude wasn't about to give him an excuse to report anything suspicious to Howard. That would be the beginning of the end.
So, naturally, he opened his eyes and looked up as if absolutely nothing happened.
"Young master?" Roy repeated, this time with a puzzled frown.
Claude blinked at him with the blankest face he could manage. Roy didn't know it, but Claude had just instinctively discharged the excess Aether flooding his system. A completely unconscious act of self-preservation. No thought, no training, just reaction.
'Wait a second... did I just survive that because I'm actually talented and cool?'
Claude looked genuinely confused for a moment. Then a grin nearly cracked his face.
"Phew…" he said, rubbing the back of his neck like someone who just stood up too fast, not someone who nearly exploded from Aether overload.
Roy was still clearly processing what had just happened, looking at Claude like he'd just seen a cat walk upright and recite poetry.
"U-uh… I-I didn't use Aether for almost a month," Claude offered, stuttering and flustered in all the right places.
Complete and utter fiction. He'd never used Aether in his entire life. But to Roy? Sounded perfectly reasonable. At least, Claude hoped so.
"It's fine. As long as you are not hurt, young master."
With that settled, Claude resumed his Aether circulation. This time, he didn't go overboard. He let the power trickle through his body rather than flood it.
He focused on his arms first. His muscles tingled with energy, like coils being wound tight, ready to spring. He imagined himself punching through stone. Then he moved the focus to his legs. Strength surged through them like tightly coiled springs. He felt like he could leap over a carriage with ease.
Finally, he let the Aether spread evenly through his body, imagining it flowing like blood, invisible but constant. If he wanted to master Roy's technique, he had to circulate his Aether without anyone noticing. Subtlety was key.
He opened his eyes and stood up, his legs shaking slightly. For a brief second, it felt like the earth tilted beneath him. He nearly stumbled, but caught himself just in time. Graceful. Very noble.
He continued circulating his Aether while walking, but it was difficult. The strain on his brain was unreal. Like trying to read a book while juggling knives.
Sometimes he got dizzy, which felt less like magical overload and more like a brick fell on his head.
After a few more minutes of struggle, he finally decided to call it a day. At least for now.
But that didn't mean he was done. Not even close. He'd rest. Then go right back at it. Then rest again. Then grind until he could circulate Aether in his sleep if he had to.
He wanted results. Fast results. Failure wasn't on the menu.
"Let's go back," Claude said, turning and heading toward the estate, trying to look casual while keeping his insides from turning into magical soup.
Roy followed quietly behind.
On the way back, Claude tried circulating Aether again, but only managed to keep it going for a few minutes before stopping.
He needed more time. More training. He wanted it to be as instinctual as blinking, like a second heartbeat. Passive, constant, undetectable.
When they finally reached the estate, he spotted Howard and Lloyd in the distance, deep in some conversation that looked too important for anyone else to interrupt.
Claude didn't care.
He just kept walking toward his quarters, ignoring them completely. Let them talk. He had bigger problems.
Namely, Sylvia.
The Duchess's daughter.
That girl was still a massive unknown. A wild card he hadn't figured out yet. And if there was one thing Claude absolutely hated, it was not knowing something.
'She's dangerous. And I don't like dangerous things I can't predict. Hopefully she doesn't show up this Friday. I don't feel like dying at a party.'