Chapter - 20
"You should make your stance a bit more compact, your Highness. Also, raise your sword a bit higher to guard your upper body," Sir Edric Thalor, Knight Captain of the Royal Guard, instructed with his commanding yet patient voice. His presence was imposing, a figure of absolute authority clad in polished steel armor with a sword resting effortlessly in his hand. His steely brown eyes bore into me as he corrected my posture.
I adjusted my stance as he suggested, planting my feet more firmly into the training ground's dirt and raising the sword. I had asked Sir Edric to personally train me. The importance of mastering the sword in a world such as this wasn't lost on me, especially as a Tamer. Many abilities gained from bonded monsters enhanced physical capabilities like strength, speed, and endurance, making proficiency with weapons essential.
"Better, much better," Edric said, nodding in approval. "But remember, a good stance is only the beginning. Balance is the key. Without it, you'll find yourself flat on your back against an experienced opponent. Now, your Highness, please attack me."
I hesitated for a moment, gripping the hilt of the training sword tightly in my hands. The blade was made of dulled steel to ensure safety, but the weight still felt real.
I lunged forward, swinging the blade in a diagonal arc, aiming for Edric's left side. With a practiced ease that bordered on disdainful, he deflected my strike with a flick of his wrist, his own blade coming up to tap against my shoulder.
"Too wide, your Highness. That swing left your entire flank exposed. Try again, and focus on precision rather than power," he instructed, stepping back into a defensive stance.
Gritting my teeth, I tried again. This time, I aimed a quick thrust toward his chest, only for Edric to sidestep and bring his sword down lightly on my wrist. The impact wasn't enough to hurt, but it was a clear reminder of how easily he could disarm me.
"Better focus, but you're telegraphing your moves. A skilled opponent will read your intentions before you've even begun. Your feet are too static as well—move with purpose."
For the next couple of hours, Sir Edric drilled me relentlessly. He had me perform basic strikes, blocks, and parries over and over again. His critiques were sharp but constructive, each correction honing my technique just a little more. Occasionally, he demonstrated a technique himself, moving with such fluidity and precision that it was clear why he was the Knight Captain.
Sweat began to bead on my forehead, then drip down my face as the sun bore down on us. My tunic clung uncomfortably to my skin, soaked through with exertion. My strikes grew slower, my blocks less precise, but Edric showed no mercy. Every falter was met with another tap of his sword, another pointed remark.
"You're flagging, your Highness," he said, blocking my overhead swing effortlessly. "In a real battle, there are no breaks. Push through the fatigue."
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Edric lowered his sword and stepped back. "Enough for today," he said, his tone approving despite his usual stern demeanor. "You've made progress, though there is much work to be done. You have the spirit, but mastery will take time and perseverance. Remember, your enemies won't wait for you to perfect your form."
I nodded, breathing heavily as I leaned on my sword for support. My muscles burned, and my hands were sore from gripping the hilt so tightly. Despite the exhaustion, there was a sense of accomplishment simmering beneath it all. I had survived my first lesson with one of the most skilled swordsmen in the kingdom.
As soon as Edric left the training yard, Nimera appeared at my side, her feline grace as silent as ever. She was holding a soft towel in her hands, her expression a mix of concern and admiration. Without a word, she stepped closer and began dabbing the sweat from my brow and neck.
"You worked so hard, Master," she said softly, her green eyes shimmering with pride. "Sir Edric doesn't go easy on anyone, and yet you kept up. That's impressive."
Her touch was cool and soothing against my overheated skin, and I sighed in relief. "Thank you, Nimera," I said, offering her a tired smile.
She returned the smile, her cheeks flushing slightly as she handed me a tall glass of chilled lemon juice. "Here, drink this. It'll help you recover."
I took the glass gratefully, the tangy, refreshing liquid revitalizing me almost instantly. Nimera continued to fuss over me, ensuring I was comfortable before finally stepping back.
"Rest for a bit, Master," she said. "I'll prepare the bath for you in the meanwhile."
As I sat on a bench under the shade of a nearby tree, watching the late afternoon sun dip toward the horizon, I couldn't help but feel a sense of determination. This was only the beginning. I would master the sword, harness my feythar, and carve my place in this world.