whispers of destiny || (clive rosfield x reader)

ch. 10

Thirteen Years Later

The Year of the Realm is 873. In the wake of the Holy Empire's conquest, Rosalith had been seized. The imperial army now held dominion over the kingdom, their presence a constant reminder of subjugation. Bearers toiled under their assigned masters, their strength overtaxed and their spirits dampened. The once-mighty Archduke had fallen, and the Duchess's betrayal had scarred the people deeply. Any survivors from that fateful night remained a mystery to you. And the thought of your three closest companions—Clive, Joshua, and Jill—remained as mere memories now.

Amid the dry, rocky canyons of the Deadlands, the sound of steel clashing echoed. Your grip tightened on your sword's hilt as you deftly parried each swift strike from your opponent. Every move was calculated, each dodge a dance to evade their attacks.

"Is that all? Come on, I know you're better than that," your opponent's voice rang out.

With determination, you lunged and struck once more. The clang of blades filled the air again as you engaged in the fierce duel. In a swift move, your leg swept beneath their calves, toppling them forward.

"Good," they acknowledged, swiftly recovering and resuming their stance.

Meeting their eyes, you realized your mirrored technique had been anticipated. Their own sword colliding against yours, driving you back onto the ground.

"But not good enough," they teased.

With a sigh of mock defeat, you retorted, "Oh, come on, Cid."

Cid's lips quirked into a grin. "Well, if I go easy on you, I won't hear the end of it, now will I?"

He extended a hand, an offer of assistance to help you back to your feet.

"I suppose not," you replied, gratefully accepting his aid.

"Your swordsmanship is undoubtedly well-honed. Your physical combat, however, requires further refinement," Cid offered his assessment. "But that's enough for today."

"Are you suggesting you're tired already?" you retorted with a mock challenge, a playful edge in your voice.

"You certainly aren't tired enough. I've got a mission to attend with Goetz that may run a couple of days", Cid explained, his tone matter-of-fact.

"Leaving so soon again?", you questioned.

"Bearers won't save themselves, and neither will the captured innocents," Cid responded. "We'll resume training when I return, unless, of course, you're up for some rounds with Otto?"

"Otto? Witty one you are. He'd only go easy on me and I need a challenge. And besides, I know he's quite busy with the Cursebreakers and whatever other tasks you've assigned for him", you replied.

"Then until my return. I'm sure Bohumil could use an extra pair of hands with the crops," Cid suggested.

You let out an exaggerated groan at the mention of the name Bohumil.

"Come on, back inside," Cid called out, walking towards the entrance of the cave.

Nestled in the heart of the Deadlands was a hidden cave, also known as the Hideaway, your haven for the past decade or so. While not your dream abode, it offered safety and the only taste of real freedom you'd experienced. You hurried to catch up with Cid and entered the refuge alongside him.

Cidolfus Telamon, simply known as Cid, is a soldier or, as he often mentioned, an "outlaw." He was a revered figure within the Hideaway, and over the years, you'd come to both rely on him and hold him in high regard. He had been your savior, and you'd placed your life in his capable hands. However, you didn't want to depend on him completely. You nearly begged him to train you in swordsmanship so that you could defend yourself.