The Male Lead isn't Following the Script!
Chapter 183: Departure (2)

Chapter 183: Departure (2)

Adeline stood nearby with Aaron and their father, the Marquess, each maintaining their composure.

Adeline clasped her hands behind her back, resisting the urge to fuss over Alaric’s belongings or offer any last-minute advice. He was her older brother, after all, he didn’t need her fretting over him like a child.

"Well," Alaric said, turning to face them with a small smile. "It seems everything’s ready."

"You’ve got everything, haven’t you?" Aaron asked, crossing his arms as he leaned casually against one of the carriage wheels. "Books? Clothes? The absurd amount of snacks Adeline forced the cook to pack?"

Aaron tried his best to lighten the mood. Their big brother was about to leave, and he needed to make it through this situation without crying. He refused to let Alaric think he was weak.

After all, he was going to be taking his place for the next four years.

Adeline flushed. "They’re not absurd! He will be gone for months! He needs something to remind him of home!"

She knew the importance of it well enough. She experienced it in her past life... Or well, experienced the lack of it anyway. Not having a place to call home is painful, and having one but forced to be far away from it was just as hard.

The Marquess stepped forward, his presence commanding as always. "Alaric," he began, his tone steady, "you’ve grown into a fine young man. I expect you to continue carrying yourself with the dignity and honour of a Kendrick. But more importantly, learn all you can. Your future—and the future of this family—depends on your ability to lead."

He never shied away from declaring him as the heir. While others wondered if Aaron would enter the race to become the future Marquess, the people working in the estate knew about the brotherly bonds. They would never be rivals, they would support each other.

"Yes, Father," Alaric replied, his posture straightening slightly. "I’ll make you proud."

"You already do," the Marquess said simply, placing a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. It was a brief gesture, but it conveyed more than words ever could.

Aaron stepped forward next, offering his older brother a mock salute. "Don’t forget to write," he said, grinning. "Preferably with stories about how you’ve managed to outsmart all the professors and charm half the student body."

He knew this brother of his was charming. He saw how close he was to the heiress of the Griffin name. His sister was taken by Victoria and his brother by Isabelle, and now he was left. With arms crossed he lamented about how unfair the world is.

Finally, Adeline approached, her usual confidence intact. "Don’t get too comfortable at the academy," she teased. "You’ll have to come back and visit us sooner or later."

"Of course," Alaric said, his tone light. "Who else will keep you in line while I’m gone?"

Adeline rolled her eyes but smiled. "Take care of yourself, Alaric. And don’t forget to practice your fencing. I’m catching up to you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Catching up, are you? I’ll look forward to seeing that when I return."

With that, the farewells were complete. Alaric turned and climbed into the carriage, settling into the seat with practised ease. The driver snapped the reins, and the horses began to move, the carriage rolling forward with a gentle creak.

"Well," Aaron said, breaking the silence, "I guess that means I’m the oldest around here now. Time to start throwing my weight around."

Adeline elbowed him lightly. "You’d better behave, or I’ll make you regret it."

"Come now, Adeline. Time for your training." The Marquess replied in a low voice.

"Come now, Adeline. Time for your training."

The Marquess’s voice was calm but firm, leaving no room for argument. Adeline who just finished waving goodbye to her brother, flinched. She was too sad to train! The recent days had been hard on her, and she deserved a break, did she not?!

"I... I’m not feeling well," Adeline tried hesitantly, hoping he might let her off just this once.

The Marquess raised an eyebrow, his piercing gaze locking on hers. "You’re fine, Adeline. Sadness isn’t an excuse to neglect your training. On your feet."

Her heart sank as she realised there was no escape. She set aside her complaints and followed him reluctantly, dragging her feet as she followed him out to the training area. The hallway seemed longer than usual, each step heavier than the last as they made their way toward the training grounds.

When they arrived, she noticed Aaron already there, leaning lazily against a post. His posture relaxed, but the scowl on his face made it clear he wasn’t any happier about this arrangement than she was.

"Ah, there you are Linny," Aaron teased, straightening up as they approached. "Let me guess, you tried to weasel your way out of it?"

Adeline shot him a glare. "At least I don’t complain every five seconds."

"Do you want to fight?" the Marquess interjected, his tone sharp. Aaron and Adeline immediately shut up. It was a threat.

Adeline was being trained by her father and Aaron by the Captain. It was just another day.

Adeline turned back to her father, who stood with his arms crossed, a stern expression on his face. "You’ve been neglecting your form," he said bluntly. "Lightning powers or not, your foundation needs work. Pick up the staff."

Her eyes darted to the wooden staff resting against the training rack. She hesitated, but the Marquess’s unyielding gaze left her no choice. Grabbing the staff, she held it awkwardly in her hands, feeling its weight as her father stepped forward.

"First stance," he instructed, demonstrating with his own staff. "Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. Balance is key."

Adeline mimicked his stance, though her movements were sluggish. She couldn’t shake the heaviness in her chest, the feeling of being overwhelmed by everything. Her father noticed immediately.

"Focus, Adeline," he said sharply. "Your stance is weak."

"I’m trying," she muttered, adjusting her footing.

"Not hard enough. Again."

Adeline went from being Daddy’s little girl to the Marquess’ favourite punching bag, at least that was how she felt. Her father wanted to make sure she was strong, so strong that no one would dare to attack her.

For the next hour, her father drilled her relentlessly, correcting every misstep, every mistake. Her arms ached from holding the staff, her legs burned from maintaining the stances. Sweat dripped down her forehead, but the Marquess showed no signs of easing up.

"Better," he finally said, nodding slightly as she managed to hold a proper stance for more than a few seconds. "But you’re still too stiff. Loosen up, but don’t lose your form. You’re not a statue."

Adeline exhaled heavily, trying to keep her frustration in check. She adjusted her grip, focusing on her movements. Her father circled her like a hawk, catching her every flaw leaving her no chance for respite.

Meanwhile, Aaron’s voice carried across the field. "Come on, Captain! Give me a break!"

The Captain’s response was a sharp bark of laughter, followed by the clash of wooden swords as he pushed Aaron harder.

Adeline couldn’t help but smirk, despite her own misery. At least she wasn’t the only one suffering.

"Don’t get distracted," her father snapped, drawing her attention back to him. "You’re fighting your brother tomorrow."

"What?!"