"After the incident in the woods, Florã was urgently summoned before the King. Standing before the throne, she recounted every detail of what she had discovered, her words measured yet laced with awe. The King, his eyes cold and calculating, listened intently, his expression unwavering as she spoke of the swords. Once she finished, the King's voice broke the silence, deep and commanding: 'You have uncovered something truly extraordinary. I will have this sent to our royal smith for further examination.'
'As you wish, Majesty,' Florã replied, bowing respectfully.
But as her words faded, the King's demeanor shifted. His face grew taut, the weight of impending decisions reflected in his gaze. 'Do you know anything of magic, Florã?' he asked, his tone darkening.
Florã hesitated, then answered, 'No, Majesty. I have been told that only a select few can wield magic in this world—those with rare bloodlines. You, of course, are one of them... as is my father, Elbert le Wemodious.'
The King nodded slowly, his expression hardening with purpose. 'I see. It seems that today is the day we test your potential. I've already informed the people at the church. They will begin preparations immediately.'"
After the royal smith took possession of both twin swords, Florã was escorted by several knights to the church for her safety. As she entered the grand hall, the air was heavy with the scent of incense, and towering stained glass windows cast vibrant, fragmented rays of light across the stone floor. A woman stepped forward to greet her, her robes flowing gracefully as she bowed.
"I am Nowara," the woman introduced herself, her voice soft yet commanding. "Young lady, I am here to assess your magical potential. Please, follow me."
They proceeded into a vast chamber, its high ceiling supported by columns adorned with statues of ancient gods—each figure frozen in a pose of eternal reverence. In the center of the room, atop a stone table, rested a white orb. Nowara turned to Florã, her expression solemn.
"God of Light, God of Fire, God of Water, God of Creation," Nowara began, her voice low but steady, as if speaking an ancient prayer. "Please bless us with your power, and grant us the knowledge to recognize a wielder of magic."
She turned to Florã. "Florã le Wemodious, our young lady, please place your hand upon this enchanted orb."
With a deep breath, Florã extended her hand and touched the orb. The moment her fingers made contact, the room seemed to change. The air grew thick, the once warm light dimming as a dark mist began to swirl around them. The orb, once glowing with a soft, pure light, transformed before their eyes, turning as black as a moonless night—its surface seeming to absorb all light around it, casting an ominous shadow over the room.
Nowara staggered back, her eyes wide with shock, and Florã, sensing the change in the atmosphere, asked, "What happened? Is everything all right, Nowara?"
Nowara, regaining her composure, nodded slowly, though her voice trembled. "Yes, young lady. We will report this immediately to King Carlos."
Florã's heart raced with uncertainty. "Am I... am I a magic user?"
Nowara hesitated, her eyes narrowing with a mixture of caution and uncertainty. "I cannot say for certain, young lady, not yet. But... there is no cause for alarm. You are safe."
She then turned to the knights who had accompanied them. "Take the young lady back to the castle," she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Florã was lost in thought as she made her way back to Castle Florã, the unsettling image of the black mist lingering in her mind. Why had her room transformed like that? What was wrong with her magic? And most importantly, what was Nowara hiding from her?
As she entered the castle, the weight of uncertainty pressed down on her chest. She made her way straight to the throne room, determined to find answers. Her footsteps echoed in the grand hall, but the closer she got to the king, the heavier her doubts grew.
Upon reaching the king, Florã bowed respectfully, her voice tinged with concern. "Majesty, I don't know what is happening. May I have the honor of knowing what is wrong with my magic essence?"
The king, sitting tall and imperious, met her gaze. "Ah, I had a conversation with the woman who assessed your magic. She believes you might be a magic user, but there was an issue with the magical ball. Until that is resolved, we won't have any clear answers."
Florã's eyes narrowed. She could tell the king was lying, but she knew better than to confront him directly. His authority was too vast, and questioning him could have dire consequences. Instead, she kept her composure, bowing once more.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," she said, her voice calm but her mind racing. She had asked for his help, but now she was left with more questions than answers. She had to find another way to uncover the truth, and fast. Something wasn't right, and she couldn't shake the feeling that Nowara was at the center of it all.
As Florã left the throne room, her thoughts turned inward. She would have to dig deeper, even if it meant going behind the king's back. But for now, patience was her only ally. The truth would reveal itself soon enough.
As Florã continued to swing the twin wooden swords with grace and precision, each strike a testament to her years of training, she was lost in her own focus. The rhythmic sound of the wood cutting through the air was soothing, but her thoughts kept returning to the strange events surrounding her magic. That unsettling black mist, the king's cryptic words, and Nowara's strange behavior—all weighed on her mind.
Suddenly, a slow, deliberate clapping sound broke through her concentration. Florã's heart skipped a beat, and instinctively, she spun around with a fluid motion, the twin swords held in defensive positions. She hadn't sensed anyone's presence. Whoever it was, they were no ordinary person.
Standing a few paces away, a tall figure in royal armor clapped his hands in admiration. "Woow, that's quite a unique way to use twin swords. Such an amazing art, it feels like a god dancing with a sword."
The voice was smooth and authoritative, but there was an underlying power in it that sent a chill through Florã. She could sense something far beyond what her senses could usually detect. There was an aura of invincibility around this person.
Her body tensed, a mixture of fear and respect. "Can I know who you are?" she asked, her tone steady but wary.
The figure stepped forward with a graceful bow, the gesture formal and respectful. "Young master, I am General Commander Cimon, of the Royal Knights. I've come on the king's orders to speak to you about the examination for the Royal Knights."
Florã's mind quickly processed the information. So, the king had already made up his mind about her. He was willing to hide her identity behind the examination, perhaps as a way to conceal her true abilities and intentions. A slight smile tugged at the corner of her lips, her mind racing with new possibilities.
"It would be my pleasure to hear about the examination, General," Florã replied, bowing slightly in return. Her words were respectful, but her thoughts were elsewhere. The king is making his move—again. The smile remained as she added, "If you may agree, I would like to change into something more appropriate for this discussion. My training clothes are... not quite fitting for such an important conversation."
Cimon gave a respectful nod. "Of course, young master. I'll await your return."
As Florã turned to leave the training grounds to change, she couldn't shake the feeling that this meeting—like everything else—was part of a larger game. But she would play along for now. The examination was a chance to prove herself ..
After changing into a more fitting and formal outfit, Florã stepped outside, her every movement deliberate and measured. She walked toward General Cimon, who was standing by a small seating area, and gestured for him to sit.
"Please, General," Florã said, her tone polite but cool. "Make yourself comfortable."
As the general sat, Florã gave a nod to a maid nearby, who promptly brought over tea and a tray of sweets. The atmosphere was calm, almost cordial, but there was an underlying tension that neither of them acknowledged overtly. Florã was aware that every interaction, especially with someone of Cimon's rank, had its own subtle dynamics.
Cimon, as he looked at Florã, couldn't help but comment, "Our young master seems quite kind. It's not what I expected."
Florã, in her guise as a male, smiled slightly and replied in a playful yet veiled tone, "Isn't that what you expected, General Cimon?" The words were innocent enough, but the underlying implication was sharp. She tilted her head, making sure to keep the conversation light, yet laced with an edge. "I didn't think someone of your experience would say such things to a boy like me. After all, I still am a boy. I must be nice, don't you think? Isn't that correct, General?"
The general blinked, clearly taken aback by Florã's tone. Her words, though seemingly harmless, carried an air of deception, as though she was intentionally steering the conversation into unfamiliar waters.
Cimon's cheeks flushed slightly as he realized his misstep. "My apologies, young master," he said quickly, trying to recover. "I wasn't paying attention to my manners. I thought... well, I thought that wouldn't suit you."
Florã's smile widened just a fraction, her eyes sharp. "You're quite good with your observations, General," she said, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of approval. The compliment, while polite, was a subtle reminder that she was aware of every shift in their conversation. She enjoyed watching him squirm—if only slightly.
Cimon nodded, his face betraying a touch of discomfort. There was something about Florã—his demeanor, his words, even his presence—that unsettled him. Is he really a boy? The thought lingered in his mind, the more he interacted with Florã. There was something far beyond youthfulness in that gaze, something that felt as though it were double the age of the person before him.
Still, he kept his composure, adjusting himself in his seat. "You're quite sharp, young master," he said with a smirk, a mixture of respect and curiosity playing on his face. "I didn't expect you to be so... perceptive."
Florã, ever the actor, maintained her calm, offering a small, almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment. "Thank you, General. If I may, we can now proceed with the main topic, yes? I'm sure you're quite busy, given your position. I wouldn't want to waste your time."
General Cimon's smirk deepened, though his mind was still trying to figure out Florã. This doesn't feel like a typical boy. There's something else here. He couldn't quite place it, but the way Florã spoke, his confidence, the maturity in his eyes—it all gave Cimon the impression that he was talking to someone who was much older, more seasoned, than he appeared.
As the conversation shifted back to the examination, Florã listened intently, her eyes steady, hiding the depth of her thoughts behind a calm expression. General Cimon, still unaware of the full truth, continued speaking with a mix of authority and respect, detailing the various stages of the trial ahead.
"Yes, of course, we can talk about the examination," he began, his voice carrying a hint of pride. "The process is divided into several parts. First, we'll test your physical strength—how well you handle weapons, how long you can endure under pressure. The second part is the way you battle, your tactics, and your knowledge of strategy. But that's not all..."
Florã remained silent, listening closely, though her mind was already piecing together the larger picture. Cimon, oblivious to the deeper layers of this conversation, continued.
"After these tests," he said, leaning forward slightly, "there's a special examination for the chosen ones. These individuals are treated with more attention, given more intense training, and their trials are much harder. Only 20 people will be allowed to participate in the final stage. If there are more than 20 participants, there will be a power test using a magical tool to measure strength."
Florã's mind briefly flickered with interest at the mention of a magical tool, but she masked it quickly, not allowing Cimon to see any hint of curiosity. Magic—her magic—was something they didn't understand yet. But she would use that to her advantage when the time came.
Cimon paused, taking a breath before continuing. "In the chosen ones' exam, those 20 individuals will fight against each other in one-on-one matches. One fight per day, and after 10 days, only 10 will remain. The final test is the most... mysterious. It takes place in the holy shrine, where the gods themselves come to test the candidates."
Florã's expression remained calm, but internally, she perked up at the mention of the gods. The holy shrine. A test by the gods themselves? It was not something she had heard about before, but it was clear this was a rare and crucial part of the selection process.
"The gods," Cimon continued, "will come to test you. We don't have full information on what the gods test for, but we do know they test hatred and potential. If you harbor hatred, there's a chance you might fail the test. However, even if you fail the god's test, you can still join the Royal Knights, though you will be treated as a normal knight, not among the elites."
Florã's lips curled into a faint, unreadable smile. Hatred and potential? She had neither to worry about. Her potential was far beyond any test, and hatred? That was a tool she had long since controlled. But the gods—this part intrigued her. She was curious to know what sort of god would come to test her.
Cimon's voice lowered slightly, as if he were revealing a deeper secret. "We've seen that the gods who come are not the same. In the past, our king, who uses light magic, had the light god come to test him. As for you, I've heard rumors that you might be a magic user, though we don't know exactly what kind of magic you possess."
Florã's heart skipped a beat at the mention of magic. Her magic, her true magic, was still a mystery to those around her, but the hint of curiosity in Cimon's voice made it clear that he—and the kingdom—were watching her closely.
Cimon looked at her, as if expecting a reaction, but Florã simply nodded, the same calm expression never leaving her face.
"Given your potential, it's possible that a god related to your magic will come to test you," Cimon finished, his eyes gleaming with the weight of his words. "But we don't know much more than that, young master. It's a mysterious process."
Florã was silent for a moment, her mind turning over the implications of what Cimon had just shared. A god related to my magic… The possibilities were both fascinating and terrifying. But for now, she would remain composed. The gods could test her all they wanted. She had walked through fire before, and she would do it again.
Cimon's expression shifted slightly, as if he had more to say, but he paused, clearly weighing his next words carefully. "I'm excited for you to join the Royal Knights, young master," he said, his voice warm with enthusiasm. "And I've got a plan for you, but I can only share it with you after you've officially joined. It's something that could prove quite beneficial for your future."
Florã's lips curved into a small, knowing smile, her thoughts sharp. A plan? She didn't trust anyone fully—least of all the general. But she couldn't deny that she was intrigued.
"I look forward to hearing about it," Florã replied smoothly, keeping her tone polite but nonchalant.
Cimon stood, clearly satisfied with their conversation. "Very well, young master. I'll leave you to prepare. The examination begins soon."
As he turned to leave, Florã's gaze followed him for a moment, her mind already planning the steps ahead. This examination was just the beginning, and she would use every test, every challenge, to her advantage. No matter what gods came to test her, Florã knew one thing for certain—she would pass their test, and she would be the one holding the power.