The Angel Fell Twice

Chapter 6. The Angel's Training

Marina woke early, her mind focused on the upcoming training. She dressed in her combat gear and made her way to the training grounds. As she approached, she noticed Isabel already there, practicing with a group of knights.

Isabel glanced up as Marina entered, her eyes narrowing. "You're late," she said sharply.

Marina ignored the jab, stepping onto the training field. "Let's get started."

The morning was filled with rigorous drills and sparring sessions. Isabel pushed Marina relentlessly, testing her limits at every opportunity. Marina met each challenge with determination, refusing to be intimidated.

After hours of training, Arthur arrived to oversee their progress. He watched as Marina parried one of Isabel's attacks, their blades clashing with a sharp ring. Isabel glared at her, going faster and faster. Marina parried her, pushed back by her raw strength, but kept up, parrying her slashes. She suddenly slashed her sword out of her hands. Marina dodged, then grabbed her wrists, holding them both in a standstill. Her grip tightened, claws digging in, as both of them glared at each other, bearing the faces of shared wrath. Yet Isabel saw Marina's face as her own... A face etched with a survivor's instinct.

"Enough," Arthur called out. The two women stepped back, breathing heavily but maintaining their composure.

Arthur nodded approvingly. "Good work, both of you. Marina, your progress is commendable. Isabel, continue to push her. We need her at her best."

Isabel sheathed her sword, her expression unreadable. "She has potential," she admitted grudgingly. "But potential isn't enough."

Arthur's eyes hardened. "That's why she's training with you. Ensure she becomes more than just potential."

One evening, after an exhausting day of training, Marina and Isabel found themselves the last ones remaining in the training hall. Marina continued to clash, her sword swaying relentlessly against Isabel's, sweat dripping from her forehead. The dim lights cast long shadows across the two fighting figures, the sound of sparking steel echoing. Isabel slashed her sword against Marina's, knocking Marina back, causing her grip to loosen. Isabel kicked the blade out of her grip. Marina charged forth, determined, as Isabel stepped back. Ducking under yet another swing of her blade, Marina tackled Isabel down, and the two wrestled. Isabel sensed the anger in Marina's eyes, the fuel, the passion. Isabel gripped Marina in a headlock, causing her to surrender. The two stood up. "Enough. Go practice your punching." Isabel spoke finally, picking up her blade and sheathing it. Marina nodded, Isabel's gaze lingering on her as she began to punch. During their wrestling, she had felt something upon Marina's back, concealed by her cloak. A backpack, perhaps? Isabel's eyes narrowed, noticing Marina's ethereal features which contrasted an expression rougher than she had ever seen on a subordinate before.

Marina was wrapping her hands after a particularly grueling session with the punching bag, while Isabel meticulously cleaned and maintained her sword. "You know, your form is improving, you continued to fight despite being unarmed," Isabel commented, not looking up from her work. Her tone was serious, but devoid of the usual harshness.

Marina paused, taken aback by the compliment. "Yes ma'am," she replied, trying to hide her surprise. "Thank you. You have trained me well."

Isabel fell silent, cleaning her daggers. Marina watched Isabel for a moment, admiring the way she handled her weapon with such care and expertise. "If I may ask, ma'am. Who has trained you so well?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Isabel glanced up, meeting Marina's gaze. There was a moment of hesitation before she spoke. "I was not trained, it was years of practice alone. And a lot of mistakes." She returned her attention to the sword, her voice growing softer. "You learn a lot when you have no choice but to survive."

Marina nodded gently, gazing at Isabel. Her eyes betrayed vulnerability, sadness. Her expression hardened, as she slashed her dagger against her sword to sharpen it, turning to look at Marina.

"What about you, lieutenant. What is your drive to fight?"

"Well, to restore glory to Stormfell, and bring it justice."

"No. I asked you, what drives you, soldier. What runs through your head, when you pick up your sword, and dare to draw the blood of another."

"Alot of things. I think about... The choices I regret. The people I've lost."

"Your ghosts." Isabel continued.
Marina nodded. They fell silent again, their daggers harshly sharpening their swords, igniting sparks. Isabel stood up, approaching Marina, her fingers running down the blade of the sword she raised towards her. "Take this, Marina. It will serve you well." Isabel spoke, giving Marina her sword. It was a large claymore, with an intricate blue hilt. Marina bowed her head. "Thank you, ma'am. This sword, it looks different..."
"It is." Isabel sat down beside her, "It is one I crafted and infused by hand."
"I cannot accept such a high gift, ma'am."
"You deserve it for your continued effort and loyalty." Isabel looked at her, "A good warrior needs good equipment."
"I don't know what to say..." Marina smiled slightly. Isabel stood. "Don't lose focus, Marina. Good night. Be up at the break of dawn."
"Yes, commander. Good night..."