Aldric

The clang of steel against steel echoed through the training yard as Sir Aldric of Lysander sparred with a fellow knight, their blades meeting with precision and force. The morning sun glinted off their armor, the cool breeze carrying away the sweat that beaded on their brows. Around them, other knights practiced their forms, the air thick with the sounds of exertion and the scent of churned earth.

Aldric moved with the fluid grace of a man who had spent his entire life honing his skills in combat. His sword was an extension of his arm, each swing and parry executed with practiced ease. Yet today, his mind was elsewhere, the rhythm of the sparring match failing to hold his full attention.

“Focus, Aldric!” barked Sir Cuthbert, his sparring partner, as their blades locked together.

Aldric grunted in response, pushing back with a surge of strength that forced Cuthbert to step back. He should have been concentrating, but his thoughts kept drifting to the previous evening, to the secluded garden, and to the girl with the lute.

Elara. He hadn’t known her name until later, when he’d asked one of the other knights who she was. A maid, they said, just one of the many who worked in the palace, invisible to most of the nobility. But she was far from invisible to him now.

He had been patrolling the grounds when he first heard it—a soft, melancholic melody drifting on the evening air. It had caught him off guard, the sound so out of place in the silence of the night. Drawn to it, he had followed the music until he found its source, hidden away in that forgotten corner of the garden.

When he saw her, her eyes closed, her fingers dancing over the strings of the lute, something within him had shifted. He had seen many beautiful things in his life—glorious battles, majestic landscapes, the splendor of the royal court—but nothing had ever struck him so deeply as that simple, heartfelt melody. And when she opened her eyes and saw him standing there, he had felt a connection that defied explanation.

“Distracted today, aren’t you?” Sir Cuthbert’s voice cut through his thoughts as their swords clashed again.

Aldric shook his head, trying to clear his mind. “Just tired,” he muttered, though he knew that wasn’t the truth.

They continued sparring, but the memory of Elara’s music played in the back of his mind, haunting him. It was as if that melody had seeped into his very soul, echoing in the quiet spaces of his thoughts. He had always been a man of discipline, focused on his duties with unwavering resolve. Yet now, for the first time in years, something had disturbed that focus.

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When the match finally ended, Aldric wiped the sweat from his brow and sheathed his sword. Sir Cuthbert clapped him on the shoulder, a knowing grin on his face. “You need to get some rest, my friend. A knight’s mind must be as sharp as his blade.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Aldric replied, though he knew rest would be hard to come by. His thoughts were too restless, filled with the image of a girl playing a lute in a secret garden.

After the training session, Aldric made his way to the stables, seeking the solitude that only his horse, Stormbreaker, could provide. The stables were quiet, the horses shifting in their stalls, the smell of hay and leather filling the air. He found Stormbreaker in his usual spot, the black stallion snorting softly as Aldric approached.

He ran a hand down the horse’s sleek neck, finding comfort in the familiar routine of grooming and tending to his mount. Stormbreaker was a warhorse, strong and fierce, yet with a bond to Aldric that had been forged through years of battle. But even as he worked, Aldric’s mind kept returning to that melody, to the way it had made him feel—alive in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

After finishing in the stables, Aldric decided to take a walk through the palace grounds, hoping the fresh air might help clear his head. The gardens were usually a place of peace for him, a respite from the duties that weighed heavily on his shoulders. But today, as he wandered through the manicured hedges and flowerbeds, he couldn’t escape the memory of the night before.

He found himself standing near the entrance to the secluded garden, the one he had stumbled upon by chance. The sun was high in the sky now, casting a warm glow over the palace walls, but the garden still held an air of quiet mystery. Without fully understanding why, he stepped inside, his boots crunching softly on the gravel path.

The garden was empty, just as he expected. No sign of the girl or her lute. But the place still resonated with the memory of her music, as if the very air had been imprinted with the notes she had played. He walked slowly, his hand brushing against the ivy-covered walls, his eyes scanning the shadows as if she might appear again, like a ghost summoned by his thoughts.

Why had her music affected him so deeply? He had heard countless songs and ballads over the years, yet none had lingered in his mind the way this one did. Was it simply the unexpectedness of it, the way it had caught him off guard in a moment of solitude? Or was there something more to it—something about the girl herself, her quiet beauty, her undeniable talent?

Aldric shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts that clung to him. He was a knight, sworn to serve the crown and protect the kingdom. He had no time for such distractions, no matter how alluring they might be. And yet, even as he told himself this, he knew that he would return to this garden, that he would seek her out again, drawn by a force he could not name.

As he left the garden and made his way back to the palace, Aldric’s thoughts were already planning his next visit. He didn’t know what he hoped to find, or what he would say to her if they met again. But he knew one thing for certain: he could not simply walk away from this. Whatever it was that had begun in that garden, it had taken root in his heart, and it would not let him go.