Leona had always believed she understood herself.
Her family had made sure of that.
From the moment she could walk, there had been a sword in her hands.
From the moment she could think, there had been expectations placed on her shoulders.
Discipline.
Duty.
Strength.
Those things had defined her life for as long as she could remember.
The sword wasn't simply something she wielded.
It was part of her identity.
Part of who she was.
And the family that raised her to believe that?
They were everything.
Especially her father.
To Leona, her father wasn't just a parent.
He was a goal.
An ideal.
A living symbol of strength.
Someone she respected more than anyone else in the world.
Because of that, the answer had always seemed obvious.
Her future.
Her path.
Even the person she would eventually marry.
Everything would be decided by strength.
Nothing else mattered.
Or at least...
That was what she used to believe.
Leona let out a bitter laugh.
"I was such an idiot."
