From Flowers to Swords Pt. III

Parts: From Flowers to Swords, From Flowers to Swords Pt. II, From Flowers to Swords Pt. III
== Chapter XVII - Second Chances ==
Liadrin's gaze was stern and cold, falling heavily across Soraya who stood to attention before her. Her pose wasn't quite perfect; her back still causing her slight discomfort as she tried to remain still. A tense silence hung between the Master and her Matriarch, only filled by what Soraya found to be the rather frustrating tap tap tap of a quill against the desk. She swallowed deeply and parted her dry lips to speak. As if taking this as a queue, Liadrin immediately cut her off.
"Regrettable... what happened to young Sunstrike. Do you not think?" Again Soraya parted her lips to speak, again finding herself interrupted. "A shame you were too busy doing whatever it is you do out there to help him. Where have you been these past weeks, Master? We've had no word from you and I must say it has become a slight... inconvenience."
Soraya bowed her head apologetically. "Sometimes it can take a week or more to escort refugees from Falcon Watch to the safer lands, M'lady. Lord Sunstrider's Promised Land is a dangerous place, regrettably," her voice wavered a little and she made sure to clear her throat before she continued.” I will try harder to make sure I send word to our liaison at Falcon Watch."
Seemingly ignoring this comment, Liadrin made a dismissive gesture towards the Adepts that stood guard in her doorway. Taking this as her queue to leave Soraya bowed, turning on her heels, only to come face to face with tall male. He was handsome and broad, his blonde hair short and cropped in a militaristic fashion befitting of a soldier. She gasped, louder than she would have liked and took a small step backwards in surprise. Neither the male or Liadrin seemed much amused by her lack of composure, the former stepping forward and taking place beside the young Master. She too turned back around, eyeing Liadrin inquisitively who in turn met her gaze with a nonchalant stare.
"Meet Yann Brightmourn, your new apprentice," her gaze flickered across the young male, almost apologetically. "Brightmourn, this is Master Dwin'urdrenn. She promises me she'll try her best not to let you die like her last."
Soraya cringed noticeably. Her male counterpart hardly moved, simply dipping his head in a polite nod towards her. "I'm not sure if I'm quite ready to take anoth- !"
"I don't care if you're 'ready', little girl. You're here to do as I say and if I tell you to take him, you take him, correct?" Liadrin's words were stern and painful, causing Soraya to simply nod the affirmative. "Good. Now you'd best get to it. Out of my office, the both of you. And try not to fail this one, Dwin'urdrenn"Soraya curled her delicate fists into balls as she left, suppressing a tinge of rage. She certainly would not fail her new student as she had Deldorian. That she was sure of. What she was absolutely certain of, however, was that she wouldn't allow herself to bond with this Yann. If something did go wrong, she never wanted to feel that loss again.
== Chapter XVIII - The Unorthodox Approach ==
Soraya was pleased with Yann. More pleased than she was willing to let on. Understandably he was already a skilled fighter; far more skilled than Deldorian was when she'd been teaching him. A least Yann didn't manage to hit himself during swordplay. No, Yann was already reasonably trained, already skilled and he'd already chosen his own quirks. One of which was his great, clumsy warblade; or so Soraya saw it. She also knew that once a Knight picks their weapon, there's very little to do about changing it. Instead she'd teach him to use it to his advantage, to be able to hit a target as agile as herself. She'd try for weeks if she had to but there would certainly be no going easy. She didn't pamper Deldorian through his training and she certainly wouldn't mother Yann. It was time to teach him the distinct difference between an Adept and a Master. She twirled her blade casually around her wrist, holding it in a tight grip behind her, left hand taunting her opponent. She smirked."When you're ready."She watched as Yann leant on his warblade, studying her carefully. He took in the way she spun her blade so swiftly, noticed the way she held it - loosely, almost. She grinned slightly, almost as if hearing this thoughts clock over. He wanted to make her drop it and for that she knew he would need cunning. He picked up the blade slightly, angling it him behind him as he began to charge. Approaching his Master he swung the blade up hard, lashing out a strike towards her. She let him have his show, watched his momentum build; soon becoming that unstoppable wrecking ball of armour that heavy weaponry allowed. A smirk crack over her lips again as the blade neared.He was trying too hard, far too hard. If he was using a smaller blade, if he were wearing lighter armour the perhaps, yes, the bravado would have paid off. But as he was, Soraya could see the movements strained him. He was full of openings as he made his moves. It was time to teach Yann a hard lesson.
Soraya swung her own blade forward, drawing his attention to her attack. She watched as his eyes flicked to her blade, muscles reacting to stop the offensive. But it was the wrong instinct. Her left hand erupted as he flew towards her, a Holy Shock aimed straight for his open torso. She knew it was hardly fair to use advanced magic on him, but since when were true enemies fair?She watched with a smug smile as he was caught in the worst possible place, the room spiralling around so fast he couldn't tell where the floor was. He landed crumpled on the floor with a winded groan, humiliated. He clambered to his feet, coughing and turning to his Master giving a curt bow before he laid down his weapon.She gave a quick bow back, followed by a slight smile. Being completely callous lost respect and respect was vital. She sheathed her sword against her back and gently strode towards him."Your sword isn't the only weapon you have," she began, her tone authoritative yet calm. "Your whole body is a tool to be used. If anything, your blade is merely an extension of your arm. Swordplay is helpful and it'll be sure to win you a fight if you're good but don't forget to use other things!” She pondered her next words carefully, unsure how her fresh student would take to her somewhat blasé approach to combat. “A quick backhand to the face! A kick to the back of the knee! Fast, unexpected moves that throw people off guard..." Soraya grimaced, remembering her own failings against such moves. Yann didn't look impressed, yet kept his mouth closed. "I know it's unorthodox..." she sighed. “But that's why it works! It's unexpected!"She tried another kind smile, as if to win him around to her ideas. She wasn't sure if she should mould him to her ways, or to let him work how he liked. She doubted that no amount of training could make him as flexible as her, so perhaps it was best not to force it. She'd let him decide another day. She tilted her head towards him, with a tiny wink."Best practice your healing, eh?"
== Chapter XIX - Powerplay ==
Yann stepped into the sparring ring, testing his shield arm one last time, it was big, but it could move. Soraya stood opposite, that nonchalant, almost perpetually bored expression marking her features. "You won't need those today." She stated plainly gesturing at his sword and shield. He discarded them, placed his hands at his sides and feet set apart and he faced her. There was no sword on her back, only a small device strapped to her waist, which she saw him eye carefully. “And that is…?” She pulled it from its holster and held it loosely in her palm, arm outstretched to show her student. “A gun.” “A gun?” he raised a slender brow. “Why do you have a gun? We’re not so brash as to use uncivilised weaponry here…” She shook her head in agreement with his words, and slowly began to encircle him at a gently pace. Silence hung in the air, broken rhythmically with the tap of her boots on the marble floor. “You know what a Divine Shield is, right? We went over it last week…” she finally spoke into the tense air. No sooner had he replied with the affirmative did she stretch out her arm and shoot. She hoped - prayed even - to some strange, invisible deity that he'd practiced what she'd told him. She didn't much feel like explaining she'd shot her student through the head. It was a dangerous game teaching Yann in such a risky manner. Her arm remained outstretched for what seemed an eternity as she watched his reaction. Would he be quick enough? Would his will-power win over in such unpredictable circumstances? Her brain ran overtime as her wide eyes watched. He was about half a second away from death. His hands moved and his eyes squeezed shut. It clearly took him great effort to perform the spell so quickly but, thank the Sun, he succeeded. The pure white shield engulfed him. The bullet struck it and disintegrated leaving a tiny ripple on the inpenetrable shield. He turned to glare at his master. Training was training, but that was aimed to kill! With a look of disdain and anger, the shield dropped. Soraya lightly chuckled to herself, more through relief than anything; although his face was quite a picture. She could tell Yann wasn't impressed and that she'd probably get an earful, but it was worth it. She'd proven to him he could perform under pressure; that if it came down to it, Yann and herself would be able to fight side by side in perfect confidence of each other. She had confidence in him at least - she doubted he saw it that way. Carefully she paced around him again, a soft smile creasing her lips. "Impressive!" she clapped him, gun still in hand. "I'm glad you pulled that off." She smiled wryly at him, her amusement wasn't quite over. "But... no one I know can pull of two in quick succession!" Her arm stretched again, she cocked the gun, pulled the trigger. His reaction was altogether unexpected. Instead of falling back, ducking or otherwise cowering at his oncoming doom, he rushed at her, plated gauntlet swinging for her face. Click! Empty! He realised his stupidity too late; no simple gun could shoot twice without reloading! Trying to stop his momentum he stumbled to the floor at her feet; that heavy hand coming to blow against her leg as he near fell into her. “Forgive me, Master…” he panted. Soraya tossed the weapon aside and held out a hand to her apprentice. She was proud of him for trying, although she knew he was doomed to failure. He was showing the kind of unwavering resolve that was so prized amongst the Order. She wasn't so sure if he understood that, however. "You've done well today." That was all the complimenting he would get. This is how Yann would learn and how she expected to teach him. He was here to learn, not make friends. 
== Chapter XX - Rose ==
Slender hands wrapped neatly in white bandage slowly found themselves snaked around the Master Knight’s shoulders and neck. Delicate, sharp daggers protruded from both, pressuring lightly against her tender skin. Soraya did not as much as flinch, knowing all too well a sudden move could spell her untimely death. She gauged her situation carefully. Judging by the height of the body pressed to her back, it was a female – slender and light; easily overthrown. The unknown assailant was also expert at her craft. A clumsier attacker would have been heard approaching, and it was this virtue Soraya now relied on.“You’re a professional, am I right?” she spoke calmly into the dark shadows of Murder Row, but received no answer. “And if that’s the case, you know you won’t get away with the murder of a Master of the Order.”“Quite right,” the voice was petite and clearly muffled by some kind of mask. “But I know you well enough to know simply calling after you wouldn’t have worked. You don’t pay attention to ‘nobodies’.” The arms unwound and pushed Soraya forward slightly, allowing her to turn. Soraya’s eyes narrowed dangerously on her attacker. Her excuse was below par, yet intriguing. Somehow this girl knew of her, almost on a personal level, but Soraya knew nothing of her. She reached a hand up over her shoulder and caressed the hilt of her blade as if to serve a reminder that a considerable threat could be unleashed. Taking note the elf in white sheathed her own daggers by her side and pulled down her mask. The face below was surprisingly young, but the eyes rung of untold experience, giving the impression that the girl was in her profession through unfortunate circumstance, rather than volition. Soraya relaxed considerably in return but closed the gap between the two, standing as formidably as she could. “You know I’m well within my rights to restrain you? Failure to obey the laws will result in your termination.”The young girl scoffed, hiding a large grin behind her hand. “You sound just like an Arcane Guardian… are you sure they didn’t program you, too?”Soraya opened her lips to react, but no words came. The unknown female was more right in the matter than the Knight would have liked to admit and she found herself vaguely pained at the jab. If only this girl knew what she was doing to save her people from the vile police state; how hard she was trying to maintain both her work as a Scryer and this almost painful façade as the perfect Knight. “Just don’t make Yann turn out that way.” The white-clad girl spoke again, even more surprisingly.“You know Brightmourn?”“I know Yann, yes. And I also know you’re pushing him too hard!”Now it was Soraya’s turn to scoff. What did this brat know of how the Order worked? No one would tell her how to tutor her students, let alone some wretched street-rat who had so much as dared to assail her so boldly. But it was that boldness that endeared Soraya to the girl. She was, if nothing else, interesting. She would humour her. “I am, now? And who might you be to tell me such a thing?”A smug smile slipped across the pale features of the petite girl. “I’m his fiancée. And you can call me Rose.”
== Chapter XXI - End ==
A few months passed in what seemed like a blissful dream to Soraya. There hadn't been any of the hassle training Brightmourn as there had been with Sunstrike, and the turbulant war that raged in Outland seemed but a distant memory. Rose, or Polerra as she was actually named, had become a less annoying facett to Soraya's life, almost acting as a moral compass where matters of her husband-to-be where concerned. The two had become close, suprisingly so, and Soraya often found she was a welcome guest around their house during the rare occasions both of the Knights were off duty. Furthermore, Polerra had fallen pregnant and her wedding was closing ever nearer.
The day eventually came, Yann dressed elegantly in his dress-armour, Polerra by his side in a humble white dress. Soraya envied him, not only for the happiness in his life, but also because he were allowed to wear his uniform. As a bridesmaid, she found herself packed into a dress she would much rather be without, an almost constant blush of embarrassment riddled on her cheeks. 
It wasn't long after the wedding that a heavily pergnant Polerra gave birth to twins. A boy and a girl, Yann loved them dearly. Much to Soraya's displeasure, he chose to leave behind the life of a field combatant, settling for the more mundane life of an archivist. His children came first now, and it was unlikely he would die working as a glorified librarian, lest he get lost amongst the neverending labyrinth of files. Certain that his Knighthood was coming to an end, Soraya went on with her plans to petition for his Masterhood. Her request was granted, and Master Yann Brightmourn took his place amongst ranks. 
The evening was quiet, the soft trickle of the fountain water all that was keeping Soraya company as she relaxed. It was nice to be off duty, nice to be free of the responsibility of training apprentices and even nicer to be away from the ongoing war. She knew, soon enough, she would have to go back to it all. But for now, she was content to simply enjoy the time she had. She opened her eyes slowly, feeling someone sit beside her. 
"Would you like to hold him?" Yann smiled over to his former Master, holding his son, Aerron in his arms.
"I don't think I should, I'm not the most gentle of people..." She cleared her throat, face flushing slightly red. 
"Look, just hold out your arms, will you?" he chuckled, passing Aerron across to a decidedly nervous Soraya who cradled him awkwardly against her chest. The youngling  seemed happy enough in her grip, toying playfully with the fabric of her shirt, taking it into his gummy mouth on occasion. Yann took a deep breath. "We want you to be the godmother."
Soraya blinked a few times, opened her mouth to speak, then blinked again. She would agree, of course, but the news was so unusual, so shocking, so kind. She was truely content in life, Deldorian seeming like a distant past, far outdone by the sucess of Yann and his family. The Order, the war, the entire future could be put on hold. For now, she just wanted to enjoy the moment.
Category:Story