In the royal courtyard at dawn, the crisp wind carried the scent of morning dew and steel. The sun filtered through the canopy above, casting shadows upon the polished stone training ground where Serenil stood, clad in a sleeveless tunic, his silver hair catching the light like threads of moonlight. Before him, his three beastkin maids—Aeva, the fox; Nysha, the cat; and Rennie, the rabbit—stood in formation, each gripping their Soul Gear for the first time.
Aeva's Soul Gear, Emerald Tempest, shimmered with wind-infused magic, a pair of twin daggers with jade edges.
Nysha held Silent Mirage, a flexible violet-hued sword that seemed to flicker out of sight when swung.
Rennie's weapon, Crimson Bloom, was a polearm that radiated fire and destruction, yet felt oddly graceful in her hands.
"Again," Serenil commanded calmly, observing their stances.
Each girl launched into motion. Aeva moved with dancing steps, her daggers slicing the air in arcs of green light. Nysha disappeared in bursts of shadow, reappearing with her blade aimed at invisible foes. Rennie twirled her polearm with both fury and finesse, her reddish-orange hair a blur of motion.
On the sidelines, seated under parasols, were the four future wives of Serenil:
Astarotte Sylvarien, the succubus princess, sat with arms crossed and a bored look, though her eyes betrayed interest.
Piglette Mariglen, the quiet orc princess, watched with a serene smile, her silver eyes curious.
Liselotte D'Armoire, the bubbly mermaid princess, bounced in her seat, clapping excitedly at every flourish of movement.
Roanna Briarwyn, the vampire princess, rested her cheek on her hand, her heterochromia gaze deeply focused and a small amused smirk on her lips.
Each of the princesses had brought their own attendants: refined demi-human retainers who kept silent as they observed the training.
Serenil walked among his maids, correcting posture, adjusting weapon grip, and giving brief but precise instructions. Despite his stoic face, his voice held rare hints of patience and warmth. The maids pushed themselves hard, striving to impress and not fail the boy who had freed and claimed them.
From the sidelines, Roanna whispered to Liselotte, "He's quite the teacher… or maybe quite the tyrant."
Liselotte giggled. "He's kind! Look, he's even helping the bunny girl fix her stance!"
Astarotte huffed. "Tch. He's too soft. If they can't fight, they should be discarded."
Piglette glanced at her gently. "Even discarded flowers can still bloom in a different season."