1217-01-18
"Those who tie their souls to dragons are bound by their power and death, not their own. In Maranona, they cannot grasp this: a dragon's pact is a shackle. It cages the soul, stifles the spirit. To forge such a bond is among the gravest follies.
The roar of the Lion is not to terrify, but to remind the world: I am here, and I will endure
Only the brave can walk the path of the Lion. Through courage, kingdoms are born; through resolve, they are sustained."
—Adrian Kundra, The Lion, the Serpent, and the Spirit Within
I closed my book, my thoughts trailing to the window. The sunlight spilled through, illuminating the academy grounds. Today was training day at Venadoma Academy.
People tend to have two opinions of dragons. Some see them as noble, majestic creatures, symbols of power and grace. Others fear them, seeing only danger and destruction, creatures of chaos that bring nothing but ruin to those who dare cross their path.
I fall firmly into the latter category.
My sister named her dragon Aska, a vibrant yellow beast whose wings seemed to span the heavens and whose movements were as quick as lightning. I had seen Aska only a handful of times when she was young, brought to our home with great care. But once Aska reached adulthood, she was too large to fit in the house.
Today, the 18th, was a Wednesday. Training day.
I got dressed, my nerves tying themselves into knots. Agatha stood at the stove, cooking her favorite: eggs and meat.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," she said with a smile, her back still turned to me.
"Good morning," I yawned, rubbing my eyes as I slid into a chair at the table.
"You're always tired," she teased, chuckling.
"Yeah, I was up... studying," I replied, my voice trailing off.
"Sure, studying," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
"I was!" I protested, glaring at her playfully.
"If you say so," she smirked, flipping the meat. "Breakfast is almost ready."
"Thank you," I said, smiling. "I'll cook for you tomorrow."
She glanced "Cooking is one of the few things I'm good at."
"Well, it's a good thing you do because I'd probably poison you if I tried," I joked.
"Don't sell yourself short. If you can't make a pact with a dragon, you could always become a scholar."
"I could," she said, her tone uncertain.
"But…" she prompted, turning to look at me.
"But my family needs me to make a pact,"she admitted quietly.
In this world, high-class families are under immense pressure to make pacts with dragons. Ever since King Milton discovered this power, he declared that all noble houses must form pacts to solidify their strength and secure their influence. As a king, his decree was law, and the higher members of society complied without question. Now, dragons are not only symbols of prestige but also essential to maintaining a house's power, wealth, and fame.
This expectation has trickled down to us, the next generation. Parents push their children relentlessly to form pacts, even though pacts are still a relatively new part of our world. Some families have built their entire status on these bonds, making failure unthinkable.
"I can teach you to fight," I offered, trying to lighten the mood. "Fighting is probably the only thing I'm good at."
Agatha smiled, a glint of mischief in her amber eyes. "Yeah, you almost beat a second-year once. I guess I'll be in your care."
We ate our meal—a savory combination of spiced eggs and tender, smoked meat, the flavors warm and rich with a hint of rosemary. When we finished, we left together, neither of us in a rush.
"It's chilly," Agatha said, wrapping a small yellow scarf around her neck as her red hair caught the breeze.
The training field loomed ahead. It was a vast, open space behind the main building of Venodema Academy. Unlike the bustling, chair-filled arena from the orientation, the field today was nearly barren. Training dummies were set up on one side, their weathered forms lined in neat rows. The other half of the field was completely empty, a wide-open area reserved for sparring matches between students.
Around the edges stood racks filled with weapons—spears, swords, katanas, and more. Nearly every weapon imaginable was available, their polished surfaces gleaming under the sun. There were also wooden training weapons of the same type for the less experienced.
At the center of the field, near the dummies, stood Jay. Perched on a small mound, the Holy Knight from before loomed beside him, her piercing gaze fixed on him like a hawk.
Agatha sprinted ahead, her yellow scarf trailing in the wind. Her excitement was infectious, and I found myself following, my own anticipation growing.
As we approached, Jay noticed us. A faint smile crossed his face, and I couldn't help but study him closer.
I hadn't noticed before, but he is carved like stone, the defined muscles displayed beneath his shirt.
What is wrong with me? I thought, shaking my head to clear the haze.
"Good morning, ladies," Jay greeted us, a smile tugging at his lips, sweat dripping down his face from whatever grueling exercise he had just finished.
"Mary's going to train me," Agatha announced confidently, her voice brimming with excitement.
Jay's smile widened. "Sister of the Perfect One? A great choice."
I blurted out, "You should join us!"
"Sure. What do you want to do?"
My mouth worked faster than my brain again. "How about you take me up on that earlier offer?"
Jay chuckled, running a hand through his damp black hair. "And Agatha can watch while we spar?"
Agatha nodded eagerly, her yellow scarf fluttering slightly in the breeze. I walked over to the weapon rack, scanning the options carefully. Finally, I picked up a longsword with a well-balanced weight, its hilt wrapped in leather that felt secure in my grip. Jay mirrored me.
We stepped into the open area, facing each other. The air between us grew heavier, and I adjusted my stance, shifting my feet to find balance. Jay did the same, his movements deliberate and measured.
There was no signal, no countdown. The fight began the moment I moved.
I lunged forward, testing his reflexes with a quick slash. Jay deflected it effortlessly, his blade moving with a grace that spoke of experience. He countered with a swift overhead strike, and I barely brought my sword up in time to block. The force of the clash vibrated through my arms, but I held firm, stepping back to reassess.
Jay pressed forward, his strikes fast and relentless, forcing me on the defensive. Jay was quick, but his defenses were loose. His focus on attacking left gaps.
I steadied myself, waiting for the next opening. When it came, I seized the opportunity. Sidestepping his downward slash, I pivoted and aimed a strike at his face. Jay moved to parry, but he was too late. My blade tapped against his cheek, signaling the end of the round.
I lowered my sword and exhaled deeply .
I glanced over at Agatha, who was clapping.
"You don't block your face," I panted, lowering my sword. "That's your problem."
Jay smirked. "Noted."
He walked over to the weapon rack and picked up a spear.
"I'm much better with a spear," he said confidently.
I raised an eyebrow, a skeptical laugh escaping me. "You really use a spear?"
"Of course," he retorted. "I'm the best spear user here."
"Sure you are," I said, rolling my shoulders. "Prove it."
Jay didn't need a second invitation. He shifted into position, the spear held at an angle, its sharp tip pointed directly at me.
The fight began again.
Jay lunged first, the spear thrusting toward me with incredible speed. I barely sidestepped in time, the tip slicing through the air just inches from my ribs.
His reach was an undeniable advantage. Each thrust and sweep of the spear kept me on the defensive, unable to close the distance. My sword strikes fell short, glancing harmlessly off the spear's shaft or missing entirely.
I tried to sidestep again, aiming to get within his range, but Jay anticipated the move. With a quick pivot, he thrust the spear directly at my chest.
The spear stopped just short of my chest. Jay froze in place, his blue eyes steady and triumphant as he smiled down at me.
"You're too aggressive," Jay panted, brushing his damp hair back. "That's your problem."
I smiled, wiping sweat from my brow. "Noted."
I turned to Agatha, who was still clapping lightly from the sidelines. "Alright, Agatha. Do you want to spar with me or Jay? We'll go easy on you."
"I'll spar with Jay," she said with a grin, already heading toward Themaion. "Let me go to the bathroom first!"
Jay and I sat on the ground.The exhaustion catching up with us. The silence filled only by the sound of our breathing.
"What do you think about Adrian Kundra?"
Jay looked at me, his expression shifting to surprise.
"Don't worry," I added quickly. "I won't tell anyone. In fact, I'll even lend you The Lion, the Serpent, and the Spirit Within."
His eyes widened. "You have that?!"
"My uncle gave it to me before he died."
Jay's face fell slightly. "Oh… I'm sorry."
I replied. "I'll let you read it. Just promise to give it back."
"I will," he said earnestly. "Thanks. I… agree with a lot of what Adrian has to say."
I blinked, surprised. "You do?"
Before he could explain, Agatha came jogging back, her scarf fluttering as she tightened it around her neck.
"Ready!" she announced brightly.
Jay got to his feet, his earlier exhaustion forgotten. They stepped onto the field, wooden weapons in hand, and quickly fell into an easy rhythm. Their sparring wasn't as intense as ours, filled instead with laughter and playful jabs.
Watching them, I found myself smiling. For a moment, it was easy to forget everything else.