Clang!
The metal swords collided into each other.
"Hmph!"
Mona jumped back, her sturdy leather boots grinding the gravel beneath. Her white tunic fluttered in the wind, and she steadied her footing.
She pulled her legs apart, stabilizing her posture. She gripped the sword's hilt tightly in her hands, and with a glint of excitement in those green eyes, she dashed forward. With all her might, she swung the sword over her head.
"Hyaa!"
Clang! Clang!
The duel continued with all its glory.
Silver Fangs.
The name given to the Duke's first squadron. Those knights had gathered around the training ground; some of them free from their own morning trainings and others just exploiting the opportunity of getting to witness the Duke's third daughter; Mona Haeyet. The young lady ambitiously sparred with their vice captain; Alen Grande. It was certainly a duel worth watching.
She abruptly ducked, and barely avoided the vice captain's blade.
Alen swung his sword, and she countered the attack by her own sword.
A smirk appeared on his face as he felt the thrill boiling his blood.
Clang! Clang!
Thud!
The princess had landed on her back. Alen towered over her with his sword at her throat, the blade inches away from her delicate skin.
Silence fell upon the audience.
Her heavy breaths were the only ones to break the silence. Though tired and sweaty, she had a grin on her face; an expression that made her features even more lively. In the shadow of the man hovering over her, her wide green eyes were glistening and her face was flushed. Around her head, laid her rich black curls, sprawled across the earth surface.
'Ethereal!'
A dangerous thought had flashed across Alen's young mind.
"I would have already been charged with treason if it were a real battlefield, my lady."
He said, his deep voice barely louder than a whisper.
A gust of chilly morning wind blew past them, making those chestnut brown hair of his flutter. His blue eyes refused to leave the lady's green ones.
As if they had casted an enchantment that had him utterly mesmerized.
"And I would have already been dead if it were a real battlefield, Sir Alen."
She watched the tip of his mouth twitch.
"How absurd! I will not let anyone touch a single hair on your head!"
She raised an eyebrow.
"Well, aren't you trustworthy, sir?"
She giggled and unknown to her, there were many hearts in the vicinity that had skipped a beat at that sight.
Alen muttered a profanity under his breath, and looked towards the unwanted audience.
He gave those idle knights a menacing glare that made a few of them flinch. They reluctantly decided to leave, a wise decision on their part for they did not wish to do a thousand push ups on an empty stomach.
"Whenever you are ready to let me go, Alen."
He looked back at her, and her words got him flustered.
"Ahem!"
He cleared his throat, a hint of awkwardness evident in his tone. He stepped away and sheathed his sword. The sapphire stone in its hilt gleamed under the morning sun.
He extended his hand out towards her. She grabbed it; her fingers fitting ever so perfectly around his. She allowed him to pull her up from the ground.
Her body ached, her muscles whining about the rough training she had put them through a little too early in the morning.
'A warm bath would do before eating Salina's pie!'
As if listening to her thoughts, her stomach grumbled loudly. Embarrassed, she placed a hand on her face.
"Please pretend that you haven't heard that, Alen."
He looked at her, the tips of her ears had turned red.
'Adorable...'
He raised his hand, but halted inches away from her head. He flexed his fingers, and retreated.
He dared not.
"I will do so, my lady."
"Thank you. I shall be going then!"
She waved at him, and then hurried across the ground and into the stone building that stood towering over it.
A gentle breeze blew past the knight who had been left behind.
He pushed his hair away from his eyes, revealing the trance that they were in as they dared not leave the trail the princess had walked down.
He clenched his fist, and pressed his forehead to his knuckles. A sigh left his lips.
"It was dangerous, Alen."
Knock! Knock!
The Duke looked up from the parchment in his hand. He sat behind his large wooden desk.
He glanced at the clock that hung on the wall just above the study's door. Just then, it stuck 8 in the morning.
"Come in."
He stroked his silvery white beard, and took off his round pair of glasses. He ran a hand through his unruly grey hair, a yawn escaping his tired lips.
The heavy wooden door was pushed open a little and a small head peaked inside through the crack. Searching green eyes glanced around the study before falling on him.
"Papa!"
A cheerful voice called for him, and a fond smile involuntarily found its way across his face, all his fatigue miraculously fleeing his body.
"If it isn't my lovely Zoey!"
He pushed his chair back.
"What brings you here this early in the morning?"
The young lady pushed the door open with both of her hands before stepping into the room. She was still dressed in her white night gown. The silk dress flowed down to her ankles, her feet bare like every other morning.
The Duke's fourth daughter was a timid little lady who was turning fourteen that winter. Still, she was not fond of speaking out loud and whining like her other siblings. One thing that she loved greatly was reading.
Knowledge. She had an unending thirst for it.
One could find her in the corner of the manor's colossal library with her little nose buried into the heaviest of the books the library had.
History, geography, language. No subject failed to amuse her.
"What's that you are holding, my love?"
He got up, and walked around the table. A rug made of the silver fox's hide was sprawled across the middle of the room, and he walked across it to reach his daughter.
Zoey looked at the book that she had been hugging close to her chest the entire time, and then up at her father. Haeyet watched those green eyes growing wide. They gleamed with an excitement that he had seen uncountable times before.
It was an excitement of having found a treasure.
"I found something, papa! Look!"
She rushed around him, and towards the sofa that laid under the study's window.She placed the book down on the table, and sat down on the rug with her legs crossed.
Her raven black curls fell in rich waves over shoulders, hugging her waist. Sitting there, hidden behind a curtain of her own locks, she looked smaller than she actually was.
Her father's gaze softened.
He came to sat down beside her, his legs crossed as well. Gently, he pulled her into his lap, and patted her small head.
He could not hide the love and fondness that his grey eyes held so vividly.
"So, what do you have to show me this time?"
She bent over, and opened the large book. She went through its worn out pages.
"This!"
She pointed at a paragraph that was written at the bottom of the page.
"I read this! The drought! It will be this year, papa!"
"Huh? This year, you say? How did you conclude that?"
He leaned closer to the table, and read the lines. Zoey watched him with restless and expectant eyes.
He read them, and then blinked his eyes. He picked the book up from the table, closer to his face. He turned the page back and forth. Zoey giggled at his astonished look.
"You are right! It's the drought that comes every 40 years! How could we forget about it? I must inform his Majesty and the ministers about it!"
His words were being uttered in a hurry, showing how surprised he was at the discovery.
"I'm glad that it was helpful, papa!"
She grinned and Haeyet immediately placed the book away. He wrapped his strong arms around her small shoulders.
'Oh, my lovely Zoey! The light of my life!'
He leaned back.
"You never cease to surprise me!"
He pressed his forehead against her.
"What wonders are you hiding in that small head of yours, my sweetheart?"
She grinned, showing her fleshy gums.
"I just read books, papa. It's no wonder."
He gently held a strand of her hair, and tucked it behind her ear.
"My daughter's a genius."
"Hehe."
Her laugh echoed in his soul, raising waves of affection, but along with it there was an unsettling thought that invaded his mind.
It was an unwanted thought that would haunt him every once in a while.
'They are too precious for this cold world, my precious little gems.'
Eyes stung with traitorous tears. He leaned down to place a soft kiss on her forehead.