Calon of Druig became a sword master at thirty, proceeding to turn the tide of a hopeless battle. For this, he would have been awarded gems and gold and even lands, but he turned it all down and only requested the use of the imperial armory. He continued to wander the continent after his feat, and eventually ended up here, at a fancy castle full of stupid nobles anyway.

He would have left long ago. He should have left long ago. But the bright, shy, talented child who met him the night he was hired needed him to stay and train her. She needed him to be the only decent Syfh-damned adult in this castle who can’t get fired at the drop of a hat. And never let it be said that Calon of Druig leaves unfinished the jobs he starts.

Irenis, ten years old now and his best student, sprints around the training grounds in the gathering dusk. Her blue braid flaps behind her as she skids to a stop next to him. “How long was that?”

Calon checks his stopwatch. Irenis helpfully summons a light ball for him to see it by (and promptly sneezes). “Six seconds flat.”

Irenis dances in place. “That’s my best time, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

“It is. Good job.” Calon pats her on the head and she leans up into his hand, beaming. It’s wonderful and heartbreaking in equal measure to see her so bright and happy. She’s never this happy near anyone else. Even the worst battles never affected the soldiers around him so. But then, this is a war that Irenis has been fighting, not a single battle. And she hasn’t let it grind her down. She’s still alive and eager to learn. “I’m very proud of you.”

Irenis beams up at him.

“Tomorrow, I can start you on learning to use aura.” Aura, the final and most powerful tool in a sword master’s toolbox. One cannot become a sword master without mastering aura. Irenis, as the talented if raw mage she is, shouldn’t have a problem learning it.

Irenis dances in place again. “Okay! Sounds good!”

—

The youngest sword master on the continent was twenty-three, and had been through hell to get that strong, that fast. Suffering was the key to his success, and he had lost everything before he mastered his abilities.

Irenis becomes a sword master the week before her twelfth birthday.

—

Irenis blinks at the destroyed target. Then she lowers her sword and glances over at Master Calon, who has a very sad look for a second before he walks over and pats her on the head. “Good job. You’re a prodigy unlike any seen in the nation before.”

Irenis smiles up at him. I did it! I really did it! Even Aulan hasn’t been able to use more than basic aura! I really CAN be a shining knight! She dances in place as a thought occurs to her. A knight would be SO USEFUL. Maybe they’d let me eat steak, or sit at the table, or—

“Listen, Irenis.” Master Calon sighs. “I am very proud of you. But I wouldn’t advise telling your family.”

Irenis stares up at him in betrayal.

“If they haven’t wanted to acknowledge you before, they probably never will. Their hate for you goes deeper than merely wanting you to be useful. Revealing your talent would probably only give them reason to despise you.”

Probably, he says. And her family is fair! The adults, anyway! She’ll show them and they’ll finally stop people from bullying her!

But if she disobeys Master Calon, he’ll be mad at her. Irenis decides to wait a little. Grandmother is going on a trip in a few days and Master Calon is going with her as her guard. She’ll wait until he leaves to disobey him.

Finally the day comes that Grandmother and Master Calon leave. Irenis watches them from the walls until they fade into the distance, then runs into the armory and grabs the sword that she always trains with. Then she runs to the great hall, where her grandfather has just finished up holding court.

Everyone is there. Awesome. Irenis runs in and holds up her sword. “Look! Look look look!”

Everyone looks. Irenis focuses her aura into her sword and it blazes like Aunt Adylyc’s favorite opal necklace. “I’m a sword master now! Isn’t that so useful?” Will you love me now?

Father and her uncles gape. Grandfather stands and sweeps his hand out. “How dare you pull such a vile trick?!”

Irenis freezes. “Huh?”

“I suppose you thought that if the vassals saw your foolish display, I would be forced to play along?! Not so. Guard, take this impostor away! How dare you fake such an auspicious accomplishment?”

“I didn’t!” Irenis struggles against the guards as they grab her arms. “I didn’t fake it, I really am a sword master, it’s not a trick!”

Grandfather glares at her and snorts. “Of course. Rainbow aura? That just seems like someone trying to look special.”

Irenis hiccups, her eyes stinging, as the guards drag her out of the room. She can hear Grandfather declaring to the room that she’s just a servant’s child with delusions of grandeur. “I didn’t fake it.”

The guards don’t take her to her closet. They drag her to the dungeon. Irenis fights as soon as they open the door down, but if she yanks away from them she’ll crack her skull. She can’t break their grip without breaking their fingers. So they manage to toss her into a cell.

Irenis swallows as the door slams shut and the guards return upstairs. At least she’s alone in this cell. This is where the Casmenocs keep troublemakers like assassins and treacherous servants. She could easily have been tossed in with someone who would hurt her.

She could get out. She’s a sword master now; her strength is on par with two men twice her size. But that would just make her family even angrier. She bites the insides of her cheeks to keep from making noise as tears start to run down her cheeks. I didn’t mean to misbehave.

The sunlight through the tiny window goes from white to pink to red before anyone comes to see her. Irenis swallows as she hears her father’s voice and his wife’s behind him.

Grandfather, Father, Father’s wife Jaredis, and assorted cousins all gather in front of Irenis’s cell. Irenis swallows and bows deeply, clasping her hands in front of her. “I—I apologize for whatever I did wrong. I didn’t mean to misbehave.”

Jaredis sniffs. It makes sense that she doesn’t like Irenis. Father and Mother were never married, and in fact if Irenis counts back she can trace her conception to the last time Jaredis had to go south for her health. “I told you keeping her around wasn’t worth the trouble.”

“Do you have an idea of how to get rid of her?” Father sneers at her. “You couldn’t have just lived quietly on our grace. You had to cause trouble.”

Irenis blinks back tears. “I thought that it would be useful for me to be a knight.”

“Useful.” Grandfather snorts. “I see my wife’s been filling your head with nonsense. How could you ever become a knight? You will never be worthy of the title.”

The cousins all snicker.

“She was running an experiment with you. Unfortunately, your little stunt has made you too conspicuous to be of further use. I am ending the experiment.”

Irenis bows again. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fix the problem.” Grandfather snaps his fingers. Irenis looks up in time to see one of the knights holding her sword. Are they giving it back?

The knight instead drives it down onto the stones, shattering it. Irenis gasps as pain flares in her chest.

“You will remain in here to reflect on your actions while we decide what to do with you.” Everyone turns and leaves. Irenis collapses on the floor, cutting her palms on the shards of her sword. She gathers a few shards and curls up around them, finally sobbing piteously.

I’m sorry, Master Calon. I should have listened to you. You were right.

—

Irenis is in the cell for two days before some guards come to get her. They chain her up so her arms go numb and drag her up into the receiving hall. A group of knights are loitering by the side of the room. Grandfather is sitting in his chair. He snaps his fingers and the guards kick her into kneeling before him.

“Disobeying your margrave is treason, and attempting to upstage a true member of the household could easily be seen as insubordination and rebellion. I could have you beheaded.”

Irenis bows her head, biting back tears.

“However, I have graciously decided to grant you an opportunity.” Grandfather waves a hand at the line of knights. “You will be sent off to the Veriths to battle on the ramparts.”