Riven spent the rest of his day throwing punches, trying to get the skill to level up more. Sadly, despite that, he only managed to get to level 4.
[Fist fight lv4: increases all fist-based attacks by 20%]
His knuckles were sore, and his arm ached. He had been doing this for hours, only stopping to rest at short intervals.
The sun had already gone down, and the light blue moon cast its cool glow over the world. Riven looked outside; it looked peaceful and quiet, beautiful.
A small flame lamp on the wall of his room served as his only source of illumination, with a warm and soft glow. This world had better means of illumination, but they were pretty expensive, even for a baron.
He grabbed his mattress, about to return it to the frame, when a knock came from his door. In a haste, he moved the mattress and placed it into the frame before dashing to the door.
He opened the door, and there was a maid. She bowed her head immediately when she saw him and spoke, "Your father requested that you come for dinner," the maid said.
"Oh, thank you. I'll be out now," Riven said. The maid looked up, her gaze stayed on him, confused—did he just thank her?
She didn't let it linger in her mind for long. She turned and walked down the hallway, her feet echoing through the halls as the flame lamps on the walls cast disturbed shadows of her.
Riven walked outside. He shut the door behind him and headed for the dining room. He got there and noticed everyone was already eating. He walked to his chair, his footsteps echoing inside the dining room.
Like in the morning, he walked to his father and greeted him and walked to his mother as well.
He took his seat carefully. He tried to portray his best etiquette as he ate, not wanting to seem out of place. He could tell that their gazes lingered on him for far longer than normal, but he didn't say anything, he just ate.
He had been the last to come, yet the first to leave. He cleaned out his plate without saying and stood to his feet. "Thank you for the meal," he said in appreciation and walked out of the dining room.
They watched him leave with different expressions on their faces, but mostly confusion. Riven didn't mind though. He walked through the empty hallway, the lamps casting shaky shadows of him.
His mind wandered off to how he would actually start adventuring tomorrow. He wanted to do all that he could to get ready. Then an idea dropped in his head. Rather than return to his room, he rushed to the back door of the manor and went outside.
The cool breeze of the night flowed over his body. He felt it like a shock flowing through him. He took in a deep breath, the smell of distant rain filled his nose, hinting at a change of season.
There was a building next to the stable at the back compound, built with wood like a barn—that was the training grounds.
Riven walked toward the building, using the dim lights that came from the lamps set at certain areas around.
He pushed the door of the training room open and walked in. The lamps along the wall were still turned on, illuminating the entire place.
The training ground was an entirely empty space. The ground was made of fine soil, neatly arranged. There were racks and racks of different weapons used for training along the wall.
Without hesitation, Riven walked toward the most common of weapons, the sword. It was a cliché and overly used weapon in all stories, but who could help it? It was the easiest to learn, and that was exactly what Riven needed now.
He pulled out a simple steel sword, holding it up before his face. Stains, dirt, and rust showed on it, hinting at a lack of maintenance, but that didn't matter to him. That was not why he was here.
The sword bent a bit, but not enough to stop him from swinging it around, especially when he had gotten a bit stronger today.
He walked to the center of the training ground and then immediately started swinging downward. The sword whistled through the air. Riven grunted with every slash, his injured arm stung, but he refused to stop.
Several minutes into it, but unlike the punching, he wasn't getting anything. He continued, refusing to back down and believing he would soon get something.
"Your stance is all wrong, kid. You are destroying your chances of getting better with that stance."
Riven turned immediately when he heard that voice. His eyes locked in on a young man with beautiful white hair and a casual dress-up.
Riven had no idea who this person was. He was a little bit unsure of what to do, his eyes darted around, trying to secure a way out.
The man noticed Riven's apprehension and chuckled. "There's no need to be scared, Riven. I'm one of your father's knights. I know about you already.
And because I know about you, it surprises me that you are here at night swinging a blade. But I can tell you are serious with it, for the fact that you are doing it with an injury as well," the man said, his eyes glancing at Riven's arm.
Riven looked at his arm as well—blood was soaking through the cloth.
"My name is Liam. I've been a knight here for three years," Liam said with a slight bow. Riven immediately returned the bow. Liam's lips curled up when he saw Riven bow.
"Aren't you supposed to be a mini tyrant? You seem so respectful," Liam said.
Riven let out a chuckle and didn't give Liam an answer. Liam walked to Riven and placed both hands on Riven's shoulders.
"Spread your legs, sort of shoulder width, with your main leg at the back slightly and your secondary leg in front. Angle your toes inward a bit."