The soft morning light bathed the pavilion in a golden hue, reflecting off the tranquil pond where koi fish glided gracefully beneath the water's surface.
The soft rustling of willow branches accompanied the occasional ripple across the water's surface.
Rosellene sat leisurely by the pavilion, despite her usual composed elegance, faint shadows lingered beneath her eyes...a subtle betrayal of the restless night she had endured.
Millie stood beside her, serving the morning tea in silence, her movements graceful and efficient. Another close maid stood nearby, gently fanning her to ward off the warmth of the rising sun.
Celestine entered with a light and cheerful step, her gaze filled with mischief. She gasped, hands coming to her hips. "Good heavens, Rosellene, where did you sneak off to last night? You look like you spent the night committing grand robbery."
Rosellene, who had been idly stirring her tea, paused before giving Celestine a slow, unimpressed glance. "If I did, I'd at least have something to show for it."
Celestine let out a light laugh before leaning in. "Then why do you look like you lost a battle against sleep?"
Rosellene merely smiled, neither confirming nor denying anything, her fan flicking open in a slow, deliberate motion.
The conversation naturally shifted as they idly chatted, passing the time. Eventually, they spoke of Elizabeth, the late riser, who would not be seen until noon.
"Honestly," Celestine sighed dramatically, "how does she sleep so much? It's as if she has taken a lifelong vow of rest."
A small smile tugged at Rosellene's lips. That was true. If left alone, Elizabeth wouldn't wake up until the afternoon.
A nearby maid, overhearing their exchange, hesitated before stepping forward. "My lady, if you are looking for something to do while waiting, the eldest master, Lord Edgar, is also present today. The knights are currently practicing…perhaps you'd enjoy watching?"
At the mention of Edgar, Celestine's eyes lit up with interest. "Oh, really? Well, that's a pleasant surprise."
Rosellene hesitated. It wasn't that she disliked the idea, but… she was uncertain. Would this be a bad idea?
Before she could voice her thoughts, Celestine clasped her hands together, eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "Oh, how splendid! Let's go!"
Finally, Rosellene sighed in defeat, folding her fan with a soft snap. "Fine." She stood, smoothing out the delicate folds of her dress.
"Let's go see if the knights are truly as impressive as they claim."
Celestine beamed, linking her arm through Rosellene's. "Now that's the spirit."
And just like that, her fate was decided.
As they made their way toward the training grounds, a breeze rippled across the pond, disturbing the once-still surface. The koi fish swirled beneath the water, their movements silent but deliberate, like the undercurrents of something waiting beneath the surface.
The training grounds stretched wide and unembellished, designed for efficiency, exuding an air of discipline.
Sunlight glinted off racks of well-maintained weaponry, archery targets stood at varying distances, and the clashing sounds of sparring knights filled the air.
Training dummies stood lined up along one side while sparring arenas spread out across the open courtyard.
It was an efficient space, built for warriors rather than spectacle, yet nothing was lacking. Every piece of equipment had its place, and every arena was filled with purpose.
As they entered, one of Celestine's maids was quick to notice a familiar figure amidst the archery range. "My lady," she whispered, leaning in slightly. "Lord Edgar is over there."
In the shooting arena, Edgar Caldermere stood tall, effortlessly commanding the attention of his trainees.
His voice carried firm instructions as he moved among them, adjusting their grip on the bow, correcting their stance, and demonstrating proper posture with the ease of someone well-versed in the craft.
Celestine, never one to miss an opportunity, cupped her hands around her mouth and called out cheerfully, "Edgar!"
At the sound of his name, Edgar glanced over, his lips twitching into a smile. He said something to the assistant trainer beside him before making his way toward them.
Rosellene straightened slightly and gave a polite yet familiar salute. "Edgar."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Now, now. There's no need for formality between us, Rosellene." His tone was warm, effortlessly dissolving any stiffness.
He greeted Celestine as well before glancing at the group. "What brings you here?"
Celestine grinned. "We were just passing by, but it seems we stumbled upon a rather lively sight."
Edgar crossed his arms and inclined his head with a smile. "Is that so? If you'd like, you're welcome to try your hand at archery."
Though he was evidently busy, there was genuine warmth in his offer. Before he could feel guilty for not being able to entertain them himself, Rosellene waved a hand dismissively.
"No need," she said smoothly. "We won't trouble you. We'll roam around as we like."
Celestine nodded. "Besides, I've seen you shoot a thousand times already, Edgar. The excitement has worn off."
Laughing, Edgar called over his trusted attendant. "This is my attendant, Rowan. He'll take good care of you."
Then he motioned to his attendant "Rowan, accompany them and make sure they don't wander into anything dangerous."
"Of course, my lord." Rowan, dressed in the distinctive white knight's robe, stepped forward with a polite bow. His uniform bore the golden insignia of House Caldermere.
Edgar softly reminded "Very well, then. Enjoy yourselves but don't get into too much trouble."
With that, he returned to his duties, leaving them under Rowan's guidance.
As they strolled through the training grounds, Rowan gestured toward the west arena.
His tone carried a glint of knowing as he said, "It seems fortune favors you today, my ladies." he remarked with a polite yet intrigued tone. "At this very moment, the knights of Eryndor are holding a sparring match. If it pleases you, I can escort you there for a closer look."
Celestine's eyes lit up at the prospect, her curiosity was instantly piqued. "Oh? The knights of Eryndor?" she mused, tapping her chin playfully. "That does sound rather exciting."
Her maids exchanged eager glances, the idea clearly appealing to them.
After all, who wouldn't be interested in witnessing a display of power and precision from the most elite warriors in the kingdom? The thought alone was thrilling.
Handsome men, skilled combat, and an air thick with strength and power, it was the sort of spectacle that could stir the heart of any young lady.
Rosellene, however, hesitated. Something in her heart wavered, but she couldn't place why.
Yet, under Celestine's expectant gaze, refusal wasn't an option.
Rowan, sensing no opposition, dipped his head respectfully. "Then, this way, my ladies."
As they followed him through the stone-paved pathways of the training grounds, the distant clang of steel against steel grew louder.
The rhythmic sounds of battle, fierce yet controlled, sent a ripple of anticipation through the air.
The west arena came into view, packed with knights, all eyes locked on the battlefield.
The arena pulsed with tension, the air thick with anticipation as knights gathered around the sparring ground, eyes fixed on the battle unfolding before them.
At the center of the commotion, the Silver Wing unit took their turns facing off, each match a test of skill and endurance.
Under the command of the Elite Captains, these warriors were no ordinary men. They were the backbone of Eryndor's might, trained to near perfection.
Each unit consisted of twelve handpicked knights, and above them stood their commanding Elite Captain, a position earned through blood, sweat, and an unbreakable will.
The Black Circle consisted of these Elite captains.
As Rowan led them in, they overheard murmurs among the soldiers.
"The Black Circle is stepping in now," one knight whispered. "Now it's a battle between two grand knights…it'll be a real fight for honor."
"They're known for their relentless combat style. Their endurance is something else." another muttered, his arms crossed as he watched intently.
The excitement among the spectators was palpable, murmurs of speculation rippling through the ranks of knights watching from the sidelines.
"This will be an interesting one," a knight whispered to his companion. "The strategist against the swordsman."
The match everyone had been waiting for was underway, a duel between Rhyse Landon and Lucien Voss.
Bets had already been placed, and while the odds favored Rhyse, the more physically dominant combatant, no one dared to underestimate Lucien, the mastermind behind Eryndor's triumph.
Rhyse struck first, his blade flashing under the sunlight as he lunged. Lucien barely evaded, his movements fluid, calculated.
"Getting slow, are we?" Lucien taunted his opponent with a smirk as he twirled his sword, deflecting Rhyse's next attack with a near-effortless parry.
"Has the weight of your reputation finally caught up to you?"
Rhyse ignored him, focusing instead on his movements. Lucien was sharp and skilled in exploiting weaknesses, but Rhyse was not so easily swayed.
Their blades clashed, light-infused strikes illuminating the field. The crowd watched in awe as each attack sent shockwaves through the ground as the battle went on.