IRENA exited the annex tower veiled in the darkness of night carrying her sword. She had immediately asked Sissel about whether there was any space available for sword training when he escorted her to her room that evening, but it had taken until they were finished with dinner and about to sleep before he finally answered, “Feel free to use the courtyard.”
Practicing landing hits in total darkness is useless. But I’ll at least get in some practice swings. Irena resigned herself to a less satisfactory training session as she walked across the gangway bridge. What she saw when she turned the corner, however, made her doubt her eyes. There were ten iron baskets with fires burning inside, providing light by encircling the courtyard where Ori was practicing agile swings with the empty air as his opponent.
Ori’s sword style was slightly different from the style Irena had practiced since childhood. Naturally, the foundational moves such as thrust, cut, feint, circle parry and so on had the same base form, but Ori took a rather creative approach to them. Irena had no doubt that her father’s eyelids would snap back, eye whites bulging, and his nostrils would flare the moment he witnessed the heresy of his moves. Ori’s swordplay during the clash with Chelveny had been the definition of phantasmagoric.
Irena focused every fiber in her being on Ori’s movement. Analyzing the rhythm of his footwork, her eyes followed his sword. She imagined moving like him in her mind while searching for openings in his defense.
Irena’s feet kicked off the ground faster than any conscious thought. She launched a lunge quicker than his right leg stepped forward and attacked.
At the brink of a sword clash, they both masterfully stopped their swords a centimeter apart.
Ori’s upper lip curled, his eyes challenging her. “Nice move.”
“I might not look like it, but I am the daughter of the Vigilante Corps’ leader.”
Ori was already used to hearing her say that, but he cocked his eyebrow as if he had gleaned some new information from it this time. “That means you aren’t a member of the Vigilante Corps yourself, then.”
Irena could only return a strained smile. “It’s one of those, ‘It’s no place for a woman’ things.” She sighed heavily, releasing all the air in her lungs. Then she looked up at Ori. “So I was kind of happy when you mistook me for Unen back when we first met in the saloon. Obviously, you’d have to take age into account in your search for Sparrow Eyes, but I was surprised that you didn’t judge us based on gender.”
“You must’ve been real happy; so much that you would beautifully sweep my feet out from underneath me.”
Irena dramatically put her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest. “This and that are different issues. I have to protect Unen from shady outsiders.”
They heard a third pair of feet walk into the courtyard grounds.
“Why are you so concerned with that girl anyway?” Mouru chimed in, joining them by the swaying fires. The orange lights casting a glow onto his cheeks were powerless against the darkness of his Mage’s Black hair. “I find it strange. You’re so overprotective and you aren’t even relatives.”
Irena’s brows pulled together in a disgusted scowl. “It has nothing to do with you.”
But Mouru remained unfazed by her cutting remark. Thoughtfully rubbing the bottom of his chin, he mused, “Rather than overprotective, maybe it’s better to say it feels like you’re guarding some sort of small animal you happened to picked up…? Ah, or is it one of those cases where you want her around to make you look better—”
“If you say any more,” Irena spat, “I’ll chop you up with this sword and feed you to the pigs.” She gripped her right hand tightly with her left to stop herself as she shook with rage.
“Mouru,” Ori warned, exasperation in his voice. “Think of a different way to phrase things if you actually want her to answer your question.”
Confused by what Ori was insinuating, Irena took a good look at Mouru’s face.
Fire blazed in his eyes, reflecting the cressets’ light. Like the eyes of a hunter waiting patiently for his prey to be caught in the perfect trap. Mouru was purposely agitating her to get the information he wanted.
Irena felt hopelessly stupid for taking him seriously. Letting out a deep, deep sigh, she gave up and opened her mouth to speak because she wouldn’t get anywhere with her training otherwise. “Simon—”
“Who?” Mouru interrupted right off the bat.
Ori groaned and offered a short explanation. “The son of the doctor Unen lives with. The blond boy.”
“Ahh, him.”
Does Mouru have a hard time remembering people’s names? Maybe he has no desire to even try. He’s a man who’s audacious in all respects. Irena’s shoulders slumped. Anyway, I need to hurry and shut this guy up so I can get back to training. Pulling herself together, Irena lifted her head.
“He lost his right leg in the earthquake three years ago.”
Memories of the incident rushed through her mind in a flash. Simon, rescued by five people from under the debris and rubble of a collapsed building. Fresh blood pouring from him without stopping. Screams and shrieks ringing out. And just when everyone present is preparing themselves for Simon’s death, an unfamiliar man picks him up. His long, hay-colored braided hair swings as he stands up with Simon in his arms, paying no mind to the blood dirtying his clothes. The heroic determination brimming in his eyes as he utters three words, “I’ll save him.”
“Simon was a popular guy with no end in the number of women who wanted to marry him because he was smart, handsome, and had great future prospects. All of that came to an abrupt end with the earthquake.”
Irena gestured meaninglessly with her hands to shake away the memories of the past as she went on, “It was the same as sentencing Simon, who had always been popular, as a man of no use just because he didn’t have his right leg. He was thrown completely into despair and acted with self-abandonment for a time after that. I didn’t know how to comfort him either. But you know what Unen said? ‘It’s not like your value as a person was in the leg you lost, Simon. Forget those people who only loved your leg and think about the people who love you for all of you.’”
Mouru quietly raised an entertained eyebrow at the story. Irena surprisingly found herself having fun reminiscing about it too.
“And Simon’s face, when he heard her say that, I just…”
“You just what?”
“Eh? Ah, nah, um, well?”
Irena just barely realized that the rest of what she had to say, no matter how she said it, would be her fawning over him. She distracted herself from the heat rushing to her cheeks with a cough and glared at Mouru.
“A-Anyway, Unen became a very, very, very important person to us ever since. Got it?”
“I got it. You’ve more than convinced me.”
Irena felt even more embarrassed because Mouru had agreed with a dead serious face.