Aveline never believed in fate. Or rather, she never really thought about it that deeply. But thinking back on it now, she couldn't help but account it to fate.
She was 12 and venturing in the vast forest behind the estate when she first met him. Now older, she wanted to roam deeper into the wood and see if she would use her magic to hunt animals. The Faylinn forest was known to have many different types of animals, including foxes, boars, deer, rabbits, squirrels, and the like. She had heard from Anna that sometimes monsters would appear there too, but that was a rare occasion. Never the less, she was warned never to go too deep into the forest.
But she did. And it was during one of those adventures that she met him. A man not that much older from her brother. She was trying to out a new technique she read about. Adding magic incantations to weapons. She had a small wooden sword that she wanted to apply a sharp cut effect on.
However, it wasn't really that easy. Magic already has the power to effect the physical forms of most things it comes in contact with, but that mainly involves an action that occurs on the object it comes in contact with. For example, you can have magic burn or cut something. Changing or enhancing the abilities of a sword is different.
Magic will envelop the sword, and the incantation of the magic has the effect set it. So if one was to use an incantation of cut onto the sword, the moment the sword touches something, the magic will be implemented on the object. But that defeats the purpose. Its effective if someone doesn't have the strength to swing a sword and simply wishes it would cut whatever it touches. But it's more effective to just send out the magic incantation to do it. Why add an unnecessary step of first adding the spell to the sword and having the sword touch the target.
That is why Aveline thought knight masters were amazing. People could be divided into two types, those that are born knights and those that are born mages. Even those have differentiations.
Knights could progress through several stages, from weapon enhancement to speed enhancement and finally strength enhancement. Mages, on the other hand, had several categories they could excel at, such as water specialization (perfect for healing and area of effect magic), illusion specialization, incantation specialization, puppet control specialization, ruin specialization, and barrier specialization.
Not every person could master all the stages. Some were adept in certain areas and excelled only in those. But in rare cases, there are people who grow beyond the norm. For mages that master all types of specialization, they become an Omnimage. For knights that master all enhancements, they become an Omniknight. However, those are extremely rare. Aveline herself had only mastered water and incantation specialization, currently training her ruin specialization.
Coming back to the point, Aveline realizes that simply adding spells to a sword is useless. However, learning basic fighting and defence in sword fighting might come in handy in situations where she can't use magic or runs out of mana. However, sword weilding isn't something you can learn through a book. At most she can do is mimic the sword fighting she saw in cartoon and anime, but that was basically swinging it around.
As if fate knew what Aveline needed, she met him. Having failed to try out the new theory she had, swinging her wooden sword around pointlessly. She hears a cruck behind her ear, instinctively swinging the sword behind her. The sword was blocked before she could swing her arm all through, a hand holding onto it.
"Woah there, missy." she heard. There stood a man somewhat older than Everett. Maybe around the same age as her oldest brother? The man had black hair, which was a color she hadn't seen before. On closer look, the hair had some shades of blue in it, too dark to be considered anything other than black. His eyes a deep blue, intrigued by the little girl in front of them.
Aveline quickly moves away, shrugging her sword out of his grip, or maybe he simply let go. She takes a couple of slow steps back, trying to maximize her vision of the intruder. "Who are you?" She asked, racking her brain for what kind of spell she could use.
"A visitor of the forest. Like you." he smiled and shrugged.
Aveline kept his eyes on him. He didn't give a name. And perhaps that was for the best. Aveline wouldn't have to give hers either. But they knew. He could tell she knew who he might be. The characteristic hair and eye color could only ever belong to one famous family. But that was only suspicion. There is no reason someone from the North would be here.
Likewise, the man knew who she was. While there wasn't much information on the daughter of the Faylinn family, anyone with the right connection in the noble family would know. Her characteristics and the fact that they were near the Faylinn territory would be the biggest hint.
However, they could both pretend they had no idea and be on their merry way. The man smiled, as if knowing that Aveline understood. He pointed his sword at the wooden one in her hands, "You're terrible at this."
Aveline glared at the man. The stranger who had the audacity to critique her on something she has never done before. Plus he was trespassing. Isn't he? It's not like people are forbidden entry into the forest, only until a certain point. But that's besides the point.
"I don't remember asking for your opinion" She retorted back, turning around to leave. She half expected the man to stop her, but he didn't. She turned around to look at the man before she left, but he had only laid down next to a tree.
What a strange man.
****************
The Faylinn estate's forest had always been Aveline's refuge—dense, silent, and just wild enough to feel like a world untouched by the expectations laid upon her. It was where she practiced her sigils, gathered herbs, and—most importantly—could breathe without anyone watching.
But today, someone was there. Again. Aveline had stopped worrying about the man anymore. It has happened too many times already. Her sanctuary now had a constant intruder. Sometimes the intruder would let her be. Sometimes he would talk to her.
That day, Aveline had walked out to the forest after a bad day. Anna had started to get older, her stories focussed on her family back at the village. Anna knew she couldn't stay here forever. That at some point, she would leave. The only reason she hasn't yet is because Aveline is still here. So she needed to do something. To escape before she is sold off to a political marriage, killed by a drunk and angry father, or kicked out by an older brother who inherits the house. Her imagination was crazy, but not completely opposite. And Aveline would always be one to prepare for any scenario.
Aveline stopped abruptly when she noticed a tall figure standing by the clearing's old willow tree. His back was turned, but she recognized the midnight-black coat with silver embroidery, the slight tilt of his head—as if always listening—even before he spoke.
"You move too quietly for someone who doesn't want to startle anyone," Alden Eryndale said, not turning around.
Aveline blinked.
"You knew I was here?"
Alden finally faced her, smiling slightly. "Your footsteps hesitate three times before this clearing. You're cautious. That's good."
"I wasn't trying to hide," she muttered.
"Yes," he said, stepping forward, "but you weren't trying to be seen either."
There was something soothing and unsettling about him at once—like standing near a bonfire that was warm but capable of burning you.
"What brings you here? Again." she asked, emphasizing the again.
"I could ask you the same."
Alden tapped the practice sword in his hand, wooden but well-carved. "I came to train."
Aveline looked at it—then at him. "Train? Here?"
"Why not? The forest listens and advises better than some people."
Why does everyone here speak in such riddles. She wanted to ask what that meant, but Alden's gaze had already shifted—evaluating her, studying her.
"You're tense," he said. "Something weighs on your mind."
She stiffened. "Nothing of consequence."
"That means it matters," he replied gently.
Aveline didn't answer.
Alden studied her for another moment before handing her the spare wooden sword strapped to his side.
"Hold it."
Aveline raised both hands. "Why?"
"Because," he said, stepping closer, "The last time you held a wooden sword, you completely sucked at it. Plus, you're planning to run away from here, aren't you?"
Aveline froze.
Her heartbeat skipped painfully.
"…I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You're restless. Your eyes keep searching the tree line as if you're measuring the quickest escape route. And your gait—light, but ready. People only walk like that when they've decided to leave."
Her fingers tightened involuntarily around the hilt.
"Don't worry," Alden said. "I'm not here to stop you. I have no reason to pry."
She looked up sharply.
"I'm here," he continued, "to make sure that if you run… you can protect yourself. The world isn't a nice place, especially for a small little girl unprepared to fight."
Aveline had a problem with the word small. and little.
He took the sword from her hands and placed it back with a slow, deliberate press. Aveline wonders how much of an unprepared little girl he would see her as if he knew about the magic she could cast.
"Start by standing properly."
Aveline swallowed. "…You're offering to teach me?"
"I'm offering you strength."
He stepped back, raising his own sword.
"First lesson," Alden said. "Stance. The foundation of every strike.
Spread your feet—shoulder-width. No wider."
Aveline did so. There was no reason to refuse. Learning the sword would be another thing she knew how to do. Something that could come in handy. And also something she couldn't learn by herself.
"Good. Now bend your knees slightly. Your weight shouldn't sit on your heels."
He tapped her ankle lightly with his foot.
"Shift forward—yes. Feel the ground. A swordsman who doesn't know where their weight is will die early."
"You're very blunt," she muttered.
"Yes," Alden said, "and alive. Now—your grip."
For fuck's sake.. does he need to add some enlightened answer to every repsonse.
He walked behind her. His hand moved over hers—guiding, not restricting.
"Don't strangle the sword. Loosen your top hand. Tighten your bottom hand. Let the blade pivot, not fight you."
She adjusted, and he nodded approvingly.
"Better."
Aveline felt heat rise to her cheeks for reasons she didn't want to examine. No way is she happy about being complimented.
"Now," Alden continued, "raise the blade."
She lifted it in front of her.
"No," he said immediately. He stepped closer again, one hand lightly nudging her elbow.
"Not straight up like a torch. Tilt it—forty-five degrees. If it's straight, your arms will tire. If it's too low, you'll die."
"Again with the death thing," she grumbled.
"This is a sword," he said dryly. "Death is part of the package. It's not made to cut really big carrots."
Aveline snorted—and then startled at the sound of her own laugh.
It had been a while.
Alden's eyes softened. "There. That's better."
He lifted his blade.
"Now watch closely. I'll show you a simple downward strike."
He raised the sword above his shoulder, not directly overhead.
"The mistake beginners make," he said, "is swinging from above the head. It's slow. Predictable. Instead—shoulder level. Your motion comes from your core, not your arms."
He swung. A clean, controlled arc.
"Try it."
Aveline inhaled and imitated the move.
"Too stiff," Alden said. He placed one hand on her waist, the other on her shoulder. Woah there buddy. Where is this going? "Twist from here. Your power comes from the hips—not brute force."
She tried again.
"Better," he said. "Again."
She struck.
"Again."
Another.
"Again."
By the thirteenth strike, Aveline was panting lightly, strands of hair sticking to her face. Alden handed her a cloth.
"Swordsmanship is rhythm," he said. "Not speed. Not strength. Rhythm."
"And if I have none?"
"Then I'll beat it into you," he said calmly and shrugged.
Aveline stared. "You're joking?"
"No. This is my soul purpose on Earth. Beating little girls. That and sleeping in forests"
She burst into laughter again before she could stop herself.
Alden's expression softened in a way that made her chest tighten.
"You're doing well," he said quietly.
Aveline looked down. "…Why help me?"
Alden sheathed his practice sword.
"Because someone should have," he said.
"And because you remind me of a lone wolf—quiet, proud, hurt… but unwilling to give up."
"I'm not a wolf," she whispered.
"No," Alden said gently.
"But you could be."
There was a pause—long and fragile.
"Same time tomorrow?" he asked.
Aveline hesitated. "…If I come."
"You will," Alden said with certainty.
"You want strength too much to stay away."
She didn't deny it.
Alden stepped back into the shadows of the trees. "Aveline." he said, nodding his head good bye.
She met his gaze. So he did know who she was. Two can play at that game. There was only one person that fit the characteristic and that age. Aveline was sure. "Alden" she said in the same tone, doing a curtsy. He only smiled.
"Next time," he said, "we'll work on footwork. And how to strike without losing balance."
He smiled faintly.
"And perhaps," he added, "how to stop leading with your emotions."
Aveline narrowed her eyes. "I do not—"
"Yes, you do," he said, turning.
"It's what makes you interesting."
And just like that, Alden disappeared into the quiet woods—leaving Aveline with a racing heart, trembling hands, and the first real hint of physical strength she had ever tasted.
**********************
Aveline moved slowly to the clearing, though she would never admit—even under threat of death—that she'd been counting the minutes until sunrise.
Alden was already there.
Not training.
Napping.
Aveline couldn't tell how many times these past few weeks she had found him exactly like this.
On the lowest branch of the willow tree, coat half fallen off, sword tucked between his arm and ribs like a pillow.
They had been at it for a couple of months now. Almost everyday, they would meet and train and talk. Alden now started to feel like a mentor, a friend, and a brother.
Aveline stared. "Are you… sleeping?"
Without opening his eyes, Alden replied,
"If you call contemplating the universe with my eyes closed 'sleeping', then yes."
She sighed. "That is exactly what I call it. You said training started at dawn."
"It did." He dropped down lightly from the branch, landing a foot in front of her. "You were late."
"I am on time." She said, offended.
"You're adorable when you're defensive."
"I am not—!"
"There it is again." Alden grinned and tossed her the wooden sword. "Come on, Wolf Cub."
"Not much of a cub now. A complete person."
"A Wolf Cub person. Now get into your stance."
Aveline grumbled but obeyed. She couldn't get used to this playful nature of Alden. When they first met, he seemed serious, more refined. Now, it's like he no longer feels the need to pretend. Perhaps his true nature is more annoying older brother.
His playful tone faded when he moved closer. "Good. We've already practiced the basic strikes. Today, we build your foundation more."
He stepped behind her and tapped lightly along her shoulders, hips, and knees.
"Relax your shoulders. Lower your center of gravity. You must feel rooted, but never stuck. A swordsman moves like water, not stone."
Aveline took a breath and adjusted.
"Better," Alden said. "Now—guards."
He stood in front of her and raised his sword diagonally above his shoulder.
"This is High Guard. Strong offense. Weak defense. Good for intimidating—and for chopping someone who annoys you."
He winked at her.
"It suits you."
Aveline huffed. "I do not intimidate people."
"Oh trust me, little cub" Alden said, "you do."
He shifted to a forward guard, blade pointing directly at her chest.
"This is Middle Guard. Best for control. Your sword protects your center line. If they can't touch your center line, they can't kill you."
He moved again, lowering the sword beside his hip.
"And this is Tail Guard. Defensive. Good for counters."
He gestured for her to replicate each posture. She did.
"No," Alden said.
"Your wrist is bending. Straighten it. A bent wrist breaks under pressure. A straight wrist breaks skulls."
"Alden!" Always with the brutality.
"What?" He smirked. "These are important life lessons."
She tried again, straighter this time.
"Good. Now footwork."
He kicked a small rock.
"Move it toward me."
Aveline stepped forward.
"No. That is 'walking.' We do not walk in swordsmanship. We glide."
He demonstrated a sliding step, smooth and controlled.
"The front foot leads, the back foot follows. Never cross your feet. You cross your feet, you die. You trip, you die. You blink too long—"
"I die. Yes, I gathered," she muttered.
He chuckled. "Oh, you'll live. Barely. Now try."
She slid forward.
"Too stiff," he said. "You're moving like a startled goat."
"I—what?!"
"Try again, Wolf Cub."
Aveline took a slow breath.
Slide.
Slide.
Slide.
Her movements flowed.
Alden smiled—genuine this time. "There. That's it."
She felt warmth bloom in her chest.
"Now we combine the two. Guard, footwork, strike."
He stepped back, raising his sword. "I'll attack slowly. You deflect."
"You'll what—?"
Alden was already moving.
She yelped as he swung a diagonal cut—not fast, but firm.
Aveline lifted her blade on instinct.
"No!" Alden snapped. He stepped in, fixing her posture. "Angle your sword. A block takes force. A deflection redirects it. You're not a wall—you're a river."
He guided her hand, tilting the blade.
"Try again."
He struck.
She angled the blade.
The wooden swords slid against each other with controlled friction.
Alden nodded. "Good girl."
Aveline glared. "Don't call me that."
"Fine. Good violent little wolf."
"That isn't better."
"Oh, but it suits you so well."
She swung at him—intending to smack his shoulder.
Alden dodged it with ease.
"Good! Anger gives power. But precision gives victory."
"Stop talking like a mysterious old master," she snapped.
"Who said I'm not mysterious? Or old? I might be ancient. You never know."
She rolled her eyes.
He dropped into Middle Guard.
"Now again. Strike."
Aveline lifted her sword and slashed downward.
Alden stepped to the side, letting her blade pass his shoulder before tapping her in the ribs with the flat of his sword.
Aveline gasped. "Ow—!"
"You overextended," Alden said cheerfully. "Never chase your own strike. Control it. Always return to guard."
He stepped back, breathing steady, gaze sharp.
"You're learning fast. So fast it's scary."
Aveline blinked. "…Scary?"
"Yes. Most people take weeks to reach your level of coordination."
His tone softened. "You're special."
Heat crept up her neck.
Alden noticed—of course he did—and grinned wickedly.
"Don't worry. I'll make sure you can actually beat someone before your legs fall off."
"That's comforting."
"Glad to help."
He clapped his hands. "Now—horizontal strikes. Like this."
He swung sideways, blade level with his shoulders.
"A sweeping cut. Hard to block. Perfect for punishing people who say rude things to you."
"You're the only one who says rude things to me."
"Well then, practice on me."
She swung.
Alden ducked easily.
"Too slow. Again."
She swung harder.
He parried it with a twist of his wrist, flicking her blade upward.
"Better. Again."
Again. And again. And again.
Until Aveline's arms trembled and sweat slid down her spine.
Alden finally lowered his sword. "Enough for today."
Aveline staggered back, panting. "I… hate you."
"No you don't," he said, handing her a waterskin.
"You hate that I'm right."
Aveline took it, drinking deeply.
Alden sat beside her, leaning back on his hands. "You're improving faster than anyone I've trained."
Aveline blinked. "…Anyone?"
"Oh yes," he said casually. "Even my brother took longer."
Caelum Eryndale, his brother. I wonder how good he is at this.
"You have talent," Alden continued. "And grit. A rare combination."
He flicked her forehead lightly.
"Don't waste it."
"I'm trying."
"You're succeeding," he said softly.
There was a moment—quiet, warm, fragile.
Alden broke it with a grin.
"Now go home, Wolf Cub. You smell like you wrestled a boar and lost."
Aveline threw a leaf at him.
He dodged it dramatically. "Violence! I'm wounded!"
And—for the first time in a long time—Aveline walked back to the estate with a smile she didn't try to hide.