Silence lingers as Eel watches the marvel that unfolds before him. Æsà was close, too close to him. He didn't listen to what she said, but he knew her voice had a melody around it he enjoyed.
"Are you even listening, young lord?" she asks, kneeling on top of him.
Eel stares at her face, her lips neatly parted. Her teeth glisten in the winter cold. "I'm not sure I understand. What were you saying?"
"I said you focus too much on my stance. That's why you end up getting flipped all the time."
Eel felt the cold cushion of the snow slowly send chills up his spine. He smiled at her, reaching for her locks as he replied, "Maybe I'm just distracted by how beautiful you are."
Æsà gets off him and walks away. "I don't like when you say things like that, Eel," she says. "There's already whispering amongst the cadets about my increased personal time with you."
Eel jumps off the ground. He dusts off the snow and moves towards her slowly. "Why do you care what they say? We both know you just help with my training, and I thank you for it."
"Yes, but… you know how your gender is. I'm the only female candidate that made it into the academy this batch. There's always talk amongst you boys," Æsà responds, walking towards him. She faces him squarely before stretching out her hands. "Now, again. Come at me with all your might."
Eel curses before placing his fists out and taking his stance opposite her. They circle one another, their eyes locked in wait for who would make the first move. Eel dodges as she lunges at him with her fist. He weaves her blows, moving backward as he blocks her sequence with his hands. He watches her hands, waiting for his moment to strike like she so often cautions him. He throws a punch aiming for her head as it sways across from her fists. She catches it, moving into him and tossing him over her shoulder and onto his back. He tries to get up but she throws a kick to his face, pausing slightly before it lands on his cheeks.
"I yield!" he yells, raising his hands to surrender. "Sometimes I think you like tossing me around."
Æsà laughs, holding her hands out to help him up. Eel stares at her as she pulls him to his feet. Her hands were so soft, nothing like the hands of the assassin he had realized she was.
The door cranks open, and Oriòn walks into the garden. Æsà lets go of Eel's hand, flustered by his sudden entrance. He stares at them for a while, his eyes always searching for something.
"Captain!" they both yell, saluting him.
"At ease, cadets," he replies. "How's training going?" he asks, smiling at Æsà.
"Well, he's no assassin yet, but I'd say Eel could hold his own in an average fight right now." Æsà looked different when she spoke to Oriòn. Her face was blank, no smiles, just the oblique expression of a soldier.
"Well, after the last five weeks, I'd say I'm slightly better at not getting tossed by Æsà," Eel says. "Any news on the combat festival? Did Nògù get eaten on duty?" he asks Oriòn, laughing as he walks towards the tree in the garden.
"Wishing the Prince death is treason, my lord," Æsà replies, cracking a subtle smile in her stuck-up demeanor.
"Well, we are related. I get a pass on that kind of stuff."
Oriòn walks towards him, shaking his head. "The festival is in three weeks. You better make peace with it. You and your cousin will compete against each other," he says, holding Eel by his shoulder.
"I know, I know. I just... What if I fail? What if all this time and effort is wasted?" Eel asks.
Oriòn walks away from Eel as he speaks. He walks towards Æsà, turning suddenly to throw his knife straight at Eel. Eel dodges away as the knife stabs into the tree, splitting the wooden surface and burying itself into its stem.
Eel looks at Oriòn, shocked. Æsà's mouth is also parted as he yells out to Oriòn, "Are you serious, Captain? What if I didn't dodge that?"
"What if you didn't dodge that? That's the answer to your question on if this is a wasted effort," Oriòn responds. "No knowledge is wasted, young lord. And I, for one, am proud of your progress. I did not think you would learn so rapidly." Oriòn walks towards Eel with a smile spread across his face. "Now pick up your sword and practice your form," he commands.
Eel grumbles as he hears this. Oriòn had made him start this at the beginning of his training. It started with a swing. He practiced one swing repeatedly, slashing and swiping till Oriòn decided he had perfected the technique. Every day, he learned a new swing technique, practicing the new one and the one from the previous days. They did that every day for the last three months. Last month he had started teaching him sequences, combining each swing into a fluid form of expression.
"Let's get to it then," Oriòn says. "And I'm adding a new layer of depth to it."
Eel knows that can't be good news. "What new layer?" he asks.
"Take off your shirt," Oriòn says to Eel.
Æsà turns around, shocked by the request. "I'm sorry, but why, captain?" she asks.
"Yes, captain, why do you want me to freeze to death?" Eel says, almost yelling at Oriòn.
"It is for your own good, Eel. Don't you trust me anymore?" replies Oriòn.
Eel grumbles as he paces across the snow. "Okay, give me a second," he says, taking off his shirt. His eyes meet with Æsà's. She smiles at him as he shows off his budding physique.
"Now practice your forms," Oriòn commanded.
Eel felt the cold pangs of winter dig into his bare chest. He swings his sword, practicing the techniques he had honed for the last few months.
Oriòn walks around Eel as he practices. "You can't get too comfortable in combat. You have to be able to adapt to different terrains and extreme conditions. For the next stage of your training, I want you to practice your swings bare till you can't swing anymore."
Eel felt the chills ramp up as the snowy winds picked up the pace in the garden. "I'm freezing," he says, his teeth clattering through his speech.
"Yes, you are. But you will keep going, Eel. Try to control your breathing and focus only on your swings," Oriòn replies. "Don't stop swinging! Not for the cold, not for anything. In battle, you don't stop till you are dead."
Eel swings on as he listens. He stares at his sword. Its metal hilt felt frozen against his hands. He tries to do what Oriòn says, focus on his breathing, and swing into different forms. It worked for a moment. He could feel his motions form a subtle bubble of heat around him as he moved into his techniques.
"Good, good," Oriòn mutters. "Focus on your technique. If you can do that in this terrible cold, you can do it in the large arena. You can do it in the heat of war. You can do it anytime and anywhere."
Eel practices the forms, slashing and swiping the air around him. "Focus," he thinks to himself as he weaves through the cold air. His shoulders began to sting. He could feel his body losing the battle against the weather, but still, he swung his sword with all his might. He had hated to admit it, but he was beginning to love the lessons. Hard as it might be, he loved the new life he lived. Training alongside the cadets and Oriòn had helped him out of his shell of doubt and anxiety. This wasn't about the festival anymore to him. He wanted to be the best warrior he could be. He wanted to fight alongside Oriòn and the squad. He wanted to be seen as the true cub of the leopard.
The cold air clamped against his skin now. He could feel his legs wanting to give out beneath him. "Keep going," he thought to himself. "Keep going till you can't go anymore." Eel swings into his form faster as he thinks of this, slashing through the air and aiming for the snowdrops that fall around him.
"Yes, my boy," Oriòn says. "Keep going till you break your boundary. Go, Eel. Be the leopard, be the savage."
Eel yells as the cold begins to drive into him. He screams at the top of his voice, breaking into new forms and techniques that he had imagined and practiced in his mind. "Yes!!" he yells out loud. Screaming at the top of his lungs before falling into the snow and panting.
Æsà runs towards him. "Are you okay, my lord?" she asks, kneeling beside him before placing his head on her thighs.
Eel cuddles into her. His eyes blur as Oriòn walks to him. He smiled at him, wondering what he thought about his moves. "I'm at my limit," he murmurs, shivering in Æsà's hands.
"Put on your clothes and head for a dip in the hot springs," Oriòn responds.
Æsà tries to help him up but isn't allowed to by Oriòn. "Let him get himself up and warm," he commanded coldly.
Æsà lets go of Eel, stands up, and salutes Oriòn. "May I take my leave now?" she asks, her worry well written all over her face. It was nice to know she also cared for Eel so much.
"Yes, you may," replies Oriòn.
Æsà walks away from a folded-up Eel. He watches her as she opens the door. He was shivering all over, but he wanted to steal a glance at her as she left the garden. "Good luck," she whispers to him as she closes the door, leaving him alone with Oriòn.
Oriòn yells to him, "Get up, soldier. The training ends when you get to the springs at the other end of the fortress without your clothes on, Eel."
Eel couldn't believe what he heard. The hot springs were beneath the fortress and would take him too long to reach.
"Get up, Eel, before you pass out from all the cold."
Eel musters his strength as he shivers in the snow. He gets up on his feet, clamping himself with his hands. "I hate you," he whispers to Oriòn, watching as his breath gasses out his mouth.
"Get going, young lord," Oriòn commands.
Eel calls to Nymèŕa. The leopard pops his head out of the burrow he had dug out at the end of the garden. Nymèŕa had grown large in the past few months, his ginger fur crisscrossing the black spots that scattered on him. "Let's go," he says. Nymèŕa pounces towards him. Eel bends down to pick up his shirt from the snow. He smiles as Nymèŕa bumps into him, warming him with his padded fur. "Good boy," Eel says, rubbing his pumpkin-sized head as they both begin to walk slowly toward the springs.
"Don't forget, Eel. We will go again tomorrow, harder. Every day till the day of the tournament," Oriòn says to him as they reach the edge of the fortress.
The guards there salute Oriòn. They open the door for a shivering Eel as he begins his descent to the springs with Nymèŕa. "You are not coming?" he asks.
"No, I don't like dipping with the leopard," Oriòn replies, staring at Nymèŕa.
"Don't mind him, baby," Eel says, rubbing Nymèŕa's head as they both walk towards the hot water spring beneath the fortress.