The training yard stilled as Captain Roderick's voice cut across the clatter of wooden swords and the grunts of sparring guards.
"Nick!"
The name cracked through the yard like a whip. Heads turned, and a young man with cropped blond hair and a cocky stride broke away from a training circle. Sweat glistened on his brow, but his grin was sharp and self-assured.
"Yes, Captain?"
Roderick gestured with his chin toward Selvara. "Step forward. You'll be the one to test her."
Nick's eyes slid over Selvara and immediately lit with something more than professional interest. His lips curled into a smirk. "A duel with her, eh? Captain, you finally found me some motivation."
Three other guards trailed after him, curious. They were tall and broad, their armor patched but serviceable, their expressions somewhere between amusement and disbelief. One elbowed Nick playfully.
"Careful, Nick. Don't break her heart when you win."
The second snorted. "More like don't break her pretty face."
Nick waved them off with exaggerated confidence. "Relax. I'll go easy on her. Wouldn't want to ruin perfection."
Loid bristled, but Selvara's expression remained unchanged. Silver eyes stared forward, calm, unreadable, as though the insults hadn't even reached her ears.
Nick stepped closer, voice dropping to what he must've thought was a charming tone. "What's your name, beautiful?"
Selvara tilted her head slightly, silent.
Nick leaned in, grin widening. "Come on now, don't be shy. You fight me, maybe we get a drink after. I'll even buy you bread. How's that sound?"
For the first time, Selvara moved. Her eyes flicked to him, sharp as a blade drawn halfway from its sheath. No words followed. No acknowledgment. Only that cold, silver glance before she looked past him entirely.
Nick's smirk faltered for a heartbeat, then returned, though tighter than before. "Playing hard to get, eh? That's fine. I like a challenge."
Roderick's voice cut in, hard as iron. "Enough." He tossed a wooden sword toward Nick, who caught it easily, twirling it once with showmanship. Then he gestured to Selvara. "You too."
One of the guards handed her a wooden blade. Selvara accepted it without flourish, holding it loosely in her grip, as if it weighed no more than a feather.
Loid stepped forward quickly, voice tinged with unease. "Captain, forgive me… but is this standard? Pitting your best man against a newcomer?"
Roderick's gaze never left the two fighters. "If she cannot hold her own against Nick, she has no place among Thornfield's defenders. Better she fails here than when wolves are at the gate or steel at her throat."
Loid swallowed hard. His mind worked quickly, calculating. From the size of the village, the barracks, and the sparse number of men training, there couldn't be more than a hundred guards total if that. For a population of five thousand, surrounded by forests filled with beasts and threats unknown, it was woefully thin. Unless… unless every one of those guards are powerful.
He forced himself to steady his breathing. "Selvara…" he murmured under his breath, too low for others to hear. "Remember don't block just dodge."
She did not answer, but he caught the faintest twitch of her lips and a faint nod, a shadow of acknowledgment.
The air thickened. Guards gathered in a loose circle, whispers rippling through them. The sun dipped lower, painting the yard in gold. Dust motes drifted in the fading light.
Roderick raised his hand. "Begin."
---
Nick charged first, wooden sword whistling through the air. His swing was brutal, a cleave that would have broken bones if it were steel.
Selvara wasn't there.
She had slipped aside, weight shifting with a grace so fluid it looked unnatural. Her feet barely disturbed the dust. Nick's strike cracked against empty air, the force jolting through his arms.
He recovered quickly, spinning, bringing the blade around in a vicious backhand. Again, she wasn't there, she's already two steps beyond his reach.
The watching guards murmured.
"Did you see that?"
Nick growled, frustration edging his grin. "Fast, aren't you? But you won't keep dodging forever!"
He lunged, each step thundering against the packed earth. His strikes rained down overhead slashes, side cuts, thrusts delivered with raw power. Each swing carried the strength of a man who could bend iron, who could shatter wood with his bare hands.
Selvara danced.
She weaved through his blows, hair trailing like a dark ribbon. The wooden sword in her hand barely moved, held not as a weapon but as a promise. Her breaths were light, her expression unchanged, eyes sharp and focused. Every dodge was calculated to the inch, every slip past his guard deliberate.
Loid's heart pounded. One hit… just one hit, and it's over. Don't let him touch you.
Nick roared and brought his sword down in a crushing vertical strike. Selvara sidestepped, and in that fraction of an instant, her wooden blade flicked out tapping his wrist. Precise. Minimal. The kind of touch that, with steel, would have severed tendons.
Nick snarled, ignoring it, pressing harder. His attacks grew wilder, more desperate. Each miss drove him further into frustration, while Selvara's silence chipped at his pride.
"Stop running!" he barked, swinging again.
She leaned back just enough, his blade slicing air an inch from her face. Her own sword snapped forward, kissing the side of his knee before vanishing again.
The crowd gasped.
Roderick's eyes narrowed, arms folding across his chest.
Nick staggered, caught himself, then spat to the side. "Fine. You want serious?" He hefted the wooden blade with both hands, muscles bulging. His stance tightened. This wasn't showy anymore it was lethal.
He lunged, a thrust aimed to end the duel in one move.
Selvara blurred. Her speed surged, body twisting around the strike. Dust swirled in her wake. Before Nick could recover, her wooden blade struck once, twice, three times. Wrist, ribs, throat. Each hit landed with surgical precision, not enough to bruise with wood, but enough to promise death.
Nick froze, sword halted mid-swing. Selvara stood behind him, blade resting lightly against the back of his neck.
Silence fell.
The guards stared, wide-eyed. Loid realized he'd been holding his breath.
Roderick finally spoke, voice low but carrying across the yard. "Enough."
Selvara lowered her weapon, stepping back without flourish. Nick's chest heaved, his face flushed with anger and humiliation. He turned sharply, glaring at her, but that silver gaze met his like a wall of ice. Unmoving. Untouched. Unimpressed.
The wooden sword trembled in his grip. For a moment, Loid thought Nick might do something foolish. But then Roderick's presence loomed, and the younger man bit his tongue, slamming the blade into the dirt instead.
Roderick exhaled slowly, eyes lingering on Selvara. Then he nodded once. "You pass."
A ripple went through the gathered guards, shock, awe, murmurs of disbelief.
Roderick's gaze shifted to Loid, measuring, weighing. Then he grunted. "You were right."
Nick clenched his fists, jaw tight, but he said nothing. The other guards avoided his eyes, their admiration clearly shifted elsewhere.
Selvara, as always, remained silent. She stood with sword at her side, calm as though the duel had been a mere formality. But Loid caught the faintest glimmer in her eyes, a subtle, fleeting amusement.
She had toyed with Nick.
---
When the crowd finally dispersed, Roderick motioned them into the barracks office. The air inside was thick with oil and parchment, weapons lining the walls. He stood behind his desk, arms crossed.
"You'll have your contract," he said gruffly. "Ten silver a day, as all guards in the village. Payment at dusk, after daily duties."
Loid bowed his head slightly. "You have our gratitude, Captain."
Roderick's eyes flicked to Selvara again, sharp. "She's dangerous. Not just skilled but also dangerous. I don't know where you found her, but… keep her in line."
Loid's lips twitched faintly. "She's not the one you should worry about, Captain. It's anyone foolish enough to get in her way."
For the first time, Roderick almost smiled. Almost.
"Fair enough," he said. "Welcome to Thornfield, mercenaries. Let's see if you last longer than the last lot."
Loid raised an eyebrow. "The last lot?"
But Roderick didn't answer. He only waved them out.
Outside, the sun had dipped low, shadows stretching across the village. Selvara walked beside Loid, her pace unhurried, her silence comfortable.
Loid glanced at her, his chest still buzzing with adrenaline. "You know… you scared the hell out of me. One wrong step, one mistake, and he would've flattened you."
Selvara tilted her head, eyes flicking to him. For a heartbeat, her lips curved subtle, almost invisible.
"I don't make mistakes," she said softly.
It was the first thing she'd spoken since the fight.
Loid blinked, then laughed under his breath. "Yeah… I believe that."
And as the village torches lit one by one, the mercenary and his silent blade walked into Thornfield's night, the echoes of their first true test still humming in the air.