Chapter 190 - 135 : Year 31 - 36 Trevor And Gabriel Veymont

Chapter 190: Chapter 135 : Year 31 - 36 Trevor And Gabriel Veymont

Gabriel’s laughter rang across the training yard as he pushed himself up from the packed earth, brushing dust from his clothes. A fresh mark had begun to redden along his forearm, but he seemed far more interested in the broad grin spreading across his face.

"Again!" he called.

Trevor stood a few paces away, barely winded. He shook the dust from his hand and gave his younger brother a look of amused disbelief.

"You’re back already? I thought last time might have taught you something."

"It did." Gabriel rolled his shoulders and stepped forward. "I learned that I need to hit you harder."

Several nearby guards laughed. Trevor glanced at them before returning his attention to his brother.

"That’s a fine lesson. Perhaps next time you can learn how to land a hit first."

Gabriel scoffed. "Keep talking. I’ll remember every word when I knock you flat."

The two brothers had been at it long enough for their banter to become part of the training yard’s usual noise. The open ground lay within the castle walls, its surface packed firm by years of footsteps. Racks of practice weapons stood near one side, while scarred wooden posts and straw-stuffed dummies occupied another.

Across the yard, several soldiers worked through their drills under the eyes of their instructors. The clack of wooden weapons, the thud of fists against padded targets, and the occasional bark of a command carried between the stone walls.

The Veymont’s brothers had drawn an audience, though nobody had abandoned their duties to watch. Trevor was the elder by nine years, and the difference between them was obvious even before either moved.

At twenty-two, he had the build of a young man who had spent years training his body. His shoulders were broad, but his muscles were lean and compact rather than bulky, and there was a controlled strength in the way he stood. His golden-blond hair, inherited from Lucy, was tied back from his face, leaving strong brows, a straight nose, and a firm jaw visible.

He glanced at Gabriel’s raised fists and smiled, lifting his own hands without so much as shifting his feet. "Come on, then."

Gabriel, at thirteen, was shorter, but not by as much as his age might suggest. Years of relentless training had given him the sturdy build of a boy several years older. His shoulders and arms were thick with muscle, and his chest and abdomen had begun to take on the definition of someone who rarely went long without putting his body through another exercise.

His blond hair was a shade darker than Trevor’s and had fallen untidily across his forehead. A stronger jaw was beginning to emerge beneath his youthful features, but his wide grin and bright, restless eyes still betrayed the boy he was.

For all their differences, both brothers possessed the same stubborn confidence when it came to training.

Near the edge of their practice space stood the old retainer responsible for their martial instruction. His long grey hair was braided and drawn back from his face, and he wore a sleeveless martial tunic that left his powerful arms exposed.

Age had left lines across his face and grey in his beard, but it had done little to diminish the strength of his frame. He leaned on a walking stick, his posture relaxed enough to suggest that he was merely observing the morning’s exercises.

Nobody who knew his abilities would have mistaken that appearance for frailty.

The retainer had reached Force Tempering long ago. Even now, with the years beginning to slow him, he carried a quiet, intimidating presence. The younger martial artists gave him space without being asked, and even the more experienced guards tended to listen when he spoke.

He had trained Trevor through successive stages of body tempering and had taken the same responsibility for Gabriel, though the younger boy often tested his patience.

The retainer looked from Gabriel to Trevor.

"Enough talking. Get into position."

Gabriel’s grin widened. He rolled his shoulders, flexed his fingers, and cracked his knuckles.

"You heard him. Come on, Trevor. No weapons today. Just how I like it."

"I know how you like it," Trevor replied, settling into his stance. "You like anything that gives you an excuse to swing your fists."

"Because they work."

"Not particularly well against me."

Gabriel’s grin tightened into a challenging smile. "Don’t blame me when you end up on the ground."

"Just don’t go crying to Mother when I put you there instead."

His younger brother gave an exaggerated scoff. "You wish."

The old retainer lifted his walking stick slightly.

"Begin."

Gabriel moved at once.

He drove forward with quick, light steps, closing the distance before Trevor had even settled fully into his stance. His first punch came straight toward Trevor’s chest, followed by a second aimed at the ribs. He shifted his weight and tried to catch his brother with a third strike before Trevor could respond.

Trevor barely moved.

His hand turned aside the first punch, his forearm intercepted the second, and he shifted his hips just enough to let the third pass harmlessly across his side. His feet remained planted, and he did not give up so much as a full step of ground.

Gabriel clicked his tongue.

"Stop standing there like a wall!"

"Try hitting something other than my arms."

Gabriel immediately changed his approach. He stepped to the side, tried to draw Trevor’s guard upward, and then darted in with a lower strike. This time, Trevor had to adjust his footing. He caught Gabriel’s wrist, guided the punch past him, and released it before the younger boy could pull him off balance.

Gabriel spun away and sprang back into range.

A few of the watching guards exchanged amused glances. They had seen this before. Gabriel came into every match with a new idea, a fresh burst of confidence, and the conviction that this would finally be the day he defeated his elder brother. Trevor, meanwhile, had learned that his younger brother’s determination was often more exhausting than his attacks.

"All that mouth," Trevor said, "and you still can’t touch me properly."

"I touched your sleeve!"

"Should I congratulate you?"

Gabriel charged again.

This time, Trevor stopped playing along.

He stepped inside the incoming punch, struck Gabriel’s forearm aside, and delivered a controlled blow to his shoulder. Before Gabriel could recover, Trevor turned, caught his balance shifting forward, and swept his leg. Gabriel hit the ground on his side with a heavy thump.

Trevor stepped back, allowing him room to rise.

"That’s enough for one lesson."

Gabriel lay still for half a breath.

Then he burst out laughing.

"That was a good one."

He rolled onto his knees, pushed himself up, and returned to his stance before Trevor had finished shaking his head.

The elder brother stared at him. "Do you ever get tired?"

"Not when I’m about to win."

"You’re about to lose."

"We’ll see!"

Gabriel came at him again, and for the next several exchanges, the yard filled with the sounds of their movements. His attacks were forceful, sometimes too forceful, and his eagerness still made him leave openings that a more patient opponent could exploit. But he was quick to recover.

When Trevor turned aside one strike, Gabriel used the movement to attempt another. When his elder brother stopped a punch, he did not immediately retreat. He tried to follow through, change angles, or force Trevor to react before he could settle back into his preferred stance.

For all his mistakes, the boy was learning.

Trevor began taking him more seriously. He still blocked most of Gabriel’s attacks with little effort, but he could no longer treat every advance as a clumsy rush. Gabriel’s footwork had improved, his balance was more reliable, and his movements carried a degree of force that would have been difficult for him to manage only a few years earlier.

Then Gabriel slipped a quick punch through the space between Trevor’s guard and shoulder. It struck his upper arm.

The blow was not particularly powerful, and it barely affected Trevor’s stance, but Gabriel’s face lit up as though he had just won the entire match.

"Ha! There! You felt that one!"

Trevor looked down at the place where the punch had landed, then back at his brother.

"Yes. I felt it."

Gabriel pointed at him. "You can’t deny it now!"

"I wasn’t going to." Trevor’s mouth curved into a smile. "You’ve improved enough to hit me when I allow you the chance."

The grin vanished from Gabriel’s face.

"Allow me?"

Trevor’s smile widened.

"You heard me."

Gabriel rushed forward with a frustrated shout, throwing himself into another exchange. Trevor caught his first two blows, avoided the third, and then drove a short, controlled strike into Gabriel’s guarded chest. The impact forced the younger boy backward. Trevor followed before he could recover, caught his arm, and sent him tumbling onto the earth again.

A few guards laughed.

Gabriel sat up, glaring at them for a moment before looking back at his brother.

"You’re enjoying this too much."

"You’re the one who keeps asking for it."

"Because one day I’m going to win."

"Of course you are."

"I’m serious!"

"So am I. One day."

Gabriel jumped to his feet, his fists already raised.

Trevor laughed. "You’re like a little cockroach. I knock you down, and you keep crawling back."

"Then you’d better learn to crush me properly!" Gabriel shot back. "Because when I break through to Bone Tempering, you’ll be the one getting knocked around!"

"Reach Bone Tempering first."

"I will."

"And then what?"