Mircea's heart is thumping like a drum against her lightweight cuirass, every brain cell anticipating her opponent's next move. She tightens her fingers around the dark metal, slowly drawing her left foot back as she perches the sword a little high, ready to continue the fight.
Her stark green eyes solely concentrate on Carsten Kilyvo. The chief-in-commander of Slyve's army. For every other person in Slyve and outside of Slyve he was a ruthless chief who only took orders from the king himself. But to Mircea, he was a mentor and right now her only competitor in the kingdom.
Carsten sprints in her direction with determination, their swords clink with force, their power roaring with each lunge and every counterattack making the small audience they have attracted jump in excitement. Mircea's breath comes out short and ragged.
Beads of sweats push their way through her thick armour suit. She swiftly dips when Carsten makes a high cut and slides on her knees, knocking him off his. Mircea gets the upper hand. The crowd cheers from behind but not for too long. Carsten is fast to get on his knees. His defence is strong, unlike Mircea. Mircea has mastered how to attack with agility and power. But she knew that strong defence was of utmost importance.
That was the reason Carsten never lost.
Right now, she must make use of what she is best at. Mircea swings her sword short, hitting Carsten's lower abdomen. She does not stop. She lunges her sword in a low cut, sweeping him off his knees. He jumps, recovering from the last hit and regains his posture.
It takes him one more minute to recover from her attacks, but when he does, he strikes hard. Mircea tries to hold his sword with her own.
The pressure Carsten is exerting on her is too much. Even the crowd has gone silent. Warm air rushes past them, teasing their little battle. Mircea hardly manages to get out of Carsten's hold when he attacks again. She holds her sword tight, defending herself with every swing coming her way.
"Do not let this become a routine Mircea," Carsten shouts while swinging his sword in diverse ways at once. Mircea thinks of ways she can win this battle for once and all and prove him wrong. Think of his strategies. Don't just fight with your body. Use your brain. Mircea recalls her lessons; she does not answer him.
Taking a deep breath, she studies his posture, a long, high swing. She has time. Short swing instead of defending herself is an elevated risk, but she cannot win this by simply defending herself.
She briskly spins the sword in her hand and hits him right on his armoured chest. Carsten stumbles back in surprise. A smirk blesses his wrinkled face. Mircea takes a second to hit him again. One more swing and he will almost retire, she surmises.
She lifts the sword in her right arm, ready to swing her last resort at him.
"Your Highness!" A soft but bold voice resonates through the training field. Mircea ignores the sound and jumps to attack Carsten; he hastily takes a defensive position. An ear-splitting noise booms from the clash. The crowd gasps expecting the chief to lose any moment now.
"Your highness, the matter is urgent! Her highness, princess Faustina is waiting for you."
"You should go," Carsten warns her.
"I'm about to win this," Mircea presses hard on the sword.
"I wouldn't be so sure."
"Your highness!" The urgency is crystal clear in her voice. Mircea finally lets go and slightly bows in Carsten's direction before striding towards her elder sister's personal attendant. What was so important that she had to intervene her combat practice?
"You better have a good reason for this!" Mircea looks down at the court lady. Hina is timid but clever.
"Princess Faustina is waiting for you. We should hurry!"
Hina does not explain anything further, but she waits for Mircea to start walking before trudging after her.
The ground underneath Mircea's feet appears warm and damp from the heat present in the air. Mircea strongly dislikes summer. Summers for her are never comforting but rather suffocating and overwhelming. The thick dark walls of the palace comfort her.
The pre-eminent palace is where she resides with her father, sister, and her brother-in-law. Oh, how she misses having the monthly dinner with her family and her family only.
It has been a month since her father, the King of Slyve, has been lying barely conscious on his grand bed. There is nothing she can do to make it better for him or his kingdom. The royal healers have been working tirelessly, aiding his unseen and unheard wounds.
The head royal healer still does not know what has gotten to the king. Coward Sickness, he calls it, as it hides behind his deep scars and thick blood.
"Your highness, I have been ordered to take you directly to the king's quarters." Hina stutters stopping Mircea from going to the west wing, where her sister's quarters are.
"Why? Did something happen? Is he all right?" Mircea demands, walking in the opposite direction.
"I do not know your highness; I was told to escort you to the king's quarter." She looks down answering Mircea.
"Well, we better hurry then" Mircea takes long strides, fear coursing through her blood. Mircea very well knows the odds are against her and her father right now, but she is a person who will rather keep hoping and working instead of giving up.
Nothing can kill her hope except, death itself.
The corridors grow narrow, the number of guards increase with each step she takes. Mircea instinctively touches her sheathed sword as she stands in front of her father's room; she takes a minute before she slightly pushes open the heavy door and glances at the bed.
The old king is sleeping soundly, Faustina is sitting at his bedside. Mircea opens the door further and steps into the lavish room. The room, which used to have a trace of exotic body perfumes, is now filled with a light essence of different herbs.
"How is he?" Mircea whispers, afraid she will wake him. Faustina sniffs before looking at her younger sister through glassy eyes. She had been crying, Mircea's heart skips a beat.
There is no good news, she presumes.
Faustina looks behind Mircea, "Your highness," Hina bows addressing Faustina. "You are dismissed." Hina closes the door leaving the two sisters alone with their father. Mircea's eyes are glued to their father.
Faustina sighs, glancing at her. They both stare at their father in agony, like they can feel the pain he and his court are experiencing.
"How bad is it?" Mircea breaks the ear-splitting silence. "The royal healers say his condition is getting worse day after day. The situation is spiralling out of their control. There is nothing they can do anymore."
"So, he will die? Just like that!?" Mircea's voice breaks at the end.
"No! That is why I wanted to meet you. There is a way. The council has been looking for another healer. They have found one and they want you to go. We cannot trust anyone. I am the crown-princess and, therefore, I cannot leave the palace or my duties behind." Faustina looked tired. She and her husband have been preparing to take over the throne any moment.
King Renomus was yet to step down officially.
Prince Pyron had been unofficially overseeing all the duties of a king with Faustina by his side.
"What way is that?" Mircea perches on the bed next to her.
"Urban Waldwick. People call him the legendary healer who healed the King of Gyyza four times when he was on death bed." Bright specks of hope sparkle in Mircea's eyes after listening to her sister. She takes her hand in her own.
"Tell me, what is that you need my assistance with?"
"You must visit him and insist him on helping us."
"Yes, of course. I will visit him!"
"You have to start your journey for Gyyza in the morrow. I know it is haste, but we do not have much time. Take your special troop, do not make the mistake of trusting anyone blindly." Faustina warns her squeezing her hand tight, "You must bring him back with you, I will try and keep things under control here."
"He resides in Gyyza, meaning he is a witch. How can we trust a witch to heal our father?" Mircea is purely perplexed. While growing up, she was told that they have five enemies. The vampires, who were a rather bitter foe. Then came the werewolves, who were not any less insignificant and the other three, who were not a great threat.
The rouge demons, the furry dragons, and the quiet witches. Every enemy had its court with a ruthless king except for the Demons. The Demons have no land, no home, and no king. They are nothing but servants of chaos.
"Orpheus Daqx has requested King Diomedes to help us. He is still to answer our plea as the Witcher is his dear friend, but if he agrees to help us, an alliance is to be formed between the two kingdoms which will benefit us further." Faustina explains with patience. She looks down at the king, not in solicitude but something different.
"Oh.." It was a smart move but a risky one. Mircea would have never done it if her father's life was not at risk. It would have been apt if Faustina had waited for the king to recover. She cannot dare to imagine what they will do if King Diomedes denies to assist them. No matter what, she will have to convince the Witcher to come back with her.
"Well…" Mircea casts a brief look at her, trying to understand what is going on in her mind. She then looks at her father. They were never close. King Renomus always favoured his elder daughter more. Whenever the king looked at his younger daughter, he was reminded of his dead queen. King Renomus's love for his wife was mightier than the east sea. He never married another woman. After she died of a chronic illness, he kept himself busy with his duties as king.
The council had forced him to marry. According to them, the throne did not have an heir, but it was a new era for the kingdom. The rules were remodelled. Renomus made an exceptional rule- a woman could alone run the Kingdom of Slyve, she could be THE KING.
It was almost a decade ago. Everyone in the kingdom was astounded and some even declared the king mad. The disease of the crown had finally gotten to him, they said. The council did not go against his decision, but no one stood by him since then.
It is one of few things Mircea respected about him.
"Well, you should get going Mir, you have a lot to do. And I must talk with the council. I still do not trust them. Everyone knows you will be travelling so, pick your best mates and meet me before the sunrise in my quarters." Faustina rises on her feet, clasping her hands together. Mircea looks up at her sister. She can see a queen in her.
Faustina is destined to be a queen, the crown never even fit Mircea in the first place.
"I will summon them today itself. Yes, I know I cannot trust anyone except for you and father in the whole of Slyve. You needn't remind me of it." Lilith counts too, Mircea wanted to say it out loud further. She trusts Lilith with her life and the kingdom, but she dare not speak her name.
Faustina did not like Mircea trusting or leaning on anyone for support except for herself, even if Lilith was her best mate from childhood. Faustina had made her dislike for their friendship quite clear from the beginning.
Faustina does not say anything. She casts a last look at her father before stepping out of the room.
Mircea inspects the room; it had been the same for twenty years, and just in a month, it had changed drastically. She knew father would hate this, the smell, the arrangement of his medicines.
Everything was wrong with the situation but now she has a chance to right the wrong.
"I will bring the Witcher to you, father, I promise, I will! And he will make everything better. For you, for me and for our kingdom." Mircea holds her father's cold hand in her own.