The sound of wood striking wood cracked sharply across the training hall.
Susan's breath hitched as she parried the strike, but her focus wavered—just a little. A feint. She realized too late. The wooden blade smacked against her ribs with a solid thunk. She stumbled backward, clutching her side.
"Point," her sparring partner announced calmly, lowering her sword.
The girl standing opposite Susan was about her age, dressed in the same light-blue training uniform. Her long, honey-brown hair was tied neatly into a braid, and her expression—while calm—carried a sharp edge. Her name was Celia Rynhart, daughter of a lesser noble house under Vanheart. Unlike Susan, Celia never seemed distracted.
Susan exhaled, brushing a strand of golden hair from her brown eyes. She forced a smile. "Guess that makes it three in a row."
Celia tilted her head, frowning. "Three? It's been five."
Susan groaned. "You don't have to rub it in."
"You're out of it today." Celia's tone softened. "What's going on, Susan?"
Before Susan could answer, the voice of their instructor cut through the air.
"Enough for now."
The girls turned to see their trainer approaching. A tall woman in her early thirties, she had sharp eyes and long brown hair tied into a bun. Her bearing was stern yet calm, her every step deliberate. Like the girls, she wore the same blue training garb, though hers was edged with darker trim—marking her as their instructor.
Master Marial.
"You both lack focus," Marial said evenly, though her gaze lingered longer on Susan. "Celia, well done. Susan… you need to center yourself."
Susan straightened her back, nodding quickly. "Yes, Master."
Marial studied her for a moment longer, then added in a quieter voice, "Are you feeling alright?"
Susan hesitated. Her fingers clenched on the hilt of her wooden sword. "I'm fine. But… I'd like to talk with you. Privately."
Marial raised a brow but nodded. "After lunch. Come to my office."
With that, she dismissed the group. Celia gave Susan a curious look but said nothing until the two of them were walking out together.
They sat by the tall windows of the hall, where sunlight streamed across the polished wooden floor. Celia leaned back against the wall, stretching her legs out.
"Seriously, what's wrong with you? You usually hate losing."
Susan rolled her eyes. "Thanks for reminding me."
"Come on. You've been sighing every five minutes like a grieving widow." Celia smirked. "Don't tell me you're pining for some boy."
Susan smacked her arm lightly. "Shut up. It's not that."
"Then what?"
Susan leaned her forehead against the glass, her voice softer. "I just… have a bad feeling."
Celia frowned but didn't press further. Instead, she gave Susan a crooked grin. "Well, don't get killed by bad feelings, alright? I don't like winning against a distracted opponent. It makes me look like I'm bullying you."
Susan huffed a laugh despite herself. "You are bullying me."
"Good. As long as you noticed."
Celia stretched her arms overhead, then glanced sideways. "By the way, are you going home for the New Year?"
Susan blinked. "New Year…? I almost forgot."
"Only a month remains," Celia said, her tone more casual now. "So?"
Susan hesitated. Her gaze drifted back to the window, where the afternoon sun slanted low. "…I don't know yet."
Celia arched her brow. "That doesn't sound like you. Usually you'd be so excited to celebrate it."
Susan tried to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "This year feels… different."
The two of them bantered for a while longer, but the heaviness in Susan's chest didn't fade.
After lunch, Susan stood outside the office door, her hand hovering for a moment before she knocked.
"Enter," Marial's firm voice called from inside.
The room was lined with shelves of old training manuals, scrolls, and a single desk at the far end. Marial sat behind it, quill in hand, though she set it aside as Susan entered.
Susan bowed slightly. "Thank you for seeing me, Master."
"Of course. Now—what's bothering you?"
Susan hesitated, then spoke, her voice trembling slightly despite her effort to keep it steady. "It's been over three weeks since I was sent here. At first, I thought it was only for training, but… then Jason left for the academy. And then Lucian was sent away too."
Her fists clenched at her sides. "Lucian is still just a kid. Father and Mother wouldn't send him off unless… unless something's wrong. I know them. This isn't just about training. They're hiding something."
Marial sat in silence, her gaze steady.
Susan pressed on, her voice rising. "And I think you know what it is. Don't you, Master?"
Marial let out a long breath, leaning back in her chair. For a moment, she looked older, wearier. "I knew this day would come. I didn't expect it so soon."
Susan's heart skipped. "So I was right."
Marial nodded slowly. "Do you remember the intrusion, on your brother Jason's birthday?"
Susan's chest tightened. "Yes. How could I forget?"
"The intruder who was captured… revealed something under interrogation." Marial's tone grew heavy. "Your family is being targeted."
Susan's eyes widened. "What?"
"Yes. Whoever is behind this—they are patient, and dangerous. That is why your parents decided to send you all away. Jason to the academy. You here. Lucian to a mage. To place you under protection until they can resolve this."
Susan's breath came fast, her nails digging into her palms. "Then—then I need to go back. I can't just sit here while they're in danger. I can help them!"
Marial's eyes sharpened. "That is foolishness. What can you do? This is not simply about fighting. It is about politics, influence, and manipulation. The enemy will not attack openly. They will send assassins. Spread rumors. Apply pressure through the council. They will not fight fair. And if you return, you will only give them another weakness to exploit."
Susan flinched, but her anger still burned. "Then what am I supposed to do? Just train while they—"
"—do everything they can to protect you." Marial's voice was firm, cutting through her words. "Your role is to survive. To grow stronger. To be ready, should the time come when you can fight beside them."
Silence fell. Susan's eyes stung, but she refused to let tears fall. Slowly, her fists loosened.
"I… I hate this," she whispered.
Marial's expression softened. "I know."
Susan turned her gaze to the window, where sunlight filtered in. Her heart still ached, but beneath it, a new resolve began to take root. If she couldn't return now—then she would train. Harder than ever before. So that when the time came, she would no longer be powerless.