In the dimly lit windmill tower, a group of teenagers gathered, sharing stories of the day's unforgettable events. Their voices rose and fell as they reminisced, the wind outside whispering through the cracks in the stone walls.
Brandon leaned back against the cold wall, arms folded behind his head, gazing out at the star-filled night sky. "Olivia is truly a genius with the sword," he murmured, his tone filled with genuine admiration.
His words weren't an exaggeration, Olivia's swordsmanship was something beyond their reach, and they all knew it.
"Yeah," Liam replied, his voice heavy with a quiet sadness as he thought of his missing sister. "If I had her skills, maybe... maybe I could protect my family."
A silence fell over the group, the weight of Liam's words settling in. Leon, always the optimist, was the first to break it, trying to lighten the mood. "You don't need to be as talented as Olivia. As long as you're determined, you'll get there. We're still young, and hard work can make up for talent."
Liam looked at Leon, appreciating the attempt at comfort. "You're right," he said with a small nod. "Maybe we should ask Olivia for some pointers tomorrow. Even if we don't have much time here, I feel like we could learn something valuable."
"She probably won't refuse," Leon agreed, rubbing his chin. "But let's be realistic; we've only got two days left. We're not going to become masters overnight."
Liam's eyes darkened as he stared at the ground, lost in thought. "My father used to say that just sparring with someone skilled can give you insights you'd never find on your own. I don't want to waste any opportunity to improve, not when every day matters."
Leon smiled and nudged him. "You've got the best swordsmanship out of all of us. How many moves do you think you could last against her?"
Liam raised an eyebrow, giving him a sheepish grin. "You're joking, right? I wouldn't last more than a few moves."
Leon chuckled, but before he could tease him further, the sound of wooden sticks clashing against one another echoed from beneath the windmill. Liam was already in the thick of it, his wrists held in check by Olivia's swift, precise movements.
Snap!
With a sharp crack, Olivia's wooden blade found its mark again, tapping Liam's wrist with just enough force to send a sting of pain through his arm. Any harder, and it could've easily broken something.
"Beautiful!" Leon called from the sidelines, clapping his hands in admiration. Under the tower's shadow, Olivia stood, her blonde hair catching the last light of the setting sun. She lowered her wooden sword and glanced at Liam, her emerald eyes calm and composed despite the effort.
"You want to take a break?" she asked kindly, her voice soft but strong.
Liam, breathing heavily, lowered his hands and sighed in relief. "Yeah... I think I could use one."
He was drenched in sweat, his limbs aching from the repeated sparring. The gap between his skills and Olivia's was staggering, she was in a completely different league.
Leon stepped forward, offering Liam a cloth to wipe his face. "Learn anything new from all that?" he teased.
Liam laughed weakly, wiping his brow. "Well, I learned how to take a hit. But you've been standing around long enough, why don't you take a turn?"
Leon grinned, taking the wooden sword from Liam. "I'd love to, but I wouldn't want to tire her out." He looked at Olivia, who still stood there as if she hadn't broken a sweat. "Thanks for humoring us, Olivia. I know you've got better things to do."
Olivia shook her head with a smile. "This is hardly tiring. It's much more fun than farm work."
Her response was genuine. In the village, there was hardly anyone who could match her skill in swordsmanship, let alone spar with her. It was a rare chance for her to practice with others, and she relished it.
Leon squared his shoulders and took up his position in front of her, gripping the wooden sword tightly in his hands. He tried to relax, shaking out his arms as he got into stance. "Ready?" Olivia asked, her smile turning playful as she raised her stick again.
"Ready," Leon replied, focusing all his attention on her posture. He knew better than to watch her hands, he'd learned from previous attempts that her strikes were too fast to track. This time, he kept his eyes on her shoulders and feet, hoping to anticipate her movements.
He knew he wouldn't stand a chance in a real fight, but even just landing one hit would feel like a victory.
Determined, Leon made the first move.
Leon stepped forward, leading with his left leg in a feint, and then shifted half a step to the side, accelerating as he moved. His wooden stick swung through the air with all the force he could muster, each muscle tensed with determination. There was no room for hesitation or mercy, not against Olivia. To even think of holding back against her would be an insult to her incredible skill, and to himself.
The wooden stick slashed diagonally toward Olivia, but Leon kept his focus on her shoulders, waiting for the slightest movement.
There!
In that split second, Olivia moved. Without a moment to think, Leon shifted his weight and turned his body with as much speed as he could summon. He gripped the stick tightly with both hands, altering the angle of his strike from left to right, hoping to catch her off guard. The stick arced downward, aimed precisely where he thought she would be.
But she wasn't there.
Leon's strike sliced through empty air, missing its target entirely. Olivia, moving with the grace of a dancer, had already sidestepped his attack, slipping effortlessly to his side. He barely had time to register her movement before the tip of her wooden stick lightly touched his neck, a chilling reminder of how easily he could have been defeated.
With a fluid motion, she withdrew her stick and stepped back, retreating to his left, leaving him frozen in place. Leon knew that in a real fight, that touch would have meant a clean slash across his throat, an instant, decisive end.
He sighed heavily, raising his hand in defeat. "I surrender," he admitted, more frustrated with himself than anything. Liam may have been better than him, but Olivia was on an entirely different plane of mastery.
Leon lowered his stick and turned to her, his voice tinged with curiosity. "How did you get around me so easily? Did you see through my plan from the very beginning?"
He couldn't help but wonder, had she known that he was going for a reckless, all-or-nothing attack? It was a strategy born from desperation, one that his old sword-fighting instructor had always frowned upon. Deliberately throwing yourself into a double-kill scenario in practice was never a real victory; it was a shortcut that ignored the true purpose of technical skill.
Yet, even when Leon resorted to that desperate tactic, he hadn't even come close to landing a hit on her.
What stung the most wasn't the failure itself, but the way Olivia had handled him, with effortless ease, almost as if she hadn't even broken a sweat.
Olivia smiled modestly, pointing at the ground with her stick. "It wasn't anything complicated," she began, her voice calm and patient. "I noticed from your first step that your weight was off. Even though you shifted left, your body was still pulling to the right. So no matter where you tried to go after that; forward, backward, left, or right; you were already limiting your options."
She spoke with such clarity that it made Leon feel even more inadequate. Her understanding of movement and positioning went far beyond anything he had grasped.
"I just followed your momentum," she continued. "Once you committed to that rightward attack, it was easy for me to circle around and take the opening you left on your left side."
Leon stood there, absorbing her words, replaying the moment in his mind. She had read him from the very first step, and everything after that had played into her hands. He couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and frustration.
Olivia, sensing his mood, looked a little embarrassed. "I can slow down next time, if that helps. I'm not used to teaching... I usually just practice on my own, so I'm not always sure how to explain things."
Leon smiled and waved her off, grateful for her humility. "You've taught me more than enough, Olivia. If we don't get it, it's on us, not you."
They returned to their positions, raising their wooden sticks once more. Determined not to give up, Leon took a deep breath and prepared himself for the next round. The sound of wood clashing against wood echoed beneath the windmill tower as they sparred again.
Again and again, Leon found himself bested; whether it was beheading, a severed arm, a chest pierced through, each strike from Olivia was precise, and every outcome spelled his defeat. If these were real blades, he and Liam would have perished a hundred times over. And yet, no matter how hard they tried, neither of them could land even a single blow on her.
When the day's sparring finally came to an end, Leon, despite his exhaustion and bruised pride, smiled and handed Olivia the beautifully crafted dwarven steel sword they had brought with them. It was their way of thanking her for her time and guidance. As Olivia accepted the sword, her emerald eyes lit up with curiosity and appreciation, though she remained humble as ever.
"You've helped us more than you know," Leon said, bowing his head slightly. "We owe you."
Olivia smiled softly in return, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of the sword. "It was my pleasure," she replied, her voice sincere. "Anytime."
The three men, bruised and worn from countless rounds of sparring, sat slumped against the rough stone wall of the windmill. They caught their breath, watching the blonde girl, Olivia, gracefully practicing her sword moves in the fading light. Despite their exhaustion, they couldn't help but admire her skill, marveling at the effortless way she moved as though the sword were an extension of her body.
As they rested, the conversation turned to their impending departure.
"Are you really leaving the day after tomorrow?" Olivia asked, lowering the beautiful sword in her hand and glancing at the three travelers with a tinge of sadness in her emerald eyes. In just a few short days, she had grown fond of these outsiders, and the thought of them leaving so soon tugged at her heart.
Leon sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, we've already bought everything we need for the journey. If we stay any longer, I'm afraid your father won't be too happy with us." His tone was light, but there was a hint of frustration beneath it.
Olivia pouted, crossing her arms and resting her chin on her hand. "Oh, my father can be such a fool sometimes." She shook her head, clearly frustrated. She truly couldn't understand why her father was so wary of them. They'd been nothing but kind to the village and had caused no trouble, yet he treated them like a threat.
Still, she brightened after a moment, clapping her hands together with sudden excitement. "Tell you what! Get up early tomorrow morning, and I'll come by to teach you some new moves. I've come up with a few sword techniques of my own that I can show you. Consider it a parting gift."
Leon's face lit up at the offer. "That sounds fantastic. But, uh… please don't go too hard on us tomorrow!" he joked, though there was a trace of genuine concern in his voice, knowing how formidable she was.
After a bit more chatting, Olivia returned the sword to Leon and bid them farewell, the soft glow of the setting sun casting a golden hue over her as she walked back toward the village, humming a cheerful tune. For a moment, all seemed peaceful, and the day's sparring left her in high spirits.
But as soon as Olivia reached her home, her mood soured. Standing in her path was Boris, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"You've been spending a lot of time with those outsiders lately," Boris sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Olivia's expression instantly turned icy. She had no patience for Boris and his petty jealousy. He was nothing more than a troublemaker in her eyes. "What does it matter to you?" she shot back, not even bothering to look directly at him as she brushed past.
Boris bristled at her dismissive attitude, turning to follow her. "I heard you let them stay in the old mill. You do realize the village trusted your father with the key, right? It's not for handing out as charity to suspicious strangers!" His voice rose, laced with indignation. "When my father gets back, I'll make sure he knows about this."
Olivia stopped in her tracks and sighed, turning just enough to give him a weary look. "That mill has been abandoned for years, Boris. Besides, other travelers have stayed there before. Why are you making a fuss now? They're leaving the day after tomorrow anyway."
She turned to leave again, but after a few steps, she paused, her voice colder as she added without looking back, "Let me give you some advice. Even if I didn't care about your pathetic behavior the other day, you should know that with your mediocre skills, any one of those three could kill you without even breaking a sweat. Don't be stupid, Boris. Don't get yourself into trouble."
She didn't wait for his response, continuing down the path and leaving him behind. In truth, Olivia felt a bit of pity for Boris, his father, Uncle Tom, was a decent man, respected by the village. But Boris… he was a different story. Still, she hoped her warning would keep him from doing anything reckless.
Boris stood there, his face twitching with rage. His fists clenched at his sides as he watched her retreating figure disappear around the corner. He reached into the bulging paper bag he carried, his eyes narrowing as he muttered under his breath, "It was meant for you, you little witch. But if I can get my hands on that sword, I'll make sure they pay for it…"
He glanced toward the hillside where the old mill stood in the distance. With a final, malicious grin, Boris turned and headed home. His father, after all, was a village official, and surely he'd have a key to the mill somewhere in his room.