The next morning came wrapped in soft sunlight and the lingering scent of dew. The courtyard was still quiet when Iris stood waiting, her wooden longsword resting against her shoulder. A faint breeze rustled the leaves, carrying with it the distant murmur of soldiers changing shifts near the outer walls. The Verdant Estate always seemed alive — even in its silences.
"So yesterday," Iris began, her tone steady and clear, "I taught you the Rooted Stance. Today, we'll move to the Step of Gale — a movement technique that favors speed, evasion, and unpredictability. It's not meant for defense alone, but for turning an enemy's expectations against them."
Sophia blinked. "Another technique already?" she asked, brushing stray hair from her face. "I thought I still had to practice the first one."
"The goal isn't just repetition," Iris replied, stepping lightly into the sand of the training yard. "It's preparation. Every stance, every motion is part of a greater flow. The Rooted Stance grounds you — it's stability. But Step of Gale is freedom. Together, they form a balance: immovable defense and effortless escape."
Sophia tilted her head slightly. "So we're learning opposites."
"In a way," Iris said with a faint smile. "The sword isn't only about striking or blocking. It's about how you move between both."
She motioned for Sophia to ready herself. The young girl gripped her wooden sword tightly and fell into the position Iris had drilled into her yesterday — steady feet, spine straight, tip forward. The stance still felt heavy to her, as though the earth itself held her in place. She waited for Iris's next command.
"Now, thrust."
Sophia drove the sword forward with all her strength. The air parted with a whoosh— but Iris was no longer there.
In the space of a blink, she had stepped aside, her own sword resting easily by her leg. "That," she said softly, "was the Lowest Form of the Step of Gale. A simple side step. Wind doesn't fight the blade; it simply isn't there when steel arrives."
She looked down at Sophia. "Remember that, young miss. When you move, don't resist the attack — become the wind that slips around it."
Sophia nodded, fascinated. The words struck something within her — an image of flowing air, of being untouchable yet gentle. "Like vanishing," she murmured.
"Exactly." Iris handed her another wooden sword. "Try again. Thrust, then follow immediately with a horizontal and overhead strike."
Sophia inhaled, centering herself. She could feel her heartbeat syncing with the quiet rhythm of the wind around them.
Stab! Slash! Slash!
Her sword darted forward, each motion faster than the last. But Iris had already slipped aside, the wooden blades clacking as she parried the second strike and redirected the third.
Clack!
The sound echoed in the empty yard, followed by a low thud as Sophia's foot slipped slightly in the sand. She nearly lost her grip as the rebound from the blocked strike jolted through her arm.
Thud!
Sophia landed on one knee, breathing heavily. The shock traveled up her wrist, but her eyes burned with focus rather than defeat.
"Nicely done, young miss!" Iris said, her voice carrying warmth instead of reprimand. "You were swift — faster than yesterday. Your form is improving."
Sophia smiled faintly, rubbing her wrist. "But not good enough."
"It's not about good or bad," Iris said. "Your mind moves faster than your body. Once your body learns to follow, your speed will double. For now — you learn. For the next month, we'll master both techniques. The Rooted Stance for grounding, and the Step of Gale for freedom."
Sophia got up, dusting sand off her knees. "Then let's start again."
Her tone carried a quiet determination that made Iris's lips curve into a rare smile. The girl was small, her arms still thin and trembling with strain, but her eyes — those eyes held a depth and calm that often caught Iris off guard. She had seen noble children train before, but none carried this strange mix of discipline and serenity, as if each motion was a way of reclaiming something she'd once lost.
For Sophia, every lesson was liberation. The repetition, the aches, the bruises — all of it felt like proof that this new life was hers.
Swordsmanship, magic, stamina drills — they weren't obligations but freedoms, steps away from the invisible chains of her past life. Even the way the morning air brushed her face as she ran laps across the training field felt like a promise: that she could breathe without fear now.
That evening, after her lessons ended, the halls of the Verdant Mansion glowed under the soft amber of magical lamps. The faint scent of parchment and candle wax wafted through the air as Sophia crept toward the study room.
Creak—
"Daddy?" she whispered, peeking inside.
Damien looked up from his desk. Scrolls and reports were scattered across the polished wood, a half-drained cup of tea sitting by his hand. His expression softened immediately. "Come in, sweetie."
Sophia entered, her small footsteps echoing faintly against the marble floor. "Can I ask you something?"
"What's this sudden visit for?" Damien asked, leaning back in his chair. "You don't usually come here before your magic lessons."
Sophia hesitated, then gathered her courage. "Umm… can I go out and explore the estate? Just for a while?"
Damien raised an eyebrow, amused. "Explore, hmm? Where does my princess want to go?"
"The forest," Sophia said, eyes bright. "I want to see the mine. And the waterfall the book mentioned!"
For a moment, Damien simply looked at her — this little girl whose curiosity never seemed to end. Part of him wanted to refuse. The forest was safe under guard, yes. Yet when he saw her excitement, the words of refusal caught in his throat.
"…Alright," he said finally. "You may go. But only if Iris goes with you. And you'll do exactly as she says."
Sophia's entire face lit up. "Really?!"
Before Damien could answer, she had already darted across the room, nearly knocking over a chair as she ran. "Thank you, Daddy!"
He chuckled softly as the door clicked shut behind her. "That speed…" he murmured, shaking his head with a sigh that carried both pride and worry. "Just like her mother."
The next morning arrived bright and crisp. The scent of blooming grass filled the training yard as Sophia, freshly bathed and dressed in a soft yellow dress, ran toward Iris.
"Young miss, did you really get permission?" Iris asked, her brow arched in disbelief. She wore her usual practical tunic and sword belt, but even she couldn't help but smile at Sophia's cheerful expression.
"I did! Father said yes!" Sophia declared, clutching her sunhat as the breeze tugged at it.
It was around eleven, the sunlight already glinting off the mansion's marble tiles. Iris, though surprised, simply nodded. She had heard whispers about Sophia pestering the Duke to let her go, but she hadn't expected the man to relent so soon. Still, she knew better than to question his decision aloud.
"Then let's make sure you don't trip running out like that," Iris said, following as Sophia hurried toward the gates.
Minutes later, the two of them sat inside one of the Verdant household's carriages. The wheels rolled smoothly over cobblestone before giving way to the earthy forest road. Through the open window, Sophia leaned out slightly, feeling the cool rush of air whip against her face.
The forest road was wide but quiet. Rows of guards stood stationed along the route — armored figures whose polished breastplates reflected the daylight. There were no merchants, no villagers, no stalls selling bread or fruit. Only silence, discipline, and the sound of hooves striking soil.
Sophia's voice broke the stillness. "Iris, what do you think of the capital? Are you excited to go?"
Iris blinked. "The capital?"
Sophia nodded. "Since I'll be attending the Stelle Academy, you'll be coming to Dawnspire with me."
"Ah." Iris smiled faintly, settling her sword beside her. "They say it's beautiful. But filled with nobles — too many for my liking. I just hope we don't meet some spoiled brat who thinks the world belongs to him."
Sophia giggled. "If that happens, I wonder what you'll do."
"What can I do?" Iris shrugged. "I'll follow your command, young miss. If you tell me to ignore them, I'll ignore them. If you tell me to scare them off, I'll do that too."
Sophia looked out the window again, eyes gleaming. "Then I'll remember that."
The wind tousled her hair, carrying the faint scent of pine and mountain soil. Ahead, the forest grew denser, and in the distance, the faint clang of metal echoed — the Verdant Iron Mine.
Half an hour later, the carriage halted before a sprawling camp. Canvas tents stood in neat rows, soldiers moving about with quiet precision. At the far end, the dark mouth of the mine yawned against the mountain — a massive, stone-framed entrance that breathed cool air into the warm day.
"Wow," Sophia whispered as she stepped down, her boots touching the packed dirt. "It's huge…"
"Good morning, young lady of Verdant," a voice called. A middle-aged man in a polished breastplate approached, bowing slightly. "I am Alistair, the one in-charge of the mining camp."
Sophia blinked at him, uncertain how to respond. She simply gave a small hum of acknowledgment. "Hmm."
Iris stepped forward smoothly, her tone formal. "We'll be exploring the area. Continue your duties as usual. You need not attend to us unless instructed."
Alistair bowed deeper. Around him, the workers and soldiers who had paused to stare quickly turned back to their tasks, though not without curious glances. To them, the little girl before them seemed almost regal — quiet, distant, the image of nobility they rarely saw up close.
But as Sophia watched them — their sweat-soaked backs, their calloused hands, the rhythmic clang of pickaxes against rock — something stirred within her. A memory. Not of this life, but of the one before it. Of servants being scolded for pausing too long. Of harsh words, cruel orders, fear.
Her small hand tightened around her dress hem.
"Keep up the good work," she said suddenly, her voice bright and clear.
The camp stilled again. Heads turned. For a moment, the workers only stared — unsure if they had heard right. Then, as her words sank in, something warm flickered through their tired faces. They straightened, smiling faintly.
Iris looked at her, surprised but silent.
Sophia turned to Alistair. "Make sure everyone receives their wages on time. No delays."
"Yes, young miss!" Alistair said, bowing deeply. The firmness in her tone was beyond her years — not demanding, but resolute.
As they walked away from the camp, Iris finally spoke. "You didn't have to do that."
"I know," Sophia replied softly. "But I wanted to."
Her eyes drifted ahead, where the forest grew darker and the air cooler. "People like them… they deserve kindness too."
They walked deeper into the woods, the path narrowing as trees rose taller around them. The canopy above was thick, letting through beams of light that flickered like slow-moving fireflies. The hum of the camp faded behind them until all that remained was birdsong and the whisper of leaves.
After several minutes, the trees opened into a clearing — and there it was.
A lake.
Hidden, quiet, perfect.
A secluded lake nestled deep within a forest — the kind of place untouched by time. The trees surrounding it are tall and thick, their canopies weaving together like emerald lace, allowing only shards of sunlight to pierce through and dance across the water's surface. Mist lingers in the air, soft and cool, carrying the scent of moss, pine, and wet earth.
At one end of the lake, a waterfall cascades down a rocky cliff, its white froth glittering in the filtered light. The sound is both powerful and soothing — a constant rhythm that echoes through the forest like a heartbeat. The water tumbles over moss-covered stones, feeding the lake with crystal clarity that reflects the sky above like polished glass.
Around the shoreline, ferns and wildflowers grow in abundance — deep greens, soft blues, and pale purples adding gentle color to the scene. Occasionally, a ripple disturbs the lake's mirror surface — a fish rising to the surface, or the brush of a dragonfly's wings.
That was what Sophia thought when she arrived at the place. It had been worth it for her to travel all the way here.
"It's beautiful." Sophia's words drowned by the gushing of the waterfall. To her it felt like a hidden, sacred almost — a secret sanctuary where the forest breathed quietly, and the world beyond seemed to vanish.
"It is." Iris was also impressed by the sight in front of her. A place despite being in a forest and a bit away from the camp was still undisturbed.
Sophia stopped walking. The sound of rushing water filled her ears, steady and calm — the kind of sound that silences thought.
Sophia stepped closer to the water's edge. The reflection that looked back at her was small, golden-haired, and bright-eyed — yet in that reflection, she felt something older, something serene. The wind brushed her cheek, gentle as a caress, carrying with it the scent of moss and rain.
For a long while, neither of them spoke.
The forest breathed.
And the lake — the lake simply shimmered, as if keeping the world's quiet secrets beneath its surface.