Arna stood alone on the Vicente manor's training grounds, gripping her longbow, her expression cold and resolute. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns over her face, highlighting her proud, unwavering features. From a distance, Aaron watched her intently from behind a tree, his gaze thoughtful.
Though Arna was currently only at the silver rank, her natural talent and combat instincts already surpassed most warriors her age. If she were to give him her complete loyalty, she could become his sharpest weapon. But Aaron understood that a proud and fiercely independent half-elf like Arna would not surrender easily. Her stubbornness and guarded demeanor were clear signs that gaining her trust would require both time and skillful maneuvering.
"If all you're going to do is watch from afar, Lord Aaron, that seems a bit dull, doesn't it?" Arna suddenly paused in her practice, raising her gaze to him, her tone icy.
Aaron's lips curled in a faint smile as he approached her, his expression calm yet tinged with amusement. "Some battles rely not on weapons or arrows but on strength of will and resolve. To a true warrior, inner strength matters far more than raw power."
Arna raised an eyebrow, a hint of disdain in her eyes. "A nobleman's creed, is it?"
Ignoring her sarcasm, Aaron replied evenly, "No, simply my own belief." He paused, studying her carefully. "You're not here willingly, are you? You want freedom but doubt that I would ever give you the freedom you seek."
Arna was silent for a moment, then let out a bitter laugh. "As a slave, I know there's no such thing as freedom in my position."
"That's because you don't know me yet," Aaron replied, his gaze sharp. "I'm not looking for a slave, nor do I need someone filled with resentment. If I were only interested in beauty, there are plenty of 'obedient' slaves in the black market."
The coldness in Arna's eyes wavered slightly. Though she didn't trust him, she couldn't deny being surprised by the unexpected honesty in his words.
"Then tell me, Lord Aaron, how do you intend to prove your sincerity?" she challenged, looking at him intently.
Without answering directly, Aaron drew a short dagger from his coat and tossed it at her feet. The blade glinted in the sunlight, cold and sharp.
"Pick up the dagger. Attack me," Aaron commanded, his tone steady. "Show me your strength, and see if I'm true to my word."
For a moment, Arna was stunned, glancing between Aaron and the dagger on the ground. Her fists clenched involuntarily, and a surge of anger rose within her. Years of captivity had bred in her a deep hatred for nobles. No matter how different Aaron seemed, he was still the one controlling her fate.
"As you wish," she muttered coldly. She bent down, grabbed the dagger, and moved toward him with swift, fluid motions, the blade aimed directly at his throat.
Aaron didn't flinch, his gaze unwavering, tracking each of her movements with cold calculation. Arna's speed was impressive, her dagger tracing a silver arc through the air, fast and deadly.
Just as the tip was about to pierce his throat, Aaron raised a hand, gripping her wrist with unyielding strength, as if he had anticipated her every move. In one smooth motion, his other hand struck her shoulder, precise and unrelenting. Caught off guard, Arna staggered back slightly, her eyes burning with renewed determination.
"Again!" Aaron ordered, releasing her wrist, gesturing for her to continue.
Arna scoffed, her gaze fierce, and launched herself at him once more. The clash between them filled the training grounds, the sound of fists meeting flesh and the sharp swish of the dagger cutting through the air echoed around them. Despite her impressive speed, Aaron's vast combat experience allowed him to deflect each attack with ease, countering her moves with precision.
After several rounds, Arna finally faltered, her strength depleted. The dagger slipped from her grasp, clattering to the ground, and she stumbled back, sweat trickling down her forehead as her breathing grew ragged. She knew she'd lost—utterly and completely.
Aaron stood before her, his tone calm. "This is your current limit. With your strength now, you won't escape any noble's grasp, let alone attain the freedom you desire."
Arna bowed her head, her face pale with exhaustion. She knew he was right, but the bitter taste of defeat was hard to swallow.
"I won't force you to decide right away." Aaron's voice softened slightly, a hint of seriousness in his tone. "Over the next few months, I'll help you grow stronger, teach you how to surpass those who would enslave you. Then, you'll be free to choose—whether to stay or to leave."
Arna looked up, her gaze filled with complex emotions. She couldn't decipher his true intentions nor decide if she should trust him. But she understood that here, at least, she had a chance for training and growth unlike anything she had known.
"Would you really let me go?" she asked, her tone tinged with doubt, her gaze still wary.
Aaron's reply was as steady as ever. "If you have the power to escape anyone's control, then yes, I'll keep my word."
Arna held his gaze, as if searching for any hint of deception. At last, she seemed to glimpse a flicker of sincerity, something unshakable. She realized she had no other choice; for now, perhaps the only path forward was to accept his offer of training.
"Very well," she said softly, her voice laced with a subtle hint of resolve. "I'll accept your training."
Aaron nodded, a trace of satisfaction in his gaze. He knew that the seed of trust had been planted. Though it would take time and patience to nurture, he was willing to wait.
In the days that followed, Aaron began training Arna personally. Every morning, he took her through rigorous physical and combat drills on the training grounds, covering everything from archery and dagger combat to stealth techniques essential to a ranger. He held nothing back, pushing her relentlessly, even when she was exhausted, urging her to unlock her potential.
Though Arna often grumbled under her breath, she found herself gradually accepting Aaron's guidance. She saw that he was indeed teaching her every practical skill he knew, demanding only her progress and dedication.
Whenever frustration threatened to overtake her, Aaron's reminders were blunt and unwavering: "If you want freedom, you must become stronger. Only the weak accept their fate; the strong have the right to choose their future."
Through the relentless training, Arna's hostility toward Aaron began to wane. She started to see that he didn't merely view her as a slave but respected her abilities and genuinely aimed to make her stronger.