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The early morning sun bathed the training grounds in a golden glow, casting long shadows from the towering trees that lined the edges of the field. Argider stood nervously in the center, surrounded by her three wives—Elira, Faeralys, and Fialova—all eyeing her with varying degrees of skepticism and amusement.
"This is a disaster waiting to happen," Argider muttered under her breath, already regretting the idea of a group training session.
"You dragged us out here, Your Majesty," Faeralys snapped, folding her arms over her chest. Her crimson hair gleamed in the sunlight, her fiery temper already simmering beneath the surface. "You better not waste my time."
"Elira started this madness," Argider retorted, pointing at her first wife.
Elira rolled her eyes. "I just wanted to teach you magic. You're the one who insisted on inviting these two."
