Page 9 of Lord of the Lone Wolf (Bonded Hearts #3)
Jaega
T he training hall was vast and imposing, its vaulted ceilings disappearing into the shadows high above, while weapon racks lined the stone walls.
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting geometric patterns of light and shadow across the polished wooden floors.
The air carried the familiar scents of leather, steel, and sweat, a testament to countless hours of dedicated practice and warrior discipline.
Jaega had reservations about Nasume’s son joining their ranks, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity to test Maseo. “Earlier, you mentioned you have previous training with weaponry.”
Maseo nodded as he stood in the center of the enormous practice hall, his eyes scanning the impressive array of weapons adorning every wall. “I’m best with swords, daggers, and battle-axes, but I’ve trained with every weapon on that wall, along with some more obscure ones and martial arts.”
The breadth of his training impressed Jaega, though he kept his expression neutral. Most soldiers specialized in one or two weapon types at most. Such skill showed either exceptional dedication or necessity.
“Interesting.” Jaega stroked his chin as he studied Maseo with growing curiosity. “Is that standard in your military, or does it stem from a personal interest?”
Maseo’s expression darkened, and something bitter flickered in his green eyes. “People trying to win favor with my father often attacked me, so Valdrion made sure I knew how to fight back with any weapon at my disposal.”
The casual way Maseo spoke of being assaulted horrified Jaega. What kind of environment had the young lad grown up in, where violence from supposed allies was so common?
“Valdrion Falaris?” Jaega’s eyebrows arched in surprise, both at the familiar name and at Kitsuki’s inability to suppress his dragon’s angry growl echoing through the hall. The sound was low and menacing, filled with a protective fury that made the very air seem to vibrate.
Maseo nodded, unperturbed by the display of aggression. “Yes, sir. He’s a commander in my father’s army, although he should be head general. But my father refuses to promote him beyond the rank of captain because he feels threatened by Valdrion’s respect among the other soldiers.”
Jaega shook his head, saddened by the waste of such talent. “It is a pity that such an honorable warrior must serve under your father’s command. It is probably for the best that he is not a general. He would put his life in great danger by refusing to commit Nasume’s atrocities.”
Maseo blinked in surprise. “You know Valdrion?”
“We became acquainted during the Necromancer War when the Ariake clan fought alongside the Venrik pack your grandfather ruled,” Jaega explained, memories of those brutal campaigns flickering through his mind.
“Although Valdrion was only a corporal at the time, his remarkable skills and sense of justice impressed me. Even then, he distinguished himself from the other soldiers, not because of rank but because of character. He must chafe under your father’s capricious whims.”
“Oh, he hates my father,” Maseo said with a snort that held no humor, only bitter truth.
“If he weren’t such an incredible warrior, my father would have gotten rid of him centuries ago.
Instead, Father suppresses his rank and treats him poorly.
As a result, Valdrion got stuck with the grunt work of training me. ”
The pieces were falling into place regarding why Maseo carried himself with such disciplined confidence despite his youth. Valdrion would have ensured his student could survive in any situation, using any available weapon.
“Very well. Show me what he taught you.” Jaega selected two practice swords, their wooden construction worn smooth by countless sessions.
He offered one to Maseo. “But first, you will need to remove your ring. While you are not in any danger here, I fear the protective barrier will not differentiate between training and actual combat.”
Maseo glanced at Kitsuki, who observed their interaction with his arms crossed over his chest, his blue eyes intent and focused.
The dragon monarch nodded in approval, prompting Maseo to remove the ring and place it in his pocket.
He squared his shoulders and held his sword in a perfect defensive position, his stance reflecting years of ingrained muscle memory.
Kitsuki stepped closer to the sparring area, his gaze fixed on Maseo. “Begin with basic forms,” he instructed, his voice carrying royal authority. “I want to assess his fundamentals before we test his adaptability.”
Jaega started with a series of standard attacks of overhead strikes, diagonal cuts, and thrusting motions. He moved at half speed to gauge Maseo’s responses, who met each attack with textbook-perfect blocks and parries.
“Faster,” Kitsuki commanded.
Jaega increased his pace, and Maseo matched him effortlessly. The wooden swords clashed together in a steady rhythm as they moved through complex combinations. Maseo’s footwork was exceptional as he glided across the training floor.
Without warning, Jaega launched a full-force attack, bringing his weapon down hard on Maseo’s with considerable strength.
The impact would have driven most fighters to their knees, but Maseo absorbed the blow and spun away, using the momentum to create distance and launch a counterattack that forced Jaega to give ground.
As they sparred in earnest, Jaega saw Valdrion’s influence in every aspect of Maseo’s form.
The half-wolf shifter fought cleanly, never resorting to dirty tricks or underhanded tactics with ruthless efficiency.
Quick on his feet, he possessed an almost supernatural ability to read his opponent’s intentions, never leaving himself open to attack.
Most impressive was how Maseo learned as they sparred, adapting to Jaega’s preferred combinations and shifting his defensive positioning to counter them.
It surprised Jaega he had to exert actual effort in intense combat to disarm Maseo, sending his practice sword clattering across the wooden floor.
Rather than concede defeat or call for a regroup, Maseo switched to martial arts.
His empty hands rose into a defensive stance that Jaega recognized as a hybrid of different fighting styles.
He launched into a flurry of kicks and punches, his movements now faster and more unpredictable than they had been with a sword.
“Excellent adaptation,” Kitsuki murmured, his eyes tracking every motion.
When Jaega swept Maseo’s leg out from under him, the halfling executed an impressive back handspring, propelling himself clear of the general’s follow-up attack. Without missing a beat, Maseo took the offensive, pressing forward with a series of strikes.
Considering Maseo’s slight build compared to Jaega’s imposing frame, his hits landed harder than Jaega had expected. Each attack showed precise technique, targeting pressure points and vulnerable joints rather than relying on brute force.
“Excellent work, Maseo. Now, let’s see how you handle an actual weapon,” Jaega said. He picked up a sword for himself and gave the half-wolf shifter a battle-axe. “This will be a true test of your abilities.”
Maseo tested its weight and balance with the careful attention of someone who understood its demands.
“Uncle,” Kitsuki said, his voice taut with controlled tension, “I believe I should join the assessment.”
Jaega glanced at his nephew, noticing how the king’s blue eyes now contained shades of silver. His gaze seemed riveted to Maseo as he tested the axe’s swing.
“Are you certain that is wise?” Jaega asked in a neutral tone.
“My dragon insists,” Kitsuki replied, already moving toward the weapon wall to select a sword. “He wants to test Maseo personally.”
Both dragons took their positions, flanking Maseo in a loose triangle formation. Jaega noted how the half-shifter’s posture shifted as he faced two opponents instead of one. The young man’s grip on the axe handle tightened slightly, but his expression remained composed.
Without warning, Jaega struck first, testing how Maseo would manage the axe’s limitations against a faster weapon.
To his surprise, Maseo used the axe’s weight and momentum to his advantage, sweeping it in a defensive arc that forced Jaega to redirect his attack or risk having his blade caught in the heavier weapon’s path.
Kitsuki moved in perfect coordination with his uncle, pressing Maseo’s opposite flank with calculated strikes that would have overwhelmed most fighters. But what followed was a dance of steel that impressed Jaega’s seasoned warrior instincts.
Maseo moved with calculated precision, each swing of the heavy axe perfectly timed and positioned. He used the weapon’s reach and devastating power to keep both dragons at bay, compensating for its slower speed with superior footwork and tactical positioning.
His resourcefulness was remarkable. When Kitsuki pressed close to exploit the axe’s weakness in tight quarters, Maseo reversed his grip and wielded the weapon like a staff, driving the king back with rapid strikes.
“Impressive,” Kitsuki’s dragon growled through the king’s lips. His silver eyes blazed with predatory approval and something far more heated. “Such strength in those arms. Such control.”
Kitsuki’s gaze lingered on the flex of Maseo’s muscles as he wielded the heavy weapon was unmistakable. Jaega recognized that look; it was the same one dragons used to evaluate potential mates by cataloging prowess and combat ability with barely concealed desire.
However, it was more than simple attraction that caught Jaega’s attention.
He had seen his nephew spar with countless warriors over the years and had watched Kitsuki maintain perfect control even in the most intense training sessions.
Yet against their current opponent, Kitsuki’s dragon had emerged with silver fire burning in his eyes.
It wasn’t about combat interest but an instinctive pull that resonated with the deepest nature of the Ariake clan dragons.
Jaega had witnessed it before when Kitsuki first encountered Auslin.
The same magnetic draw, the same inability to maintain distance, and the same way his dragon seemed to take control without conscious permission.
The realization struck Jaega with sudden clarity. It was well-known that one partner had never been enough for any Ariake dragon. With Kizoshi hinting at a trinity bond in Kitsuki’s future, everything became clearer.
Watching his nephew circle Maseo with the focused intensity of a mate claiming territory, Jaega understood why Kitsuki’s control was slipping. His dragon recognized what his logical mind had yet to accept. The fierce warrior with a defiant spirit was what Kitsuki’s bond had been missing.
Maseo spun the battle-axe in a complex pattern that deflected both their simultaneous attacks, the heavy weapon moving in his hands as if it weighed nothing at all.
Sweat beaded on his forehead from the exertion, his tunic clinging to the defined muscles of his chest and arms. Jaega noticed Kitsuki’s nostrils flare as he caught Maseo’s scent.
“Your form is flawless,” Kitsuki’s dragon purred, pressing his attack with renewed vigor that forced Maseo to give ground. “We have rarely seen such mastery of a weapon so demanding.”
He delivered the praise in a tone that suggested Kitsuki’s dragon was evaluating far more than combat skills. There was possessiveness in that voice, a claim and hunger that spoke to instincts older than civilization itself.
Jaega smothered a knowing smile as he drew back from the fight, wondering how long it would take his nephew to realize they were the only two engaged in battle.