A harsh wakeup and morning thoughts.

Jason was awoken by Aaron, the estate butler, early in the morning much earlier than he would have liked.

"Young master Exumbra. your father asked me to wake you, he would have one last training session before you leave, at your convenience. He is waiting for you in the courtyard." Aaron said as he slid open the curtains, bowed then left as he assured himself that Jason was up and getting dressed. 'Uuuuugh' Jason thought. 'Need more sleep.' Nevertheless, he got dressed in his training clothes and belted on his sword, an unadorned hand and a half sword that he kept honed to a perfect edge, sharp enough to cut without wasting effort, yet not so razor thin as to damage it with too hard a strike.

Logan wasn't the greatest student for his teachers early in life, or his tutors later when his education happened solely at home, but it wasnt because he was a bad student, he was just *bored* he found he did much better when he could exert himself while he learned, which wasn't something his tutors had managed to work into math or history. He had started training in martial arts with his father at 6, taking to it like a flora mage to trees. By 10, he was a blackbelt in two different martial arts, and quickly growing adept with the unique forms his father had developed himself.

For his twelfth birthday, his father got permission for him to join a martial arts competition. Then that night, he xplained why they had different last names, their situation and standing in the magical community, and why, no matter how many times Jason had asked, his father had never left the house to go into town with him and his mom. He had gone to that competition, and gotten another birthday present, one he thought was a hundred time better than participating.

The council had allowed his father to come watch him compete.

He was seated off to the side of the rest of the crowd, with his mother smushed up against his left and Dean sitting to his right, looking like the happiest man in the world. Sure, there were another four justicars arrayed behind him watching his every move, but his dad didn't seem to mind, so Jason didn't worry about it either. They insisted since he had never attended public classes or participated in a previous event that he would be required to compete at the lowest level, with kids from ages Eight to ten. His first bout was with a boy almost his age, the oldest after Jason himself. After seeing that, they decided it was best for everyone to move him up three groups, with boys and girls four to five years older than him.

He still took fourth place. He loved every minute, even the moment he had looked up at a seventeen-year old after she put him on his back and finally eliminated him. He chased the high of that competition for weeks, throwing himself into training for the nest competition, a tournament 6 months away. His fervor only cooling once his mother caught wind of his suffering studies in other academic areas and put her foot down and insisted he maintain a balanced education, regardless of where his interests lay, or be barred from further marrial competitions.

Six months later, after managing to scrape back over the minimum requirement into his mother's good graces, he took first. After that, he stood on the podium at every competition he attended. At thirteen, his father gifted him his first sword, and his martial arts lesson began to be complemented by lessons with the blade, and lectures on military strategy, philosophy, and ethics. One of his Father's favorite quotes was 'it is not coming out of a battle unmarked, but having convinced your opponent not to fight at all, that marks the apex of a warrior's skill' in his notes, Jason had paraphrased it as 'its easier to win a fight if they don't show up.'

Turns out, even on subjects he was viscerally interested in, they were only marginally more interesting that his normal lectures.

As Jason weaved his to their training circle in the back yard, he found his father already waiting, sitting crossed legged with his own sword, thinner but with several inches of length advantage on Jason's sword just inside the far edge of the circle, and Dean was standing relaxed several yards away, having watched their sparring on and off since the beginning.

"Father," Jason started, giving a light bow as Richard lifted himself smoothly to his feet. "I apologize for keeping you waiting."

"Non-sense." His father smiled back. "Your a young man, young men need their rest, I'm told." He smiled, and started to turn towards Dean like they were going to share one of those 'only old guys get it' looks, but then launched himself at Jason.

The fight was on!