Bound To Cazmus

Chapter Five

Instructed by Cazmus, a commanding figure, Chantelle was reminded of the importance of maintaining good posture when confronting an adversary.

 With her feet firmly planted in the ground, Chantelle diligently strived to refine her technique.

 Seeking confirmation, she inquired, "Is this correct?" Her arm slightly bent as she pointed the stick forward, her free arm resting at her side. 

Cazmus promptly corrected her, "Your arm is bent. Keep it perfectly straight."

She complied with his instructions and adjusted her arm. Standing tall, she held the stick out in front of her as if there was an adversary before her.

"Good," he complimented, stepping back. Chantelle beamed, relaxing her posture as she turned to confront him, feeling a wave of pride washing over her. 

After hours of practice, she had finally perfected her stance, and Cazmus had shown remarkable patience throughout the process.

Cazmus nodded, reaching for the sword nestled at his waist. 

It was a striking black blade adorned with intricate golden markings engraved along its length. "The royal Dramér sword?" she gasped in disbelief as he handed it to her.

 But as soon as the sword left Cazmus's grip, its weight immediately pulled her down. 

Just before she could hit the ground, Cazmus swiftly wrapped his arm around her waist, preventing her from falling.

"I'm sorry," he said, lifting the sword and carefully setting Chantelle down. Chantelle's eyes widened at the sight of the sword.

It was anything but lightweight; it had nearly knocked her out when she tried to lift it. However, the man held it as if it weighed nothing.

"T-that sword-"

"It's supposed to be heavy. It's not something humans would normally be able to carry. I seemed to have forgotten that.

 You can use this one instead. It was crafted by the greatest craftsmen there are." 

Cazmus reached for a sword at Vixen's side. It was the same sword, just smaller. When he tried to pass it to Chantelle, she seemed hesitant to grab it, her free hand clutching his coat just in case it would drag her down.

“Go on, it won't, I promise.” He said, I'm glad to help! Here's the rewritten text to be more descriptive:

A mischievous smile tugged at the corner of Cazmus's lips as he noticed the big doe eyes of Chantelle.

 The sight of her eyes, resembling those of a deer, unexpectedly amused him.

As Chantelle reached for the sword, her grip on his coat tightened until it was securely in her hands. 

Her expectation that it would bring her down was not met, prompting her to release him and hold the sword with both hands.

Cazmus then retrieved his sword and positioned himself in front of Chantelle. "I want you to attack me," he calmly commanded.

His words caught Chantelle off-guard, causing her to almost choke on her own gasp. "Attack a royal? God forbid! P-pardon, My lord?" she stuttered, taken aback.

"Do it. That is an order," Cazmus insisted, leaving no room for discussion.

Fear began to creep into Chantelle's mind as she contemplated the implications. She adjusted her posture and pointed the sword at him. It was just a few inches away from his chest. What if she inadvertently harmed him? 

"Quiet your mind, Chantelle, and strike on the count of one."

"Y-yes, my lord." She shut her eyes, drawing in a deep breath to steady her racing thoughts.