Irion Palace
West Wing Courtyard.
Kyra had been given a small maid’s room that was at least an hour's walk from the courtyard. It was stuffy and slightly dusty, and light hardly penetrated the room. The bed had been comfortable, at least, and the young woman was provided with a closet she had no use for. She didn’t have clothes. A fact that was slowly becoming a dilemma. She had checked her inventory, and the only other outfit that was stored was her torn white nightgown, which she was quick to delete.
Thankfully for her, the crimson-haired butler, Isaac, had provided her with a grey tunic, black trousers, and a pair of black heeled boots. The palace decor was far too tacky for Kyra. Nearly everything was blue. Blue marble grounds, walls, vases, curtains, and doors. And if it wasn’t blue, it was red. Red carpets, portrait frames, and furniture.
Now here Kyra was, freezing in the overly decorated courtyard, waiting for the crown prince to arrive. The young girl felt uneasy at the number of maids, butlers, and guards that stood around. Was this much security needed? Another thing she felt uneasy about was the fact she wasn’t the first swordmaster—she was the tenth.
Ten swordmasters. She had pushed Isaac for the reason; however, his reply only fueled her worries. “Just be understanding and patient.” What had she gotten herself into?
‘Think about the pay. Think about the pay.’ She thought.
“The crown prince is now entering the courtyard!” A guard yelled, the wind carrying his voice with an echo. An obnoxious blow of the trumpet followed suit, and it worsened the headache Kyra had. Her green eyes followed the blonde male who stepped into the courtyard, and the first thing Kyra noticed was his arrogance. It was pungent, abundant, and unnecessary. However, he was the most potent being in the courtyard, and Kyra didn’t want to show her distaste openly. She noticed the prince wore a golden tunic with navy blue trousers. A red fur cloak rested upon his shoulders, and a gold-bladed zweihander sat attached to his hip.
The sound of multiple fabrics moving brought her attention back to the people around her. They were all bowing, and Kyra did the same. Gabriel stood in front of her and eyed the young girl. Kyra stood up straight, and her eyes widened. He was taller. She was taller than her brother, father, and grandfather. The prince before her was a behemoth of a man. He was well built, too. To Kyra, he may have stood around six, ten, or even seven feet.
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The young woman slightly craned her neck up, and their eyes locked. His stare was intense, and she couldn’t tell what was swirling within those lilac eyes.
“Are you supposed to be my new master?” He asked, and his deep voice echoed across the surrounding area. It dripped with arrogance and disbelief.
Isaac, who stood behind the prince, spoke up.
“She’s from the von Stein family,” he said. “The same family that serves your father.” He added. Kyra knew this didn’t mean anything to the prince. He shrugged. Then he unsheathed his blade.
{Sword Master Training Quest Begins}
Echoed across her dome.
Kyra jumped back and picked up the wooden sword lying on the ground. Great. A wooden sword. Gabriel sprinted forward and struck at her. Kyra dodged and used the wooden sword to hit the back of the prince’s knees, wincing at the horrified reactions that followed suit.
‘Maybe I should go easy on him.’ She thought. The prince noticed her hesitation and grew angry. He recovered from the attack and swung his sword around again. Kyra tried to do her best to block his assault, but they were erratic. There was no poise, grace, or calculation in his swings. He was an amateur at best. An arrogant amateur.
Kyra flipped the wooden sword in the air, grabbed the blade of his sword, and used her entire strength to lift the man up and flip him behind her. She ignored the pain the blade caused as it was sliced against her palm, drawing blood. Once Gabriel was on his back, however, Kyra caught the wooden sword and placed the tip of the weapon on the prince’s throat. Blood continued oozing out of her palms, making her slightly woozy the longer she stared at it.
Isaac began clapping, standing there with widened, shocked eyes. This was the first. Most of the masters had approached Gabriel with caution, making sure not to touch his being as they practiced. In turn, this made the prince pissed. He wasn’t a fragile vase in need of care, especially since he was destined to become king and lead a great army to many victories. Kyra threw the wooden sword to the side and took a deep breath.
The said prince got up and stormed off, embarrassed by the sudden occurrence of events. Isaac allowed the prince to pass him without much effort and walked over to Kyra. The crimson-haired man then grabbed the young woman’s hands.
They began to glow, and the deep wounds began to slowly heal.
“You’re the first master to actually engage with the prince roughly,” Isaac said, flipping her hands up and down before letting them go. “That was the sole problem with other masters. They treated him with too much care.”
Kyra understood to some extent. However, he was still too arrogant.
“If losing is going to have him storming off constantly, I don't think the prince is ready to face the world, let alone me.” She voiced, her words coming out blunter than she would have liked. Isaac seemed to have understood what she was saying, however.
“This is where your patience will be tested. A sheltered being isn’t going to regulate their emotions the same.” He explained. Kyra rubbed her hand over her thighs and watched as the maids, butlers, and guards returned back to their stationed places.
Her stomach then growled. Instead of being embarrassed, Kyra cracked a toothy grin and placed her hand on Isaac’s shoulder, looking down on him.
“What’s for breakfast?”