One morning, Reinhardt decided Owen needed "social training."
This was never a good sign.
"Come with me," Reinhardt said already walking.
"Where?" Owen asked.
"To fix a critical weakness."
"I'm injured?"
"No," Reinhardt replied. "You're awkward."
They stopped near the outer gardens of the estate, where a girl sat on a low stone wall, legs swinging lazily as she watched the knights train below.
She had silver-brown hair tied loosely behind her head and sharp eyes that missed absolutely nothing.
Reinhardt waved. "LYRA!"
She turned. "Uncle?"
Owen froze.
"This," Reinhardt said, slapping a hand on Owen's back hard enough to almost knock the soul out of him, "is my trainee."
Lyra's eyes flicked to Owen. Calm. Curious. Then interest.
Owen felt his spine forget how to function.
"Oh," she said. "You're the one everyone's talking about."
Owen opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Reinhardt leaned down and whispered, far too loudly, "Say something. Preferably words."
"I-uhm-training's been… good," Owen blurted.
Lyra smiled politely. "That's… nice."
Reinhardt nodded. "He's humble. Also strong. Also single."
"UNCLE," Lyra snapped.
Owen wished the ground would swallow him whole.
Lyra laughed, then tilted her head. "You train under my uncle?"
"Yes," Owen said quickly. "I mean-yes, sir-ma'am-ah Lyra."
Reinhardt grinned like he'd just won a war. "Look at him go." He thought to himself
For a brief moment, things almost recovered, well almost it was until when Cedric Landergrey walked past Lyra's entire expression changed.
"Oh," she said softly.
Owen followed her gaze.
Cedric didn't even look their way.
Lyra straightened, smoothing her clothes unconsciously. "He's gotten sharper lately."
Reinhardt raised a brow. "You still on that?"
She sighed. "You wouldn't get it."
Reinhardt smirked. "I get it plenty. Bad taste runs in the family."
Lyra ignored him. Her eyes stayed on Cedric until he disappeared.
Then she looked back at Owen, smile polite again but distant now. "It was nice meeting you."
"Yeah," Owen said. "You too."
She left.
Reinhardt watched her go, then glanced at Owen. "Well don't feel bad. Fumbling is the natural state of man. Why do you think I spent thirty years mastering the art of invisibility? It wasn't to sneak into dragon hoards, I'll tell you that much."
Owen covered his face. "I understand it now. Just promise me we aren't ever doing this again."
"Oh please, at least you didn't die," Reinhardt said. "That's progress."
"I'd rather go fight a dragon and die than go through this humiliation again."
"Good," Reinhardt replied. "Humiliation builds character."
Owen didn't answer.
He just walked.
Straight into the woods.
That night, the forest heard him again.
The boulder didn't move.
Owen pushed anyway.
Hands trembling. Jaw clenched. Breath sharp.
Not anger.
Resolve.
He trained until his arms gave out. Until his legs shook. But every time he thought about what happened earlier, he'd get up and push even harder.
The embarrassment kept Owen pushing and in a fit of rage Owen nudged the boulder bit by bit until his body gave out.
He lay on the ground staring up into the starry sky. " I'll get strong and get a woman too." He muttered under his cold breath.
Meanwhile Reinhardt leaned behind a tree in the darkness grinning ear to ear with pride you could see his teeth shine despite it being dark.
Two years passed like a long breath.
Owen sat on the steps just outside the manor, elbows resting on his knees, watching the late afternoon light spill across the courtyard. As Lady Delia sat beside him, hands folded neatly in her lap, the familiar warmth of her presence grounding him more than any training ever had.
"You've grown," she said softly.
Owen smiled. "You say that everyday."
"And every day it's true."
Silence settled between them, comfortable, practiced. Then she spoke again.
"The test is tomorrow."
"I know."
She glanced at him. "Have you decided?"
Owen exhaled, slow and steady. "Yeah."
She waited.
"I don't want to be a knight."
Her hands tightened slightly, then relaxed.
"I want to leave," he continued. "Travel. Fight monsters. Get stronger. Meet people I've never seen before. Almost die a few times… then live through it."
She turned to him fully now. "That sounds dangerous."
He grinned. "That's the point."
She studied his face, searching for hesitation. Finding none.
"And after that?" she asked. "Where will you go?"
"I'll figure it out," Owen said. "I always do."
Her eyes softened, a mix of worry and pride that only a mother could hold at the same time. She reached out, resting her hand on his head the way she used to when he was smaller.
"Just… don't disappear," she said. "And don't forget where you came from."
"I won't," Owen replied scoffing a little under his breath. "And you don't have to worry about me."
She smiled, though her eyes betrayed her. "That's impossible."
They sat there until the sun dipped low, neither rushing the moment.
Elsewhere, steel and laughter filled the air.
Cedric leaned against a rack of polished weapons, surrounded by fellow squires still riding the high of their own expectations.
"Royal Division," one of them said. "I'm telling you, Cedric. With your talent? It's basically guaranteed."
"Yeah," another chimed in. "You're not ending up as some border knight. You're destined for greatness."
Cedric didn't respond. He stared ahead, expression unreadable.
Someone snorted. "You hear about the test tomorrow?"
"Of course," another said. "Everyone worth anything will be there."
A pause.
"What about Owen?" someone asked casually.
A few chuckles broke out immediately.
"Oh him?" one said. "Didn't you hear? He said he doesn't even want knighthood."
"Apparently he wants to be a mercenary," another added, laughing. "Go hunt animals or something, that's better suited for someone without mana."
"Figures," someone scoffed. "Aimless did always suit him."
More laughter.
Cedric's grip tightened slightly around the leather strap in his hand.
They kept talking, throwing jokes sharper than blades, but Cedric stayed quiet.
For the first time, the idea that Owen wouldn't be there tomorrow felt… wrong.