Erivale: The Lost Princess

Chapter 11: Part 2

The day after court with Guinevere and my mind was caught up on the rebel Elf. His scream still echoed in my ears, and the thought that he would have to die made me feel queasy. Execution for sharing rebel propaganda felt so extreme. But what did I know? The king and queen have had years of experience in ruling a country, I had only had a few weeks of lessons.

The other lingering sentiments from the time in court was a fit of burning anger with Guinevere. The entire time she had basically just used it as an opportunity to make me look like an insignificant fool compared to herself. She even used Ulric against me.

The small tendril of jealousy loomed inside of me as I thought of Guinevere and Ulric again. Now I was even more irritated, and I had my first combat lesson today – with Ulric.

Maybe the only good thing about combat training is that I was actually able to wear pants. As a crown princess, I was supposed to be dressed in formal attire, basically 24/7. While Erivale wasn't so antiquated that it required all women to wear dresses, royals, and members of the courts were generally supposed to.

For my lesson, I was provided with a standard-issue military training uniform: black leather pants, a loose white shirt that tied at the neck, and thin, brown leather boots that laced to the ankle.

Gerard walked me to the southeast corner of the palace, which housed the rooms of the knights and the armory. Outside were the barracks and training buildings. There were some tools for training outdoors as well.

The first building we came to was made of the same white stone as the palace. It reminded me of a large barn or an airplane hangar with a curved roof. Stepping inside the space was expansive, yet it was filled to the brim with mats, sparring circles, and equipment. It looked like the kind of place to always be busy.

Today it was empty except for Ulric, who was stood on the far mat. His sword was secured in his hand, and he was moving through motions of attack and defensive positions. He moved like water, stepping in and out of every move with the speed and grace of a ballet dancer.

Gerard's hooves echoed in the silent room, and Ulric paused in his motions to turn towards us. Unlike myself, he was not wearing the standard edition training uniform. Instead, he was wearing what he always wore: black leather pants, black boots, and a loose black shirt that he pushed up around his elbows.

Gerard was dismissed from the room, and all Ulric said was, "Let's begin."

He had me warm up by jogging around the perimeter of the extensive training facility a few times and running through some stretches. When I was done and slightly out of breath, because even jogging was somewhat taxing for me, he began with one of his classic lectures.

"We will start today's lesson with sword training. This is a longsword." He held up the black hilted weapon. "It is straight with a double-edged blade. It is also quite heavy as you probably found out while wielding mine." He glared at me, referencing the moment when I stole his sword in an attempt to save Gerard. "What you did was reckless and stupid. It takes years of practice to properly handle a sword. Today we begin with the basics."

Ulric tossed me a wooden practice sword that I clumsily caught. It was heavier than I was expecting, and I held onto it with two hands to be able to raise it up.

"First is the ovenfra or overhead attack." He moved his body into a ready position with his left foot forward and his right foot backward. He placed both of his hands firmly on his sword and held it upright. "Step forward and swing the sword down and use the left foot as a sturdy base."

He demonstrated the move, and the gentle whistle of the sword slicing through the air indicated it's deadly path. I moved my feet to mimic his ready position – with my left foot forward and my hands raised. I felt somewhat silly, swinging the wooden sword down, and it felt odd in my hands.