Messenger of God

Chapter One.

Euboea Islands, Greece

Modern Day.

0900 hours, 1st day of redemption.

ARC 1

Heavy breathing and grunts echoed throughout the courtyard.

"You think you can beat me, Rook?" A sharp swipe of a blade that would have done serious damage if not for the quick parry their partner took, before their blades clashed once more. The clinks and clanks of the heavy armor they adorned made noise with every movement. They danced, sparring quickly and effectively, as if they had done it a hundred times before. Echoes around them of the other students as they took on similar positions, fighting for.. well.

"Ahem." The voice echoed throughout the hall, and despite all the noise, all students took notice of their teacher, standing with hands clasped behind his back, the scar that ran along his face from the same wound that had taken his eye. Silver hair and a well-groomed beard matching with an air of authority that had everyone standing at attention in his presence.

"Graves. You're coming with me." There's a long moment of silence, everyone holding their breath as Rook lifts her helmet, parting the crowd like the red sea, expression confused as she pants from the exertion of the previous match. She steps forward nonetheless, nodding in submission at the man.

"Follow me." The girl sat her helm down and followed quietly, hands clasped in front as she walked three paces behind him. Eventually they reached the man's office, and her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but she followed nonetheless.

The man entered, moving to take a seat at his desk as he motioned to the seat across from him with a raised brow as the girl stood by the door quietly. She made a quick pace to take a seat, awkwardly bowing her head.

"Miss Graves. Are you aware of our motto here at Saint Mary's?" The man questioned, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand as he observed her tense posture, and she straightened under his unwavering stare.

"Absolutely. Make haste, show no fear, show no mercy." She prattled off, voice monotone as if she had spoken this phrase hundreds of times prior. "But, if I may ask, why do you ask this of me?"

The man chuckled, and then leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight as he observed his student, before he stood, turned and made his way to the large window that oversaw Saint Mary's School for Young."

"I have a job for you, Miss Graves. Florence." He nods his head, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a cigar, lighting it with ease and holding it in his mouth for a moment, letting the smoke roll from the sides of his mouth as he let out a long sigh before removing it. The girl struggled not to cough as the strong aroma filled the large office.

She remained silent however, not looking him in the eye as he turned, approached and blew it right in her face.

"Miss Graves, do you happen to be any good at training?" The girl blinked in confusion, finally lifting her head to stare into the man's dark blue gaze.

Training? Surely-

The man continued before she could even think to respond, leaning back to continue on with his cigar, speaking out into the smoke filled air.

"I have a new recruit coming. I want you to give her a warm welcome as well as take her under your wing. You are one of my most talented and loyal students, Captain, and I believe you are the perfect fit for this job. "

She blinked up at him in confusion, and once again, before she could reply, there was a knock; he turned to the door, "You may enter."

An unfamiliar woman came stumbling through, one of the Captain colleagues stepping through a moment later, head down quietly. The Captain blinked as she took in the sight of the unfamiliar woman.

Long hair, knotted and knarled, light honey brown skin and brown eyes greeted her. The woman tilted her head, gritting her teeth and the Captain took notice of the bound wrists with a widening of eyes but let nothing else show. No mercy. She continued repeating the motto in the back of her head as she continued her assessment. Dirt adorned her cheek and what looked to be a bruise, a healing one at that, that was an ugly shade of purples and yellows. The girl's face looked as if an artist had taken a paintbrush and slathered it onto her face with reckless abandon. The Captain blinked, but she was brought up in Saint Mary's as a leader entirely due to her ability to keep quiet and not ask questions. It was what allowed her the right to the captain title. This would not change now. She schooled her expression, and turned to her leader with a careful expression.