And so began the first month of my, ahem, “training.”

I wish I could say it was like an idyll and every new day was better than the last, but that would be a lie. As a I finally wanted to start forging a meaningful relationship with Grynoth the real trouble of such an unusual co-existence slowly revealed themselves to me.

The next week's training felt not only exhausting but also very frustrating. As I tried practising hand-to-hand combat, I noticed my movements were not only sluggish but also very imprecise.

“Shite,” I said, missing a training dummy once again. “Not again…”

As Grynoth observed me, I felt my cheeks flush red, suddenly wanting to crush that dummy.

“You are focusing too much on strength, trying to hit the target as hard as possible,” he commented, “Technique is much more important. Your strike should be swift, empowered by the movement of your torso, and your weight should constantly be switching in a moment of attack. Do that, and the strength will come.”

I tried again and, although doing things right the first couple of times, quickly reverted to my old ways afterwards.

“You should make the right movement of a strike into your habit. It will be long and hard, but I believe in you.”

“And how much will it take for me to master it as a habit?” I asked.

“Quite a lot… These things do not happen overnight. Around 1000 clean repeats, minimum.”

“Oh, wow… reminds me of this new awful grindy ruleset for the latest Baldur’s edition. Now I get what they meant, saying they wish to make things more *realistic*”.

I noticed I started to get envious of Grynoth's proficiency at everything he does. He is just… so much cooler than me.

After that came fencing.

At first, I was excited. There used to be a time when, under the pressure from my mom and grandpa, my dad enrolled me into a fencing school that prided itself on training their students far beyond a skill of an average noble. I was one of the best students there, even winning gold medals in tournaments… for a while. But the more I advanced, the more I felt how my following skill progression got slower and slower, until I got discouraged by the end results, dropping it completely.

When I tried fencing with Grynoth, Initially I thought I would be able to put up at least some kind of fight… I also remembered how I loathed losing, in the process of realizing how insignificant my abilities actually were in front of the experience of a warrior who is twice as big and strong as me.

“Why aren’t you stepping aside?” Grynoth surprised me by stabbing me with edge again, “Look how much space there is.”

“We weren't taught that way...” I replied, “Only back and front steps are allowed.”

“I see... then stop,” he suddenly commanded, ”we'll have to retrain.”

Here was another problem: on the continent of humans, fencing had long ago ceased to be a fighting style to most people, becoming just a sport. While there were incredibly skilled swordsmen who managed, somehow, to fight toe-to-toe with standard military ranged weaponry using both technique and modern augmentations, for the majority of folk, many rules and simplifications were introduced to make this art safe and accessible. Since I was trained in the latter style, my abilities remained inferior, and a training drill that I thought would have been the easiest and the most fun for me became instead one of the hardest and most frustrating ones.

“There you go” Grynoth was saying, correcting my stance once again, “Slowly, but you are learning. You will get there eventually, I believe in you.”

Suddenly, I felt indiscriminate rage. I have heard this so many times from so many instructors in so many spheres: “You will get there” or “Eventually”. Where did it lead me in the end? Just how much more time I will have to waste to get *anywhere*? What is the point if I will never be able to stand toe-to-toe with a dragonkin anyway!? What is the point of it all…

‘Oh come on, Gran, this isn’t you!’ I encouraged myself in my mind, ‘Where is your adventurous spirit?’

When things were down, I always called my adventure to support me in times of need just like a superpower. After all, if luck was somehow, magically, always on my side and I was achieving success in every trial before me, is this an adventure at all?

…and yet… Now, for some reason, I noticed I’m not feeling as encouraged as I did before.

As days passed, my frustration only grew. Despite Grynoth's patient guidance, I felt like I was making little progress. My strikes felt awkward, my movements off-balance. Every correction Grynoth offered only seemed to spotlight my failures. My body ached, my muscles burned, and my pride stung with each misstep and mistake.

No matter how hard I tried, he made everything look so effortless. Everyone said ‘Keep at it’ but nothing ever changes. Why should it be any different now?

"Gran, you need to focus on your footwork," Grynoth said, effortlessly disarming me once again.

“I’m trying! I just… man, this is so much more difficult than I thought…”

“I know it’s been a while since you pushed yourself like this,” he said, his voice even but firm. “It won’t be easy at first. I’ve seen recruits buckle under less. But this isn’t just about training. It’s about making sure you’re ready to face what’s out there.”

‘These buzzwords again…’ I thought, ‘“It won’t be easy”, “I’m doing it for your own good”…’

I felt anger again, but this time, I couldn’t understand where it was coming from. It was directed at Grynoth, but what for? He wasn’t really scolding me or anything…

Regardless, I retrieved my sword, trying to ignore the frustration simmering in my gut. "Right. Survival. Got it." I assumed the stance again, determined to get it right this time. Looking at the dexterous manoeuvres he has been able to pull while being a little bit overweight, I thought about how he would react if he was overpowered for once. How was he able to make everything look so easy?

‘Some people are just born gifted I guess…’

We spared for another round, and while I managed to hold my own a bit longer, Grynoth still disarmed me with embarrassing ease. I bit back a growl of irritation as I went to pick up my weapon once more.

"Perhaps we should take a break," Grynoth suggested, noting the tension in my posture. "Rest, have some water. We can resume in a couple of minutes.”

I nodded stiffly, turning away to grab my water skin. As I drank, I tried to calm the turmoil of emotions roiling inside me. Why was this affecting me so much? I had faced challenges before on my adventures. Setbacks and failures were nothing new. But somehow, here with Grynoth, each misstep felt magnified, a glaring reminder of my inadequacy.

Was it because he was a dragonkin, naturally stronger and more skilled than I could ever hope to be? Or was it something else, something deeper in me I wasn’t aware of?

***

As the third week started, I noticed my irritations increased, but this time they were coming from another place.

After returning from outdoors one day, I spotted Grynoth sitting near the window… with another cigarette. He was fiddling with it in his claws a bit, before finally deciding to light it.

‘I guess smoking like a cool noir character is another thing he is better than me at, huh… wait a minute… why is he even doing this again?’

I felt a little bit annoyed he decided to spend his hard-earned money on things like that and not once we might actually need more in our day-to-day life. But, above all…

‘Shouldn’t he be cutting on it by now?’

“You are… still on it?” I asked, cautiously.

“Trying to quit…” he said, solemnly, “habits like these can not be broken easily. You can’t just stop doing that all of a sudden and be done with it. You have to reduce them incrementally.”

“You… *do* remember these things are terrible for you though, right?”

Grynoth took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Do all youngsters teach grandparents to suck eggs in your realm?“

“As a matter of fact, we teach them to suck much… sweeter things. *If* you know what I mean,” I replied, trying to smile. But the joke felt empty; instead, an unsettling thought crept in. The idea of Grynoth’s health slipping away, one cigarette at a time, made the humour fall flat.

"Very mature, Gran,” said Grynoth, rolling his eyes, “Your wit never ceases to amaze."

“Just like your sarcasm…”

I watched as Grynoth took another long drag, the ember at the tip of his cigarette glowing brightly. The smoke curled around his snout as he exhaled, dissipating into the air.

"I'm serious. thought. I know it's not easy to quit, but... I worry about you. Those things are poison. They're killing you slowly."

Grynoth's gaze softened slightly as he met my eyes. "I appreciate your concern, Gran. But I've been smoking longer than you've been alive. It's not something I can just drop overnight."

Grynoth looked at the cigarette in his claws, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Back when I was in the army, this was the only way to keep the nerves in check. A little puff to feel like I was in control… when nothing else was."

"I get that, but… You aren’t in the army anymore, are you? You have to start somewhere, right? Maybe... maybe I could help? We could come up with a plan, and find some alternatives to help you cut back gradually."

Grynoth chuckled, shaking his head. "You've got enough on your plate with training. Don't burden yourself with this old dragon's vices."

I frowned again but didn’t press the subject.

“Well, I suppose you know better…”

I suddenly thought about something: considering the fact that nicotine affects dragonkin the same way it affects humans — I have seen its effect already — how much out of Grynoth’s oh-so-big life span he had already burned? Was it a year? A two? Five? A decade?

“You *could*, however, entertain me with your company for a while”, Grynoth said suddenly. “It was quite a while for you to enlighten me with interesting facts about your realm.”

“Oh? I thought you found my ramblings to be immature trite…”

Grynoth shrugged, taking another drag from his cigarette. "Your ramblings may be immature at times, but they're rarely trite. You have a unique perspective, a refreshing one, in its own way. Even though the liveliness of your mind is bogged down by your own laziness and some ignorance — two flaws you will need to overcome, eventually."

I couldn't help but smile at that, but, at the same time, there was something offensive at how Grynoth phrased that — his potshots about my mind notwithstanding.

“Is this… the only reason you want to talk to me? To rid me of ignorance and laziness?” I asked, suddenly.

Grynoth paused, studying me carefully. He took another slow drag from his cigarette before speaking. "Of course not, Gran. I enjoy our conversations and your company. But as your mentor, it's also my duty to help you grow, to overcome the obstacles holding you back. Including the ones that lie deep inside you.”

“I mean…”

I hesitated, unsure how to respond. Part of me appreciated Grynoth's honest feedback and desire to help me improve. But another part bristled at the implication that I was somehow broken, in need of fixing.

“Well, sure why not!”

Despite that, however, it was quite a while since I mentioned anything else to Grynoth after a few days. Looking back at it now, I really enjoyed our conversations as well, and there was so much more I wanted to tell him. Past weeks have been so focused on the training that we didn’t really have a chance to bond.

And yet… Just at that moment, I suddenly found all of my enthusiasm dwindling for some reason.

“On second thought… Maybe tomorrow. I feel a bit tired from our training.”

“That’s okay, your body is still adapting. Take as much time as you need.”

“Yeah, sure.”

As I returned to my room, I suddenly contemplated how weird it was: suddenly losing interest in things that interested me not so long ago. What was the reason for that?

***

The next day, we had a little sparring with Grynoth once again. To my surprise, I actually scored a few shots! However… very soon my enthusiasm dwindled.

After a few blows, Grynoth suddenly stopped, gasping for air.

“Master?… Are you alright?” I asked, already knowing the reason.

Grynoth waved off my concern, straightening up with a deep breath. "I'm fine, Gran. Just need a moment."

I frowned, my worry not abating. "Are you sure? We can take a break if you need it."

"No, no breaks," Grynoth insisted, his voice gruff. "A warrior doesn't have the luxury of resting in the heat of battle."

I bit my lip, frustration welling up. "This isn't supposed to be a battle, Grynoth. And you're not doing yourself any favours by pushing yourself in such a condition”.

Grynoth's eyes narrowed, a flash of annoyance crossing his scaly features. "I know my limits, Gran. I don't need you coddling me. And it would be wise of you to remember how to address me during our training sessions at all times."

Feeling boiling over,I bit my lip again and continued.

“As you wish, *master*. You know better.”

“Precisely”, he said, ready to continue.

‘How the creature that has so much wisdom makes so little common sense!?’ — I thought afterwards, ‘Didn’t he realize what he was doing? Or does living or surviving for so long make him think he became a little too invincible!?’

I I have realized I’m so indignant at that moment… in more ways than one. Aside from my normal concern for Grynoth's health, something else was brewing inside me. I felt so tired for just these two weeks… tired of always being an underdog, tired of him always having an upper hand… and it was always okay for him to indulge in his vices, while I got a lecture about discipline when trying to be just a little bit lazy. Wouldn’t it be nice if, just once, I had the power?…

‘Stop… what the hell am I thinking!? The man is destroying his health! This isn’t what I am supposed to be thinking about!’

After training, I had to come to terms with a very troublesome problem: Grynoth couldn’t quit smoking. His habit seemed to be taking a toll on his health, yet he stubbornly refused to fully quit. Even more than that… the way he addressed me that day wasn’t exactly normal — as if he was about to lash out — this isn’t what I meant by him showing an “emotion”. I understood that addictions were hard to break, but watching him struggle for breath during our training sessions filled me with a sense of even more helplessness.

As I switched my thoughts, the question became what to do with this. Sadly, there was only one solution I could come up with.