Training Arc – Part 1

  The three of them sat around a heavy oak table in the mansion’s sunlit dining hall, plates empty save for crumbs. Shuyi adjusted her glasses, her voice taking on the crisp tone of a lecturer.

  “The basics, then. This world, Veyloria, runs on a calendar similar to Earth’s. Three hundred and sixty-five days a year. But there’s only one major holiday.”

  Lily leaned in, curious. “Only one?”

  “The Gods’ Festival. It’s celebrated at midsummer—a day of prayers, feasts, and, in cities like this, grand tournaments.” Shuyi’s gaze turned pointed. “We have three months until then. If we step into that arena looking the same as we do now…” She paused, letting the implication hang. “It would bring shame to Lady Kristina’s honor. We need proper instruction. Skilled instruction.”

  Almost in unison, Lily and Shuyi turned to look at Fenra.

  The wolf-girl had been silently tearing into a slice of honey cake. She didn’t look up, but her ears twitched. Slowly, she placed the cake down, stood, and brushed crumbs from her tunic.

  “In that case,” Fenra said, her golden eyes sharp. “You obey. Completely. First lesson: we need muscle, not fat.”

  Her hand shot out in a blur—a sharp, open-palmed slap to the back of Lily’s wrist.

  Thwack.

  The half-eaten cake tumbled from Lily’s grasp and splattered on the stone floor.

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  “From now on,” Fenra stated, her voice leaving no room for argument, “you eat what I permit. When I permit. Now. Outside.”

  The Kardelis training ground was a wide, dusty yard edged with weapon racks and straw dummies, usually occupied by guards honing their skills. Today, it belonged to three girls.

  “Stamina first,” Fenra barked, already jogging in place. “Especially you two. Your bodies will learn to burn fuel like a forge. We build light, enhanced muscle—speed and endurance, not bulk. We use light training methods.”

  She smirked, showing a hint of fang. “Extremely light methods. Now, run.”

  The first lap was manageable. The second, a burn. By the fifth, Lily’s lungs were fire, and Shuyi’s measured breathing had dissolved into ragged gasps. The world narrowed to the crunch of gravel underfoot and Fenra’s relentless pace ahead of them.

  Fenra circled back, barely winded, to find two collapsed bodies in the dust.

  “Not even five kilometers,” she said, disapproval dripping from every word. She uncorked two vials of murky green liquid—stamina potions—and pressed them to their lips. “Drink. All of it.”

  The potion was bitter, but a wave of forced vitality pushed back the crushing fatigue, making Lily’s heart thunder against her ribs.

  Fenra crouched between them as they coughed. “Lily. Twin blades that are neither long nor short, heavy nor light… their power doesn’t come from strength. It comes from swiftness. From striking where the opponent isn’t, again and again.” Her gaze shifted. “Shuyi. Same for you. An archer out of position is a dead archer. Your mind is sharp. Your body must catch up.”

  The day dissolved into a cycle of agonized motion: sprint intervals, agility drills weaving through posts, bodyweight exercises until their muscles trembled and failed. Fenra was a merciless metronome, correcting form, demanding five more repetitions when none seemed possible.

  Hours later, they were allowed to eat—simple, hearty roasted meat and boiled grains, devoured in silence under the afternoon sun. Then, the training began anew.

  When dusk finally bled into evening, Lily and Shuyi didn’t walk back to the mansion. They crawled. Every muscle screamed in protest. They dragged themselves across the threshold of their shared room, lacking the strength to even reach their beds, and collapsed onto the cool floor in a heap of aching limbs and shallow breaths.

  The first day was over.