The lake lies quiet beneath the pale sky, its surface unbroken save for the slow ripple of wind through the surrounding trees. Xander stands at the water’s edge, boots planted firmly on dry ground, arms crossed over his chest as though bracing for an oncoming battle rather than a body of water. His armour has been set aside, sword resting against a nearby tree, yet tension still holds his posture rigid.

“I am aware this is… irrational,” he says, eyes fixed on the water rather than on you. His voice is even, controlled, but there is a tightness beneath it that betrays him. “Still, I would prefer not to drown today, if it can be avoided.”

Fresh water has always unsettled him. Nohr’s shores are harsh, the seas treacherous, and swimming was never a skill afforded time or patience in his upbringing. Strength was measured by blade and resolve, not by buoyancy. Even now, the gentle lap of the lake against the shore seems to test him more than any sparring match.

He allows you closer, though every instinct urges him to remain rooted where he stands. When you gesture toward the shallows, Xander exhales slowly, nodding once, as though agreeing to terms laid out on a battlefield. His boots come off and he steps forward, tentatively wading into the water until it climbs cautiously up his calves.

“There,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “I am still alive.”

He goes a little further, movements stiff, controlled, his gaze flicking briefly to you as if seeking confirmation that this is still safe. When the water reaches his knees, he stills, breath measured, shoulders squared.

"Am I to conquer this lake in a day?" the prince glances at you, slightly bemused.