Lance continued practicing day by day, always before the watchful gaze of the elder dragon.
He stood at the edge of a vast plateau, a different location, sweat glistening on his skin as he went through the motions of his drills. His sword carved clean arcs through the air, each strike as precise as Lance could make them, each movement refined through countless repetitions.
Some distance away, the elder dragon who seemed to have all the time to always look after Lance's training, watched him closely.
As Lance completed a set of sequences, the dragon's keen eyes caught every imperfection.
"Your stance faltered on the last pivot," the dragon pointed out. "You're too focused on the motion of your blade and not on your body's foundation. Strength comes from the ground up."
