The Falor of Khaleus: Blade of the Empress

Chapter 10

I slumped in my seat at the inn, rubbing my sore arms as I glared into my half-eaten plate. "I swear, Ariston, they're trying to kill me," I complained, pushing the food around with my fork. "Every day it's the same—endless drills, weapon practice until I can barely lift my arms, then more running until I feel like my legs are going to fall off. How am I supposed to survive this?"

Ariston chuckled, cleaning a glass behind the bar. "That's the Vanguard for you, lad. Tough as nails. But you're still standing, aren't you?"

"Barely," I muttered. Helena, his wife, gave me a sympathetic smile as she refilled my cup.

"Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it," she said kindly. "Besides, they wouldn't push you so hard if they didn't see some promise in you."

"Promise?" I snorted, but before I could continue, the inn door swung open with a loud creak, and the room instantly fell silent. I turned, raising an eyebrow as a young woman stepped inside.

She was striking—dressed in an exquisite emerald gown embroidered with delicate gold patterns that shimmered under the light. Her raven-black hair was twisted into an elaborate braid, adorned with jewels that sparkled like stars, and she carried herself with the kind of grace that made the rest of us look like clumsy children. Everything about her, from the subtle curve of her lips to the sharpness in her gaze, screamed power and authority.

"Who's that?" I whispered, glancing at Ariston. I noticed something odd—the whole inn had gone stiff. Men were bowing, heads low, and women were dropping into deep curtsies, eyes cast down. Even Ariston, usually so easygoing, was hastily wiping his hands on his apron and inclining his head in respect.

"Bow, lad!" he hissed under his breath, eyes wide. "That's Princess Elowen, the second in line to the throne."

The Princess? My heart skipped a beat, and I scrambled to stand, but before I could even manage a clumsy bow, she was already standing right in front of me, looking me over with those piercing eyes. I froze, feeling like I'd just been pinned under a dragon's gaze.

"And who might you be?" she asked, her voice calm but carrying an unmistakable note of command.

"Uh—Adrian," I stammered, my mouth suddenly dry. "Adrian Evans."

"Adrian Evans..." she repeated slowly, as if tasting the words, then her gaze shifted to the sword at my hip. "Show me your blade."

I blinked, glancing at my sword in confusion. Why was she interested in it? But I didn't dare refuse. Carefully, I drew it and held it out to her. She barely spared it a glance before shaking her head, a look of disappointment crossing her face.

"It's not the one," she murmured.

"The one?" I blurted, frowning. "What do you mean?"

Her eyes narrowed, as if weighing whether I was worth explaining it to. After a tense moment, she sighed. "I'm searching for the sword of the First Empress—Excalibur. A blade forged by the Goddess Ravanna herself for her chosen champion."

"Excalibur?" My mind raced as I tried to recall what I'd learned in history lessons. The First Empress—the Peasant-made-Queen. A woman who rose from nothing to unite this entire land. Legends said she wielded a blade that could cut through anything, a weapon of unmatched power. "I thought that was just a story..."

"Stories always have a seed of truth," she replied, tilting her head slightly. "But I've yet to find it, no matter where I look." She looked back at me, eyes sharp. "What knight branch are you with?"

I swallowed, suddenly feeling very small under her scrutiny. "Uh, the Vanguard, Your Highness."

"The Vanguard?" Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she studied me again, as if reevaluating something. Then, to my shock, she nodded briskly. "Take me to your headquarters."