Ink: Living Life as Serena Gleis

LXV: Training

Dawn settled over Clye, casting long shadows across the snow-covered landscape. It was an evening filled with significance, marked by the arrival of new knights to be trained. For Clye, a small duchy tucked away in its wintry embrace, this was more than just routine—it was a step towards its future.

In the dimly lit dining room, where warmth emanated from a crackling fire, tensions mingled with anticipation. I stood ready, adorned in attire befitting the occasion, my sword resting by my side. Maurice, Azrael, and Varka, loyal companions in this journey, awaited my signal.

"Good evening," Maurice greeted as I entered, his voice a calming presence amidst the nervous energy. Taking my place at the table, Maurice poured a cup of tea—a small gesture that spoke volumes of camaraderie. Through the frosted window, I glimpsed the relentless snowfall outside, a familiar sight that both defined and challenged Clye. "It's time we addressed Clye's weather," I remarked, breaking the quiet contemplation. Varka nodded thoughtfully. "It's a hindrance, but also a part of us. Changing it is no simple feat."

I pondered, knowing the limitations of altering nature itself. Yet, driven by modern knowledge and a determination to elevate Clye, I sought innovative solutions." Zion is awake," Varka's voice cut through my thoughts, reminding me of another pressing matter. I sighed deeply, realizing I could no longer evade this issue. "Why isn't he with us?" I inquired, sensing Azrael's disapproving gaze. He harbored understandable reservations about Zion's presence, but circumstances left us little choice. "You want him here?" Varka seemed surprised by my suggestion, prompting me to reconsider. "He'll be with us for a while. It's best he integrates," I asserted firmly, urging Varka to fetch Zion.

As Varka departed, an uneasy silence settled over the room, thick with unspoken concerns. Maurice and Azrael exchanged glances laden with unspoken words. "What is it?" I probed, sensing their reluctance to voice their thoughts.

"Are you certain about this?" Azrael finally spoke, his voice tinged with concern. Pausing, I met his gaze squarely. "We can't afford him leaving Clye knowing I'm alive. I can't trust him," I explained, a somber reminder of the delicate balance we maintained. "I understand," Azrael conceded, his gaze falling.

Moments later, Varka returned with Zion in tow. The air grew tense as the gravity of our reunion unfolded. Varka guided Zion to his seat, and Maurice promptly served him, breaking the palpable silence.

"It's been a while, Zion," I greeted softly, breaking through his stunned silence. His response was unexpected—tears welled up in his eyes, streaming down his face unchecked. Emotions long held in check surged forth, revealing the depth of his turmoil. The dining hall became a tableau of conflicting emotions and unspoken truths, where the past intertwined with uncertain futures. 

"You're alive." He cried. He is far more different  from the Zion I knew. The once light and bright aura that his existence gave off was long gone. I cannot blame him, life hasn't been easy for him as well. His father died, he was assassinated then his family was gone. 

"I am. Let's eat. Varka and I have to get going." I said and we started eating in silence, it was uncommon how Azrael did not voice any of his opinion but I think at this time, it is for the better. After a few minutes, Azrael rose abruptly from his seat. "I'm heading out," he declared, his abrupt departure raising concern in Maurice's voice. "What are you planning?" Maurice asked, worry lacing his words, mindful of Azrael's impulsive nature. "I've got some training to do on my own. The Duchess granted me a few days off," Azrael explained tersely before exiting the dining hall. Observing Varka finishing his meal, I stood as well, signaling our impending departure. "Varka and I will be leaving too," I announced, standing up and getting ready to get out and meet with the knights.