She placed one foot forward, turned her body slightly sideways, and raised the sword.
Something like that.
Her gaze and her posture were uncertain. As if she remembered a movement, but it did not look quite right.
Valir did not speak immediately. He observed her for a few seconds, letting his eyes move down to her feet, then back up to her shoulders, to the way she held the grip.
“Hmm... you really have held a sword before,” he said. It was not a question.
“Yes. In a group...” she said, letting the rest fade away. She could not talk about college here.
“Hmm... Forgive me a moment...” he said, and stepped closer.
Up close, the difference in their height struck differently. Lyra was tall, and no one would ever call her fragile. And yet, in front of him, she felt tiny. Her head barely reached above his chest. His body seemed to cover her entirely, and that alone did not help her composure at all.
Valir touched her wrist. The contact was brief, steady. So simple and clearly practical, and yet Lyra immediately felt her body tense.
“You are holding it too tightly,” he said.
She lowered her gaze to her hand.
“I thought that was correct,” she replied.
With a small movement, Valir pressed against her wooden sword with his own.
Hers shifted easily.
“If you grip it like that, you will tire yourself before you need to use it, and you may even injure your hands,” he said in the tone of an instructor.
It was clear he had done this countless times and had indeed trained many knights. Lyra loosened her grip as he told her.
Valir took half a step back.
“And your stance needs work.”
“That bad?” Lyra let out a small breath.
“No... It simply needs improvement,” he replied.
Then he moved behind her. Lyra sensed it before he even touched her. The change in the air, his shadow, the warmth of his body. His hands rested gently, almost discreetly, on her shoulders, and he turned her body slightly to the side.
“Do not stand squarely in front of your opponent.”
His voice sounded low, close to her ear.
With his foot, he shifted hers slightly.
“This way, you present less of a target,” he said, adjusting her position.
Lyra tried to focus on her stance. On where her weight should be, on how her knees should bend.
Valir touched her waist lightly. Only as much as needed.
“Lower yourself a little,” he instructed.
She obeyed.
He was right. She felt the difference in her balance immediately. Her footing felt steadier now. They remained like that for a moment, long enough for him to make sure she had found a better position, and then he stepped away.
Only then did Lyra take a breath she had not realized she had been holding.
He raised his wooden sword.
“Now,” he said.
Lyra tightened her fingers around the grip again and looked at him in confusion.
“Now what?”
The corner of his mouth shifted almost imperceptibly.
“Attack.”
Lyra looked at him for a second and then moved. Her sword came down toward his shoulder, but he deflected it with a small turn of his wrist. The sound of wood striking wood rang clearly through the empty courtyard.
He made it look so easy.
“Again,” he said.
She attacked a second time, moving a little bit faster now. Valir shifted half a step to the side, and her blade passed through empty air. Lyra stopped and looked at him.
“Do not raise your shoulders,” he told her, pointing with the wooden sword toward her right shoulder.
“You show what you are about to do before you do it,” he continued.
Lyra frowned. If there was one thing she disliked, it was making mistakes. She felt a spark of stubbornness wake inside her.
“It’s all right... That is something that can be corrected...” His voice held nothing soothing. He was instructing her. He raised his sword again.
“Let me show you.”
He demonstrated a movement slowly. The turn of the torso, the shift of weight, the clean line of the blade. Without hurry, without display.
And precisely because of that, it looked impressive.
Lyra nodded, but her attention did not remain only on the blade.
She watched the way his shoulders moved beneath the black shirt, the way the motion truly began from his body and not from his arm. She lost herself in the moment, not enough to stare openly, but enough to miss what he was saying.
Valir stopped. He slowly lifted his gaze to her face.
Lyra understood at once that she had missed something he said, and he had noticed it.
“Sorry... I wasn’t paying attention...” she said before thinking.
“You were paying attention,” his voice was steady.
Lyra fell silent.
“Just not to the right thing.”
A hint of a smile passed briefly over his face.
Heat rushed suddenly to her cheeks.
Wonderful... Truly wonderful, Lyra, she thought.
To his credit, Valir said nothing else. But he did not leave her time to drown in her embarrassment.
“Your turn. Again.”
They moved once more.
This time, as he had shown her.
The wooden swords struck, again and again.
Lyra was more tired now, but somehow more focused too. She lost her balance fewer times, corrected her shoulders... After a while, her forearms burned. The sword began to feel heavy.
Valir deflected her final attack, and this time, he did not continue. He raised his hand.
“That is enough for today.”
Lyra lowered hers at once, taking deep breaths.
“That was much more exhausting than I remembered,” she said.
Valir rested his sword against his shoulder.
“Your group was probably lenient with you.”
“Now I am certain of it,” she replied, laughing softly.
“For a first day, it was not bad,” he told her calmly.
Like an instructor assessing his student.
Lyra raised one eyebrow, a gesture she made often when she heard something she did not quite believe.
“Coming from you, that almost sounds like praise.”
“Do not get used to it.”
The reply came so dryly that it made her smile again.
She bent down, rested the wooden sword briefly against the ground, and stretched her fingers. Her palms burned, the muscles in her arms ached, and her entire body carried that sweet fatigue that came only after truly exerting yourself.
When she lifted her gaze, Valir was watching her. The silence that followed was not awkward.
“Tomorrow. Same time.”
Lyra looked at him.
“I’ll be here,” she answered, letting her gaze drop briefly to her sword before returning to him.
He nodded once, then placed the wooden sword on the bench behind him and turned toward the steps of the Headquarters.
His steps were calm, without the slightest sign that the training had demanded anything from him at all. She set her own sword aside and followed, keeping a small distance between them.
The sun had set by then, and the firelight from torches and lanterns illuminated the courtyard and the road.
Before they went inside, he stopped and turned toward her.
“You should wrap your wrists tonight. They are not used to this yet.”
Lyra looked at him.
There he was...
The Grand Master, with that familiar attentiveness and care he showed everyone...
“All right,” she said at last.
Valir nodded once more and entered the building.
She remained alone in the courtyard for a little while. She cast a glance toward the city stretching below.
Her palms burned, her shoulders ached, and her pride had taken more blows than she would easily admit.
And yet, despite the exhaustion, something inside her felt steadier than it had when she began.
Tomorrow, she would be here again.
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Thank you for reading "Rookie of the Wind".
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