Nimble fingers made quick work with the various straps and buckles of armor, deftly securing them around a slender waist. Irene was thankful the armory had under paddings that fit her stature, for she had long lost the ones she used to wear. The armor that weighed down on her body felt familiar, yet somehow unfamiliar to her. She could remember how she used to fight and spar in it, but yet she had changed so much, compared to Irene who had worn it before. She stepped in front of the large mirror that rested against the wall in the private chamber, turning slightly to examine how she looked.

Shateron armor was quite stylish, the sleek metal of black, reds and golds glinting in the candlelight that illuminated the room. Irene was taught that the colors symbolized power, courage and authority, yet an aura of mystery and elegance surrounded the garb as well. She picked up her helmet from the floor, the long red plume brushing against the vambraces that guarded her arms. It seemed like a piece of art, especially in the fiery red lighting of the chamber. She tucked it snugly in the crook of her arm before pushing open the door that led back into the grand armory.

Before she had enough space to even close the door behind her however, Irene bumped face first into the cold surface of armor. Thankfully, her quick reflexes saved her from falling backwards onto the ground in indignity.

“Hey, watch where - Princess Irene? My deepest apologies, I should’ve been more mindful of my surroundings.” A gruff voice exclaimed in surprise.

Irene rubbed her forehead in pain, simultaneously wondering which soldier had the nerve to address her on a first name basis. She glanced down at the stocky man kneeling before her, eyes squinted in annoyance before they widened in realization.

“Sir Marron? It’s been such a long time!” Irene quickly moved to raise him from his kneeling position. “I didn’t realize it was you, forgive me.”

“Oh no, your Highness. It is I who should ask for forgiveness. A princess has no need to apologize to a lowly soldier.” Sir Marron rumbled respectfully as he rose to his feet.

Through his humbleness and gentle disposition, one would’ve never guessed Sir Marron was one of the highest ranking commanders in the Shateron Kingdom. From his countless victories and accolades, his name had gained much respect and admiration throughout the land, even in the neighboring kingdoms. But not only was Sir Marron familiar to Irene by name, he was her sole mentor during the many years of her swordsmaidenship.

“Seems like your highness is finally back to the good ol’ sword and ready to regain her previous titles.” Marron chuckled, his bushy moustache crooked due to his good natured smile.

“Indeed. It’s been a while since I’ve had a blade in my hands. It may take me a long while to spar at the level I used to though.” Irene sighed, looking wistfully at the rows of weapons that lined the wall beside her.

Marron waved a large hand in the air. “Nonsense. You’ll know how to move automatically. From all my years serving the Kingdom of Shateron, I have not seen sword fighting come more naturally to a person than your majesty.” He moved to her side and picked a slim sword from the wall. “Say, what do you say we spar a bit with these training ones and get you back on your feet? You wouldn’t want to slice me up so quick with those twin blades of yours, now would you” He joked, offering Irene the handle of the weapon.

Irene smiled, gladly accepting the offer. “I would love to spar again.”

↞ ♛♕ ↠

The clamor once again descended into silence as Irene stepped into the training chamber. She looked like a phantom, her glossy midnight armor reflecting the light from the windows and splintering it onto the ground around her. The visor on her helmet was up, but her face was shrouded in shadow. The long red plume swung like a tail of a dragon behind her. A fitting image indeed, for Irene looked as dangerous as ever.

Sir Marron marched in shortly after, a tower of gleaming metal and strength compared to Irene’s slight stature. Somehow the soldiers kneeled down lower in respect, if that was possible.

“All at attention!” Marron’s booming voice reverberated throughout the room. At once, the stone-like figures shot to their feet, arms angled in a salute. It was almost unnerving, watching the men move with such silence and compliance.

The pair moved forward and the soldiers parted accordingly. Some looked on in apprehension and some looked on in confusion, but all were curious as to why the princess was in armor, and holding a sword, no less.

Suddenly, Irene stopped and Marron turned to face her, leveling his sword as he flipped down his visor.

“Well, what are you waiting for, princess? Give me your all.”

The soldiers watched with bated breath as the ghost of a smirk graced Irene’s mouth, before she flipped down her own visor and was gone in a blur of black and blood red.

The swords met in a loud clang, the two struggling briefly before breaking away. If Marron was a mountain, then Irene was the stream that flowed around it in constant movement. Where one held the upper hand in strength, the other had the advantage in speed.

She lunged sideways, slicing towards his arm before Marron parried it away with a twist of his hand. Irene cut again from the other side, and he again parried. They moved back and forth and around each other, a deadly dance of blades.

Marron fought in short, well placed stabs, while Irene arced her sword in elegant crescents. They possessed completely opposing styles, yet none could tell who would come out as the victor. Suddenly, he switched to the offensive, charging in and jabbing at the latter’s midsection.

Clang. The blades ricocheted off each other, Irene’s reflexes saving her in a split second as she dodged and forced his sword away. She staggered back, breath ragged as she tightened her grip and regained her footing. The soldiers murmured in excitement, the bolder ones shouting and cheering at the action. Sweat beaded on Irene’s forehead, from both concentration and the intense exertion.

Please Subscribe to read the full chapter