Though the Greenwood Castle fears little the power of Viscount Belta, it may face some trouble due to the Baron's actions against Osiris. The events of today have imbued her with a sense of facing death and rebirth, elevating her entire being, a true transcendence of spirit. Moreover, today indirectly validated all her preparations over the past few days, proving they were not in vain. If she had wielded a true broadsword at the time, Freya believes she could have definitely subdued Osiris without interference. This isn't blind confidence but the most accurate judgment made after careful simulation.
"Puff..." Sensing the slow depletion of oxygen in her chest, she silently rose from the water, stepping out of the tub and wrapping herself in a nearby towel. The body of the nearly fifteen-year-old girl, honed through relentless training, was gradually shedding its appearance of fragility. There hadn't been much change in her bust, but there were faint muscular contours between her abdomen and arms, though not prominently visible beneath her fair skin. Gently touching her slightly hardened abdomen, Freya gave a bitter smile. "Will I turn into a muscle-bound woman if I continue like this?"
In the following five days, the patrol time of the castle guards noticeably lengthened, and the frequency increased. Even the commoners in the territory, unaware of the specifics, sensed something unusual. During this period, Freya, knowing the reason, had to refrain from venturing too far from the castle, as per the Baron's instructions. Understanding the cause, Freya had to disrupt her usual routine, instead observing the daily training ground activities in an open space. While most sparring sessions didn't interest her much, the bouts between small team leaders were truly enlightening for Freya. The guards recruited by the Baron, each harbored the potential to become a knight, differing only in their individual efforts. Among them were some impressive displays, offering Freya invaluable learning opportunities to enhance her swordsmanship.
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The dimming sun had begun its descent, torches now alight on the pillars surrounding the training ground, where a crowd had gathered to watch a fierce duel. Facing off were Freya's acquaintance, Damonstein, the deputy captain of the guard, and a muscular, unfamiliar guardsman. Each wielded a wooden practice sword, eyeing each other for openings. Damonstein, with a calm demeanor, gripped his sword single-handedly, while his opponent, despite sweating profusely, remained cool, maneuvering for a chance to strike. The guards around cheered loudly, creating a lively atmosphere. Freya watched the battle calmly from amidst the crowd, her white noble dress somewhat out of place, but the guards were accustomed to her presence, maintaining a respectful distance to allow her a clear view of the action.