As soon as Libelle had gained enough strength, her training began. To his expectation, she would whine to him as they ran through the city together. He encouraged her the entire time, yet she would huff and puff, exhausted after just a short distance. Over time however, through running and strengthening exercises, she gained energy. She didn't fatigue as fast, and she'd reached a point where Gaalin felt comfortable enough to introduce sword play.
For days, weeks, months, they practiced. Sparring against one another in the courtyard, hunting in the neighboring lands, traveling, and honing all the skills he could teach her. For years, she took her time learning from him and every single man and woman that the King sent to her.
For those years, she fought every single day. She fought with blade and bow, fists, and magic. She would fight, even after being gravely injured. Some days she would collapse in the courtyard, exhausted after swinging her blade against her instructors for hours. Other times she would crumble, bleeding from a wound when she failed to defend herself against them.
For an average person, the amount of training that she was put through would bring someone close to death. Yet with enough food and rest, she was ready to resume the following morning. She practiced and practiced, until one day, two years after they had met, she surpassed her instructors, she surpassed Gaalin. He felt so proud of her that day, the day that she had knocked him back, striking his sword from his grasp and holding her own to his throat while he laid panting on the stone ground.
Shortly after her success, the King ordered her to travel. Not for a vacation, not for anything that would be relaxing or fun. No, now she had to continue her training outside of their land. She had been tasked to travel the lands beyond Edinburgh, to dispose of the roaming bandits that plagued their lands. To learn from other sword masters and mages. To meet and learned from the priests of Uppsala. The priests who knew so much of the long war, the priests who knew the best way, to slay a dragon.
So, she and Gaalin roamed the lands, fighting bandits as they encountered them. Assisting peasants as they found the need. Hunting for their meals, camping in the wilderness, and hardly ever spending a night within the confines of a city of village. They spent a year within the wilderness, a year before they reached the great mountains where Uppsala was built upon. A large temple, home to just a few priests devoted solely to the Aesir, the Gods and Goddesses that Gaalin hardly believed in. There, he found himself sitting idly by while the priests escorted her to a secluded place. Every day, they would wake them both very early in the mornings, provide a simple meal, and then guide her down a hallway where he was forbidden from following. They spent another year with the priests, and he was never truly aware of what she was learning from them.
Every evening, she returned exhausted. She would never tell him what she was doing, what she was learning. Yet she'd return to their quant room, falling onto the bed with sigh. Most nights, she would drift off into sleep without ever consuming her dinner. Whatever it was that the priests were teaching her, it was making her stronger. The one day that the priests gave her to rest, Gaalin would spar with her. Even though she had surpassed him in skill, he had thought he could at least provide her someone to improve herself with. Yet every time they clashed weapons; he would lose.
She was excellent, and he was so proud of her.
Four years, four years after they'd met. Libelle had transformed from a timid and fragile child, into a beautiful young woman. She'd blossomed like a flower, growing taller where she almost stood at eye level with him. Her soft features maturing, with long lashes and plump lips. A slender waist fit with an apple shaped bottom, and large bosom. She moved so elegantly, as if she were grace itself. She had become a mesmerizing beauty, a beauty that other women looked at with envy, and men stared at in awe and lust.
Gaalin had become her housecarl, her servant, her guard, her companion, and confidant. He'd become her friend, the person she sought out to for comfort; and she had become his world.
Despite their travels, despite the four years they'd spent together, and the two years being away from the home gifted to them in Edinburgh, they had to return. Even though they were so far away, a troop of warriors had reached them all the way at Uppsala. On behalf of the new King of Edinburgh, they demanded that she return. Gaalin was surprised when they arrived at the temple, pounding upon the doors. They had traveled there, shortly after the fat bastard's youngest son had claimed the throne.
They spoke of how the bastard king seemingly lost his mind, making demands and orders that were utterly insane. He had placed his entire kingdom at risk, risk of disease and annihilation from the worlds map. He was sending people to their deaths and preparing to send even more to an ill fate.
They'd learned along the return trip to the home in Edinburgh, that the only surviving son of the corrupt man had finally had enough. He had traveled with the warriors, and he had almost lost his life numerous times at the command of his father. So, he challenged him, demanding that he duel with him for a fight for the throne. Obviously, the old man lost the fight and then his life.
Now, the son sat upon the throne and was making an honorable effort to right the wrongs his father had made. He'd only been the lord of the land for a short period before he faced potential ruin.
Dragons.
They had been sighted around Edinburgh, soaring high in the skies around the city as if they were preparing for an ambush. It was unlike dragons to pass over the land of man so frequently, and to never make an attack. It was a matter of time at this point.
When would the dragons attack? What would they have the dragon slayer do?