Soul Calibur Short Story Collection

Perfection is Impossible

The night had finally settled in over Castle Dumas, but not all was silent within the walls of this beautiful French estate. Upon the rooftops, the young heiress to the Sorel name, Amy, had made some time out of her schedule to fit in training. The sky glowed with an ethereal darkness as occasional flakes of snow fell to the floor. The clicking of her gothic heels was muted by the white sheet that had fallen onto this barracks.

Amy was using this time to rebuild the strength in her leg. An old wound that she had suffered as a child still showed itself to this very day, and recently Amy had found herself re-injuring the same leg. An ambush just outside of the castle walls had led to Amy being stabbed through the thigh. Anything Amy had received, though, was nothing compared to the damage that she had dealt.

Most people would call what Amy was capable of doing a gift. They would have marked her for greatness as a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield; a tactician who simply could not be beaten. She could size up an enemy at a glance, find their weaknesses and kill them with surgical precision before her opponent even realised what had hit them. Sure, she wasn't physically strong. But flesh is soft. It doesn't require strength to pierce, merely knowledge to know where to pierce.

But Amy didn't want that fate.

She had grown up on the streets of Rouen. She loathed other people and their company. She was always referred to as Red the Loner, and that was something she was contempt with. But then one day, the man who would inevitably adopt her appeared. He was panicking, desperately trying to evade guards that were on his trail. She saw him run, but when the guard asked where he went, the girl told them the wrong way.

To this day, she still didn't understand why she helped him escape. It confused her. From there, the two have been inseparable for years. The pair were of mutual benefit to one another; Amy taught Raphael how to thrive on the streets, and Raphael in turn taught Amy more noble teachings, such as how to read and write, as well as how to swing a sword.

But now... Raphael was different. He spent his entire time holed away in the Library. She had not even been allowed to go in, and the only times she would see him now was when he would travel from his private quarters to the library first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Amy was looked after by the maids and herself.

Shaking her head to block out the cold, Amy would raise the rapier she had been gifted and practice with simple thrusts. She knew that the ground would be slippery, so this would be a good time to practice. In combat, one had to always be prepared for whatever may be thrown at you. To be surprised is to accept death.

"The snow must be three inches deep already. I best be careful," Amy would whisper as she raised the tip of the blade to be aligned with her chin. This way, she knew that she would have her blade at the right height to deflect any strikes that may come at her. From there, she would first practice the basics. To most, working on simple movement suck as walking forwards or backwards seemed so simple, there was no point in going over it. But most weaknesses showed when moving; one was most vulnerable at that point.

Amy took a few steps forwards, making sure that the blade did not move too much out of place. From there, she would step back and do the same thing. Each step was made with care, but also with a sense of urgency. Her aim was not to move as fast as she could, but as smoothly as she could.

Once these simple drills were done, Amy took some time to approach the wall of the castle and look out. From here, she could see a neighbouring village, the dim torch light echoing out into the night sky. Her breathing was slightly parted, each exhale releasing a small cloud in front of her. Only a few years ago, she wouldn't have cared less about this view but now... it was pretty.