City of Elyse, Ezra – House Sol

“Again!” ordered Terra as she slowly circled the room. Her stormy gray eyes set on her daughter like a hawk on prey. Her fingers pensively rested over her lips, hiding each of her commands.

“A Cleric must never falter…”

Myra rolled her eyes at her mother, her face flushed red from both fatigue and frustration. Her breathing heavy from the last hard-fought rounds.

How many times have I heard that before? she wondered, trying to collect herself. And how many more times must I do this today?!

She was exhausted, and the room smelled of nothing but sweat. Even with the windows vented and the many candles lit above, the air felt dense, almost damp. So much that anyone who could have entered from the outside would have immediately questioned the intensity of their training. They had been going for what seemed like an eternity without rest.

The room itself was rather large, with tall concrete walls decorated in an endless supply of weapons and shields, all in some form or fashion brandishing the Sol family emblem; a red sun with a fiery phoenix emerging from its center. A testament to the nation’s perseverance and the ferocity of its many prominent leaders, The Clerics. Above them hung a large, fine-iron chandelier emanating light to the far corners of the arched ceilings. The only entrance, and exit, to the room, were a pair of large wooden doors with carved intricate designs, followed by a narrow red carpet that only stretched but a few feet in, conveniently found behind her mother now. She, however, stood center in the room, in a decently sized marble circle that for the past few hours had been her only semblance of safety, and ironically, an endless ring of combat as well.

In front of Myra stood three royal guards, each fully suited in padded armor and wielding unique wooden weapons: two short aiming swords and one lance. Their armor was scuffed and torn in numerous places from her previous attacks, but as beaten as they were, they still served as better protection than that of her own light training garments.

Sharp pains pulsed throughout her body from time to time, convulsing mainly in her arms and legs. A result no doubt from her waning defense and the continuous strain of the day. She knew she would be bruised and aching for some time after, but her mind had already acclimated. She had to continue. She had to keep going, or it’d get worse.

A little more, Myra. she thought to herself, Keep it together…

She took a deep breath in, ignoring the burning in her lungs and a vague sense of vertigo.

Just a little more, I’m sure…

It was little encouragement.

One guard noticed her and perked up, standing at a brief attention to speak and raising one hand to his chest in salute.

“High Lady Terra, forgive me, but maybe we should rest for a moment. Lady Myra here looks very weary.”

Terra paused her pacing, focusing a surprised gaze on the guard and then giving off a semi-devious smirk.

“Well, Myra?” she asked, “What say you? Are you falteringyet?”

Myra took a moment to think, feigning a fix of her crimson red hair back into a ponytail. Her fingers danced with her worn hair tie but still struggled to keep everything back. As she tightened the last knot, she could feel her hands tremble. Hopefully, it had gone unnoticed.

“It sounds to me like he’s the one that’s tired, mother…” she scoffed, brushing a few more strands from her view, attempting to appear ever confident. “If anything, we can rest for his sake. I need none.”

Terra returned her smiling gaze towards the guards.

“Well then, you already have my answer… Again!”

With no further hesitation, the guards saluted sharply, readied their weapons, and began a slow, uniformed advance. Deep down, Myra cursed herself for answering the way she did. She could tell they wanted this to be over just as much as she did. Yet, here they were, once again, because of her.

“Make this one count, my little ember.” Terra joked. Her crooked smirk even more prominent than before.

An unusual silence filled the room as they moved closer to Myra. Each guard remained aligned at the shoulders, in sync with each other’s steps. This was a slightly different approach than before, but it presented a few new options. She had little time to decide what happened next.

They had already learned attacking independently wouldn’t bode well. During the first few attempts, she made quick work of them, applying just enough force to stop their advances without injury. However, her restraint was not rewarded as they progressed throughout the day. They used more complex tactics: rushing to surround her, baiting her, and even once a full-on surprise charge. Each round proved an even greater challenge and required a larger effort on her part. And while ultimately successful with each, they were still making sure she was learning along the way. A brutal yet ‘genius’ training method designed by none other than her own mother, the former commander of the Ezran Royal Guard.

In truth, she was slightly surprised at how well they were keeping up with her and how much more intense they were from her usual training subjects. Her mother had made it clear that this newer regimen was beyond anything they had ever done before. It went to show that the ERG were more than ordinary soldiers or thugs. In fact, each of them was handpicked for their battle prowess and assigned very specific roles to protect and guide the clerical family, uniquely standing out from each other and the rest of the Ezran army. After today’s sessions, in addition to a countless number of other lectures, she should have known better what to expect.

What is it this time? she thought to herself, taking the defense. It can’t be another ‘wall,’ can it?

With each step forward they took, she instinctively took one back, trying to buy as much time as she could. Sadly, she knew this also worked to their advantage since she was quickly running out of room. Her eyes scanned the three and their surroundings, praying for a good opening to work with, but as long as they continued moving in unison, there was none to be found. Acting now would only lead to a most certain disadvantage and a painful lesson with it.

This would be so much easier with magic… she continued thinking, adjusting her stance by raising her practice blade just above her head.

“You are running out of room, Myra. Attack or yield…” announced Terra, unimpressed so far.

She scanned once more, but just as her mother began to pace again, she thought she caught a glimmer of hope. The two outside guards took extra steps, slowly forming the beginning of an arrowed formation.

It’s a wedge!

They were trying to corner her and cut off her chances of escape. An annoying yet straightforward tactic. Alas, not at all a problem for her skills.

She didn’t want to give the tell away too quickly, but she couldn’t help but smile wide at her find.

Suddenly she dashed at her opponents with incredible speed, landing directly between them. The group of guards, caught off guard, instinctively raised their weapons to block and tried to widen the gap, but before they could react, Myra had already struck the one in the center, breaking their wedge attempt before it had even taken place.

She landed a solid swing on the first guard’s torso, following through with her strike and quickly landing another to the back of the neck, knocking him down. She then promptly swung her feet behind her, elegantly gliding towards her next opponent while keeping her weapon readied, pointed directly down her line of sight. The second guard had already lunged, blindly thrusting with the tip of his lance.

Despite her muscles begging her to stop, her body flowed. Like she had seen everything that needed to be done all at once, and that was enough for her to act again. After the first motion, she simply did, emptying everything from her mind for that very moment. There was no room for pain or doubt or any cause for hesitation. Only the simplicity of the fight and the rush that drowned her with it. She dodged to the inside, kicking the second guard low and elbowing him in the ribs as hard as she could. Each strike was precise and executed to the finest degree, with ease.

She laced the spine of her wooden sword between his shoulder blades and around his neck, reaching up to grab its sharp face, squeezing tight. In one smooth motion, she twisted her body and slammed the guard down to the ground using their combined weight against him. Wanting to keep the momentum going, she rolled off the second guard and on towards the third, but this time was met with an expecting force. She had only swung upwards just in time to counter.

She tried pushing off but with little luck. The third guard had gained and kept the greater pressure in the stalemate, occasionally adding to it with a few extra steps. He clearly figured that if he couldn’t best her in combat, his next viable option was to push her out of bounds for the win.

Beads of sweat rolled down her face as she continued to push back. Her feet slid in place, and she felt her muscles cramping. Her body slowly giving out. This stalemate was not one she would win. She had been stalled for so long now that her adrenaline rush began to fade. And with the first two guards still conscious and regaining, even if she could, both her time and options still seemed limited.

Thinking quickly, she extended her left hand and snapped her fingers, causing a small flame to flicker in her palm. As the last guard’s focus momentarily shifted, eyes widening with great concern, she felt the pressure lapse, briefly leaving her shoulders. She spun off the block and swung full force towards his head, no longer caring for restraint. She shut her eyes tight, forcing her body to follow through, and for a split second, she thought she had lost control. It was only by Elora’s grace that she managed to stop just before impact.

The guard froze, dropping his sword at her feet as she pressed her own against his cheek. Silence once again filled the room. Another breath sucked in before finally Myra relaxed her arms, allowing him to move away unscathed. Images of the fight flashed in her mind as she tried to reflect on all she had just done.

She staggered backward a bit as she fought to catch her breath again. Surely, this had been her quickest and most efficient spar of the day. Of course, her mother would undoubtedly object to the use of magic, no matter how slight, but she was overall impressed with this performance. Perhaps that would make up for her unsanctioned improv.

As she looked around, she could hear the groans and moans of the other two guards while they reached for their weapons, struggling to get back up for another round.

“I’d say that marks the end of today’s training, wouldn’t you?” she grinned confidently.

But Terra crossed her arms and began moving towards her, slowly weaving through each guard as they repositioned themselves, glancing over them as if inspecting for some assurance to continue. Her long golden hair swayed with each step until she came face to face with Myra, standing just over the one abandoned training sword.

“Reckless.” she plainly stated. A cold glare beat down on Myra more intensely than the past few rounds combined. “… and not even slightly amusing.”

Myra’s eyes widened in disbelief. Even with her ‘bending’ of the rules, this was far from what she expected to hear on a clear best run.

“Reckless?!” Myra nearly shouted. “How exactly was that reckless?!”

“Backing yourself into a corner, waiting for the last possible moment to act, grabbing the blade of your weapon?!” responded Terra, counting off each offense with her fingers. “Honestly, what did you expect? Your performance reeked of desperation. It’s as if you ignored everything I’ve taught you up to this point.”

“But—”

Terra stopped her.

“Do it again!” she ordered, snapping at her guards to get back into position. “This time, no holding back. If she has enough time to flash a fancy spell in your face, then you have enough time to strike her down.”

Myra tensed up, feeling a wave of anger build up inside of her. She had done so well but was still being punished. Not only that, but the guards were obviously well beyond their limits. How could her mother justify punishing them so harshly for something that she alone was responsible for? She had always held her tongue before, but this was too much.

“No. Absolutely not! You’ve always taught me to take advantage of a situation! Pray, tell me what was wrong with that?!”

“To take advantage and to take control…” Terra quickly corrected, “Not only were you sloppy, but you also broke my one and only rule! Did you think I would reward that sleight of hand simply because you won? Magic is not a means of control, nor is it ever fully under control. The price paid does not outweigh its benefit in the heat of battle!”

“I wasn’t trying to hide it! And it was only a little! Since when have I ever lacked control over my own spells?!” Myra argued, “Besides, I wouldn’t really consider that a spell… more like—”

“Fire magically erupting from your fingertips?” Terra finished for her, raising an eyebrow.

“The candles above us hold more fire than whatever it was I did…”

Terra sighed, “The size of the spell does not matter! Your dependency on it does. I’ve always told you—”

Her voice faded away. A new wave of regret now washed over Myra as she finally gave in to another of her mother’s famous beratings. She went on and on about the dangers of magic and how there was always a price to pay. How steel was far more reliable and less of a risk when it mattered most. In a sense, she was always right in her judgments, and Myra did value her feedback whenever she gave it, but this had always felt more like an opinion than anything else. She just couldn’t see how something so powerful and so effective could be as dangerous as she claimed, especially when only used in moderation. She had also felt her father was adamant about just the opposite during her few training sessions with him. He would insist on its use. After all, wasn’t magic a gift from Elora? Shouldn’t she show her gratitude by using it when it was needed?

In any case, she knew she could have dragged on the fight and maybe figured out another way to win. It was just a matter of committing the time. Time she valued. Time that had been counting against her from the very start. She read the situation as quickly as she could, and a minor spell, even as a distraction, was the easiest way out she could think of. Taking the time to think of a better offensive would have meant the same opportunity for her opponents and their defense. Her father always said, ‘‘Warriors always fight hard, but winners also fight smart.” It was a sound strategy.

“…You think just like him! Always leaping in - Are you even listening?!” Terra asked sternly.

“Yes, mother…” Myra replied, rolling her eyes again. Her voice was now nearly an annoyed whisper.

Terra let out another heavy sigh.

“You take this lightly now, but you have so much left to learn. Had this been a Dominion Sentinel, your little display wouldn’t have even worked.”

“They are allies…” Myra whispered again, defiant as ever. “They always have been.”

“—Elora’s mercy! What of a Hound? What do you think would happen with one of them?”

“We haven’t had to deal with their kind in years, mother. Barely anyone remembers what they even look like except for father. It’s not like that’s changing any time with how rare their skirmishes have become.” Myra said a little louder now, gripping her practice sword tightly. “And I’m not training for the Great War! What all are you worried about?”

“Please.” Terra snorted. “Only a fool sits and stares at the pack of starving wolves…”

Chills ran down Myra’s spine. The words echoed in her head as she met her mother’s angry stare. She wanted to keep justifying herself but found no words to return. She knew what was meant, and the point had already been made.

“The guard stands relieved!” Terra ordered loudly, picking up the sword at her feet. “Tell Commander Kalum I’ll need five fresh for tomorrow.”

Five?! She clearly holds a grudge… I should have stayed quiet…

The guards once again saluted without question and began their hurried exit. Terra twirled the wooden sword a few times with ease, cutting sharply through the air around her as she waited for the room to finally clear. Her white robe fluttered with each of her motions.

“Complacency and ignorance will always be enemies of the vigilant. You have so much potential, Myra. Don’t waste it with them…” she continued, inspecting the wooden sword a bit closer now, avoiding eye contact. “We all know what you’re capable of, but focusing on only one strength in hopes of covering all your weaknesses is a mistake a Cleric can not afford. Not him, and certainly not you. Your skill with a sword should be just as natural as uttering any spell, and balancing both is what’s going to set you apart from him… I mean, from everyone else…”

Of course, by “everyone else,” she meant the rest of the Sol bloodline. The great descendants of The Mother herself.

Myra couldn’t help but notice a change in tone. She no longer seemed as angry as her eyes had hinted before but instead seemed a little concerned. She could only assume she was thinking and speaking of her father now.

“Do you think me lacking?” she asked.

“I think that if you wish to surpass your father, in both skill and leadership, then yes. Perfection should be your goal. Nothing less will suffice, and nothing less will satisfy me. You should hold yourself to that same standard.”

Myra’s grip tightened even more. It started to hurt.

Encouraging… she grumbled.

Terra lifted her sword towards Myra, its tip stopping inches from her nose.

“I say things with purpose, little ember. We train like we do because we need to, not because we want to. I expect you to follow each of my instructions to the letter for your own good.”

“I’m not one of your guards…”

“No. But you are my daughter and the next Cleric. You would be wise to do so anyway.”

Myra scoffed. She swung her sword, knocking her mother’s away from her face, and then stormed out of the circle. She understood her reasoning and why the training was difficult, but there was a difference between teaching and belittling. If there was anything she couldn’t stand, it was being made lesser than what she knew she was.

“I don’t want to see you fail, Myra. My training pales in comparison to what your father has faced.”

“And I wager he hasn’t had any problem using his magic to overcome his challenges!” Myra shouted back.

She half expected her mother’s face to turn red with anger, but seconds later, her furrowed brow relaxed. Another sinister smile formed on Terra’s face.

“It certainly seems like you still have some fight in you. It must be nice being so high and mighty all the time.”

“Enough taunting, mother.” Myra groaned, tossing her wooden sword back in one of the nearby racks. “Even at my best, I can’t meet your standards. Isn’t that what you just said?”

“No… that is not what I said at all. But since you’re so sure about everything, all the time, how about a small wager to settle? Care to put your ego where your sword is?”

Terra twisted her hair into a tight bun and began slowly rolling up the sleeves of her courtly white robes. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“You and me. No limits. Spells included. Let me show you how to control the flow of battle properly…”

Her voice hardened, emanating confidence that overshadowed even Myra’s at the beginning of the last round.

“Win and be done with me. Lose, and well…we go again until you do. Sound fair?”

Myra swallowed hard, forgetting about the pool of emotions she was just soaking in. She had sparred her mother a few times in the past, none a pleasant experience, but never had she an advantage like magic against her. Her mother was no Cleric, but her reputation spoke for itself, and now, after all was said and done, she was asking for her to cut loose just to taunt her. Perhaps this was a chance to prove herself. Perhaps it was a trap. She wasn’t about to waste an opportunity to find out.

“Are you sure, mother? I could hurt you.” she said, her actions already betraying her words. She eagerly grabbed a new sword from the rack and snapped another, larger flame into existence, ignoring the intensified pain throughout her entire body.

“You can certainly try, my little ember.” Terra waved her off, dropping into a low offensive stance.

“Now, now. No need to overdo it. We just got done rebuilding the east training room after all!” said a familiar voice. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of the last incident here now, would we?”

They both turned their attention towards the entrance, but Myra recognized the voice instantly. A man in rich red and white garments was now walking towards them. His tousled hair was nearly as crimson as her own, and a broad smile filled with perfect white teeth reached from ear to ear at the sight of them. Behind him were two more royal guards, this time clad in their traditional red-steel armor. The Sol insignia was visibly embossed on their chest plates.

“Father!”

“Blair!”

Terra immediately bowed, but Myra couldn’t contain herself. Sheer joy overwhelmed her at the sight of her father. She ran to embrace him, nearly knocking him down.

“So much fire! Maybe I should have let your mother burn you out after all.” he laughed.

Myra shook her head, slightly annoyed. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Yes, Blair. When did you arrive? And why weren’t you announced?” added Terra.

“Not too long ago, I promise,” he replied, walking over towards her. “I wanted to surprise the two of you earlier today, but I had to make a quick stop at Ryu Ku on the trip back. It’s been a longer journey than usual, so I hope I’m not intruding. I’m eager to catch up with you both.”

“Of course not!” Terra answered. “Your timing couldn’t have been better. I was just teaching our daughter about the importance of swordsmanship.”

He flashed a guilty smile, opening his arms wide for her anyway. Terra couldn’t resist but to hug him tight and grace him with a quick but tender kiss. Myra turned red at the unexpected sight, looking away.

“This is the training room, you know.”

“What?” Terra asked innocently, “Did that truly bother you?”

“Forgive me for trying to enforce your standards, mother. I forget that’s something only you can do here.”

Terra laughed. “I haven’t seen your father in weeks, Myra. I think Elora can forgive my openness just this once.”

Just as well as you forgave my one use of magic, I wager.

“…But she is right, Blair. You know how I get. Unless you wish to join us, this will have to wait.”

Blair gently took the wooden sword from Terra’s hand, winking at her in the process.

“Swordsmanship, huh? I don’t think that’s really one of my strengths.”

“‘Focusing on only one strength to cover all weaknesses is a mistake no Cleric should make.’” mocked Myra, intentionally staring at her mother.

“Is that what she told you?” Blair laughed again. Terra shot them both a venomous glare, snatching the wooden sword back.

“Alright, alright! No need for that. I was only joking.” he pleaded. “Besides, I come bearing a bit more serious news. It doesn’t hurt to try to lighten your mood up a bit, does it?”

“The Summit?” she asked. “What has happened now? It’s unusual to be summoned so much for so long.”

“Right…” Blair nodded. His smile faded. The joy in his emerald, green eyes slipped away as he pondered on how to proceed now that his usual comedic distraction had failed him.

Ever since the end of the Great War, one of the many responsibilities of the Cleric was to represent Ezra in a peace summit between the three nations. Aside from Ezra, there was The Dragon’s Dominion, the self-proclaimed ‘Empire’ of Eden and summit hosts, and Kraig, the northern barbaric lands. The summits were supposed to be an occasional calling, but Blair had just returned from his fifth one this year. An abnormally demanding occurrence, and a potentially bad omen.

Myra motioned for her father’s guards to leave the room, and the three of them stood in silence until he finally spoke again.

“It’s a wonder how Elora’s light shines so bright, and yet here we are stumbling amongst ourselves trying to catch even a small glimpse of her glory. I feel like sometimes we are the ones shielding our own eyes, don’t you think?” he smiled, looking out a nearby window. His eyes squinted as they met with small rays of inbound light.

“At least you’ll be better prepared than I was, my little ember. When you finally pass through your trials, you’ll have quite the challenges ahead of you. You must be excited.”

“As…ever…” she answered half-heartedly.

The trials weren’t exactly her favorite topic, and yet it was all anyone could talk about— her upcoming ascension as Cleric. The reason for all the training. The reason for all her trouble. She tried her best to hide it when she had to, but it was hard not to worry. Unlike sparring, it brought an unwanted complexity to her life— one she was beginning to dread.

All the same, she spotted the stalling tactic when she saw it. If it wasn’t a joke, it was some sort of cryptic run-around. Her father was never good at delivering bad news. But just then, Blair pulled out an envelope from his sleeve, holding it up over his shoulder for all to see. The broken Dominion seal showed it had been opened and read already.

He cleared his throat.

“The Emperor has provided me proof of an alliance between the Kraig tribes. His sentinels claim their forces will soon rival their own, though they still seem a bit too disorganized to be a real threat.”

Terra grabbed the envelope and read over the report intently. Her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Can you trust this? It could be a trick. Hounds never band together. Not since -”

“The Great War. I thought the same thing. But Lucian is growing restless at these meetings. He’s constantly making more and more demands to keep the peace, and it seems like something’s stirring behind him. I’m also beginning to question the empire’s ability and reason to play along with him, given the accusations being thrown around.”

“What of the new emperor? Isn’t he supposed to mediate at these summits?” asked Myra, a little concerned.

“I met Laurentius when I was about your age, and I learned to trust him as much as my father did. Back then, things were simpler, and I had hoped to give you the same opportunity. But his newfound son, this Yann. He seems more preoccupied with antagonizing Lucian than he is with keeping any balance or peace. I don’t trust him at all. We should all tread carefully with him…”

“If he doesn’t care for peace, can’t you speak for us? Can’t you talk to Kraig’s leader yourself?”

“It’s not that simple, my little ember. The Dominion holds the power here, and Kraig has never cared for anything but war. If they aren’t fighting us, they’re too busy fighting each other – or at least, they should be. The only reason they even show to these summits is that the Dominion forces their hand. They hold one of their sacred sites hostage in return for some cooperation. Even if it weren’t the case, Lucian barely acknowledges my presence as it is. He only speaks when The Emperor speaks, and usually in disagreement.”

Myra let out a defeated sigh. Despite the many years of preparation, she had grown no love for politics. She preferred action whenever possible and had always chosen the torture of her physical training over debate exercises with her mother. However, things were sensitive right now. Tensions between the three kingdoms had been rising for some time, making diplomacy a required skill for her ascension. The thought that the slightest mistake could be ever so cataclysmic was beyond unsettling to her. The weight of her choices was finally catching up. She had always envied her father’s charisma. If only she had inherited that instead.

“For now, I suppose we should continue our efforts securing our borders. Hope for the best and prepare for the worst, right my little ember?” he asked, turning towards her, forcing another cheerful tone.

Myra took the report from her mother’s hands but couldn’t bear to read it all. Just the touch of the dry parchment was enough to make her nauseous. Enough to remind her of the responsibility that soon awaited her. She would need more than intense physical training and lectures to feel even remotely ready now. Especially since she had to swallow her own words from earlier. The cruel irony of the moment did not escape her.

Is this really all happening? Things were all but perfect a few weeks ago…

Lost in thought, Myra didn’t realize how long she had stood there, or how hard she was gripping the report.

“My love, would you mind giving us a moment?”

“O-of course.” Terra replied with a slight bow, “I’ll… be waiting in the courtyard if I’m needed.”

She tried looking back at Myra once more before leaving, but her focus was still on the crumpled report. Once alone, Blair removed it from her hands, breaking the trance, bringing her back in. Another genuine smile was now beaming from his face.

“Get changed and meet me outside.” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s been too long since we’ve taken a walk together.”