Chapter 212: Arc 5-Winter War-45

Alana’s day started off as it always did. Habit woke her up before dawn and she fought the possessive hands of sleep to get out of bed. The room offered to her by the Hall was by no means luxurious. It had enough space for a small bed, a single dresser, and room to walk between them. Clumsy hands riffled through her dresser and changed her clothes. An old chest at the foot of the bed held her equipment.

She picked up her sword with a fond smile. It was nothing special, a simple steel blade with several nicks along the edge and a plain wooden hilt. Not a weapon most would be proud to show off, but it was the blade that had changed her life. Her teacher had given it to her after she’d received a letter from the Hall offering her a free education.

Every time she looked at it, it reminded her that her life could be, and would be, more than catering to a family that had denied her existence for majority of her life. That she could live with honor donned in armor and swinging a blade as opposed to the other bastards of the James family who could look forward to donning servant uniforms and wielding brooms.

As always, the thought cleared her head and filled her with energy. She quickly put on her armor and strapped her sword to her waist before leaving her room.

Few were awake at the early hour. Young servants slinked through the halls, preparing for the day. They dipped their heads in greeting if they noticed her but no one stopped to exchange words. She didn’t hold it against them. The Bronze Dorm housed the most students. The accommodations may be minimal but they still were responsible for the care of hundreds.

The thin walls allowed her to hear a few others starting their day, mainly in ways that made her flush and quicken her steps. The cool morning air quickly distracted her from the shameful behavior of others. The crisp breeze was both refreshing and oppressive, bringing back memories of her childhood home. No matter how many fires burned, Fort Victory could never escape the chill of winter.

She thought the constant cold explained why their knights trained so hard, desperate to feel the slightest warmth even at the expense of their battered bodies.

Circling around to the back of the dorm, she drew her blade and took a stance, both hands on the hilt of her sword as she held it straight in front of her. Slowly, she raised her arms and brought it down in a simple chop, focused on controlling the blade at every moment. Her teacher always told her, any fool could swing a blade with all their might and kill a man. What separated a knight from a brute was control. Control came from technique and techniques were built from practice. From the day her teacher took her in, she had never missed a day of practice.

Over and over, she repeated that single chop until she reached a count of a hundred. Then she cycled through a diagonal slash, a horizontal slash, an upward slash, and a forward thrust, doing a hundred repetitions each. Then she practiced combinations, feints, and combining them with movement.

By the time she finished, the sun was starting to rise and she was drenched in sweat. Alana sheathed her sword and hurried back into the dorm, eager to use the communal bath before it got crowded.

The one thing she didn’t like about her new life was the lack of space. She didn’t have any before, sharing a one-bedroom house with her mother until she was twelve and bunking with her fellow recruits once her teacher found her. It was something she’d hoped would change at the Hall but money always mattered. A large home with a bath she could swim in and not be disturbed by anyone was just another thing she had to wait for until she became a famous knight.

By time she showered and changed, the dorm was in full swing, doors banging open and closed as a stampede of people moved through the halls. The neighboring door opened and Marthe stepped out dressed in a short, red skirt and a sleeveless white shirt. Without any witnesses, the scorn that normally colored her expression was gone, leaving behind a cute young woman with a little bit of baby fat on her face.

“Morning,” Alana called, taking a few quick steps to reach her side and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey. Breakfast?”

“Oh, no way. We’re eating at Lou’s, trust me.”

“That good?”

“Depends on if she lets Geo loose but it’s definitely better than eating here.”

Marthe scoffed. “…you’re going to get yourself in trouble.”

“Hm? What are you talking about?”

The redhead eyed her dubiously. “This…thing between the two of you. Being pursued by a noble. It never ends well.”

“Have you forgotten I’m a noble too?”

“Not yet. You’re not like them.”

Alana didn’t know why her friend hated nobles. She’d never found a good opportunity, as it was clearly something personal. Their friendship wasn’t one where she felt comfortable probing the other girl’s pain. “I’m not. And neither is Lou.”

Marthe laughed drily. “Yeah, she’s not. Only the saints know if she’s better or worse.”

Alana’s mouth opened to defend her friend but the words stalled in her throat. Lou certainly wasn’t a bad person but she didn’t know if she could say she was a good person. Rather than integrity, Alana felt that her friend hadn’t erred because the situation hadn’t called for it.

Flashes of memory entered her mind. A large bed, her blurry vision just able to make out two figures entwined atop it. A tanned woman with short dark hair moaning under—

Alana viciously shoved the memories aside. “Lou’s not a good person but she’s not someone you need to be worried about. Otherwise, she’d never put up with your constant needling.”

Marthe grinned. “Heh. She’s just a big softy, isn’t she?”

Alana stiffened as the memories she worked so hard not think about loudly contradicted her. “Eh-hem. Ah, let’s hurry up. We might have to do some convincing to get Lou to feed us.”

“I’d thought she’d jump at the opportunity to dine us.”

“If it were just us, I’m sure she would have but William and his pig are coming.” Lou’s proclivities were well-known throughout the Hall but her aversion to the opposite gender wasn’t. Alana thought it was a little funny how unsympathetic toward men Lou could be. Mainly because she didn’t think she had anything against them. Lou cared so much for women, especially beautiful ones, she didn’t have any care left for the hairier sex.

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They walked together toward the residential district, Marthe becoming more uncomfortable the larger the houses became. By time they reached Lou’s home, she was as stiff as block of wood but it wasn’t simply because of her aversion to money. The burned out garden and visible damage to the house made her grab her sword and hurry toward the two figures standing at the edge of the property. “William!”

William turned around. “Goo—”

“Oi, blondie! This how the place usually looks?” Arthur interrupted in his usual bellow.

Alana sneered at him. “Yes, because burned battlefield is in style right now. Move, you idiot.” She had originally wanted to ask them if they saw what happened but that comment clearly showed they were just as clueless. Alana didn’t think that anything could happen to Lou while Kierra was home but she couldn’t quell her reflexive worry as she hurried toward the house.

Worry that spiked when she noticed the broken door. “Lou!” she shouted, not bothering to be polite as she dashed inside, the other members of her team right behind her.

“Miss Alana!”

Alana relaxed as Earl exited the kitchen with a smile. For some reason, his usual purple jacket was replaced with a black one, something she’d never seen before, but he seemed to be in good health. “Hey, Earl. Everything alright?”

“Yes. Mistress was just having a bit of fun.”

The confirmation eased Alana’s anxiety, replacing it with exasperation. “Should have seen that coming.” She could only blame herself for taking anything that happened with Lou seriously.

“Are these the other members of your team?”

Alana looked over her shoulder. William was casually taking in the house while Arthur and Marthe were focused on Earl; one with boredom and the other with a furrowed brow. “Yes. Earl, this is—”

“Miss Marthe, Lord William, and…Arthur.”

She didn’t blink at his surprising insight. “Team, this is Earl, Lou’s steward.”

Earl bowed elegantly. “If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“What in the deep is up with this brat?” Arthur snarled. “You don’t feel right.”

The young steward looked at him steadily. “I am a simple servant and you are a reluctant guest of my lady—”

“What do you mean reluctant, ah?”

“As such, you have nothing to fear from me. Breakfast is currently being prepared and will be served in the garden. There is no need to worry—”

He was interrupted by a heavy thump and a muffled scream.

The room collectively looked toward the ceiling as a series of thumps followed, each louder than the last.

“Ah.” William broke the awkward silence with a hesitant tone. “Is everything…”

“I assure you, everything is fine. The lady is simply getting ready for the day.”

The banging above them grew louder along with the voice. Arthur chuckled and the sound filled Alana with dread. She had a good idea what was going but couldn’t help straining her ears, trying to make out more details, unconsciously moving toward the stairs.

“…ah….ahhhh…AHHH, FUCK! FUCK ME KIIIAAAAAHHHHHHHH—”

“Miss Alana?”

Alana jumped, hand snapping out to grab the railing as she found her balance. Her face flushed red as a cherry as she realized she was almost halfway up the steps, the room watching her with questioning eyes. “I, uh…”

“Perhaps we should all move to the garden while we wait for my lady to get ready? The table has already been prepared.”

“Yeah, uh, uh-huh. Good idea.” She leaped off the stairs as if they’d caught fire, ignoring the other members of her team. “And tell that degenerate to hurry up!”

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