Chapter 45: Quotas and the Ruins
Leo’s gaze shifted from the fireplace back to his daughter. The dancing flas reflected in his silver-gray eyes, and the rigid coldness usually on his face seed to have softened.
“I may have… given you the wrong impression all along,” he said slowly. “Or rather, I allowed a mistaken belief to take root in your mind.”
He leaned slightly forward, fingers interlaced on the desk. It was a relaxed posture, not one of confrontation.
“I praised your talent and encouraged you to pursue the pinnacle of swordsmanship because I truly saw potential in you—because I saw the brilliance of the Astrea bloodline shining through you. But perhaps it made you believe that talent naturally ant victory. That your path would always be smooth. That… you would never encounter an opponent who could truly leave you helpless.”
He let out a quiet sigh—an emotion rarely seen from him.
“That was my oversight. I treated you as if I were tempering elite soldiers in the army, and forgot that you are first and foremost my daughter—a young person still growing, soone who must experience setbacks to truly beco strong.”
Eleanor felt her nose sting slightly. Her father had never spoken to her in such a tone before.
“There is no one in this world who never fails, Eleanor,” Leo said firmly. “Great generals on the battlefield, legendary heroes in history—their paths to glory were paved with both victory and defeat. Failure itself is not frightening. What is frightening is allowing failure to define you, robbing you of the courage and direction to move forward.”
“When I told you to challenge Ryan Velt—to face defeat and then overco him—it was because I hoped you would draw strength from those setbacks. I wanted you to see your own shortcomings, temper a stronger mind and sharper ability.”
He looked directly into her eyes.
“I believed you had that potential, that spirit. My daughter would never truly be broken by one or two defeats.”
“But,” he continued, his tone turning serious, “that belief should never beco a chain around you. It is not a military order you must fulfill. It is not the sole task that defines your worth. You do not need to drive yourself into a corner just to prove sothing to —or to preserve so empty reputation as a ‘genius.’”
“What I truly wish to see is this: no matter how strong the opponent you face, no matter what adversity stands before you, you still possess the courage to draw your sword.”
“Not recklessly—but with clear understanding of yourself and your enemy, and still choosing to challenge, to break past your own limits.”
“Your sword should point toward higher mountains—not remain trapped in the mire of a single defeat, tornting yourself over and over again.”
“Father…” Eleanor’s voice trembled slightly. “I… I just don’t understand. Why… why does it feel like no matter how hard I try, I’m getting further and further behind him? My sword, in front of him, always seems…”
“Always seen through easily. Always deflected—or even turned against you?” Leo finished calmly.
A sharp glint flashed in his eyes.
“That is precisely what you should be thinking about, Eleanor. That boy walks a path different from yours. He may not possess your pure talent for the sword, but he has extraordinary combat intuition—and thods that stray from conventional paths.”
“Is that not the perfect opportunity for you to broaden your vision and examine your own approach?”
He paused briefly.
“Is your sword too bound by form and tradition? Is your magic–martial integration capable of more possibilities than you have considered?”
He offered no answers—only questions.
Eleanor fell silent in thought. Within her silver-gray eyes, the faint spark of contemplation reignited. It was still weak, but it was no longer empty.
“Enough of that for now,” Leo said at last. Seeing that her emotions had stabilized and her mind had begun working again, he shifted the conversation. His tone grew more formal.
“The matter between you and that boy can be set aside for the mont. There is sothing more important—sothing related to the family and to your future.”
Eleanor straightened in her chair imdiately, focusing.
“An ancient ruin has recently been discovered along the Empire’s frontier,” Leo explained concisely. “It has been nad the Starfall Ruins. The entrance carries a special restriction—only the younger generation may enter.”
“The royal family, major noble houses, academies, the Church, and other factions have each received a limited number of recomnded slots.”
“This will be a significant opportunity for training… and possibly great fortune. It will also carry considerable risk.”
He looked directly at her.
“The Astrea family’s slot—I have decided to give it to you.”
Eleanor’s breath caught. Her pupils contracted slightly.
She had not expected her father to entrust such an important opportunity to her—especially after the setback she had just suffered.
“This is not consolation,” Leo said calmly, reading her thoughts. “Nor is it a reward or punishnt for your recent performance. It is a decision based on my overall judgnt of your strength, potential, and character.”
“You need a stage like this. A chance to see a wider world and face real challenges—not rely academy duels.”
“It is also your opportunity to prove yourself and bring honor to the family.”
He paused, then added,
“Of course, that assus you have regained your composure—your original reason for holding the sword, and a calm mind.”
“There is still so ti before the official selection begins. You may remain here at the estate, or return to the academy. Prepare yourself with a fresh perspective.”
“Rember—your opponents this ti may co from every corner of the Empire. Their strength and thods will differ greatly.”
“What matters is not obsessing over victory or defeat against a single individual. What matters is how you achieve your objectives within a complex situation—and stand out.”
Eleanor took a deep breath.
The heavy gloom in her chest seed to leave with it, replaced by responsibility, tension… and a rekindled fighting spirit.
The shadow in her heart had not completely vanished, but her father’s understanding, his guidance, and the weight of the trust he had placed upon her ford a solid barrier against the flood of doubt. More importantly, it pointed her toward a new direction.
“I understand, Father.”
She rose to her feet. Her voice was still slightly hoarse, but a long-lost firmness had returned.
“I will adjust myself. I won’t disappoint you… and I won’t waste this opportunity.”
Leo looked at the renewed light gathering in his daughter’s eyes and nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Go and rest well. The specific arrangents will be explained to you tomorrow by the steward.”
Eleanor bowed and withdrew.
When she stepped out of the study, her pace was still sowhat heavy—but steadier than before.
The corridors of the ducal estate were deep in the night’s silence. The distant training grounds lay quiet.
Yet she knew that the next ti she held a sword, her state of mind would be completely different.
Inside the study, Leo Astrea once again turned his gaze toward the flickering fire in the hearth.
His fingers tapped lightly against the polished desk surface.
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