Seven years have passed since the war on Kanto grounds ended due to the sacrifice made by Sir Aaron and Soul Fraverden. While their legacy has been immortalized by the people of Kanto, not everyone has completely moved on from such a tragic loss. Qu...
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Four years later...
The summer sun above emitted sweltering heat that felt like fire on Hope's skin. Droplets of glistening sweat that rolled down her face did very little to help her cool down during this hot afternoon. She was no stranger to hot weather, but training directly under the sun felt like she was close to burning. Her complexion had become more tanned compared to how it looked like during her adolescent years. The intense training regimen she took part in was still something that her body hadn't quite adjusted to either.
A surprised yelp left Hope's lips when a sudden force knocked the iron sword out of her hands. She watched in dismay as the weapon slid quite the distance away, scaring away the flock of Wingul that were minding their own business nearby. The blonde woman couldn't help but frown a little.
"That's the third time today," a gruff voice behind her pointed out. "I never took you as the kind of student who gets easily distracted."
Her blue eyes narrowed slightly as she looked over her shoulder at her mentor. Just like her, he was sweating so much that the few locks of his greying hairs were sticking to his face. Despite how red in the face he was, the elder man was completely unbothered. To him, training in this heat was nothing he couldn't handle.
"You did that on purpose, Nicholas," Hope accused.
"Excused excuses." Her mentor, Nicholas, shook his head mockingly. "A warrior is always ready for what comes their way."
"Not my fault my hands are sweaty in this godforsaken heat..." Hope mumbled under her breath.
"We will have one more sparring session and call it a day," Nicholas compromised. "Now, go get your sword and come at me with everything you've got."
The blonde woman marched toward the direction where her sword slid. She kept her complaints to herself, but it was days like these that made her want to scream. Hope never saw the point of developing her swordsmanship. When the queen had told her that Nicholas Santos, Representative of Sirena's Island, was going to train her, she didn't know what to think. Her knowledge of aura was very limited, so she accepted any help she could get.
Never had Hope imagined that part of it included her mastery of a sword. The only time Hope was exposed to that kind of combat was during her childhood. She would look out the window of her room, watching her brother and father in their backyard sparring with training swords. Because her father was once a mercenary during his young adult life, it made sense that he was willing to teach his son what he knew about swordplay. Hope had always found their movement intriguing, like that of dancers, but it wasn't enough to motivate her to pick up a sword and mimic their movements.
By some unfortunate turn of events, here she was doing exactly what her brother and father were once doing. Maybe this was the universe telling her to never say never.
Hope knelt down and grabbed her sword. Her eyes picked up sight of the calluses on her hands that were bulging out some. Turning her hand slightly, she also saw how red her palm was. That couldn't be good. The last time her hands were like this, she woke up the next day with painful blisters that made simple tasks quite laboring.
