A boy with demonizing swervy rose-red hair unpopped a button from the collar of his tight Ruloy uniform.
He needed to be fit for swordsmanship, and currently he felt shaky and stagnant. His holy green eyes followed the trend, occasionally trembling at the edges from time to time before becoming as still as looming scarecrows.
Therefor, he had decided to take part in some last minute training.
Leonard Lionret slowly walked out to a deserted stone-laden stage.
His blade was heftily slung in a simple leather sheath on the right of his hip and his feelings were brittle.
He was all alone, and he would be for the few upcoming minutes of silence.
A duel was soon to take place.
Calmly and silently, Leonard withdrew his blade, a masterpiece of Elven Legacy that had been forged many Eras ago.
