Diving Into An Icy Lake (4)
"For the first year I never even lasted more than a single exchange, where I would be disarmed and be beaten relentlessly until I was knocked out. It was not even until the second year that I was able to last more than a few strikes, using every fiber of my being to delay the inevitable mind shattering pain that would follow soon after. My father…he was a demon in that training room, a demon that was determined to make something out of me or break me trying" narrated Minerva.
---
Two people stood wearing loose fitting clothing, the optimal wear for those training in the sword, holding their wooden swords in hand and facing off against one another each in their own stances.
On one end was an aging man, his deep brown hair greying at the fringes and his wrinkles obvious to all. Yet all that one would feel from them was power and strength, no one would look at this man and say he has become weak due to his age. Instead, like a fine wine, it seemed as if his advanced age was a complement instead of a detriment.
On the other end was a young girl with black hair and equally black eyes, fair skin in all regard except on her hands which was full of callouses and bruising. All baby fat was gone from her figure, she was slim and on the short side perhaps due to the years of malnutrition but her arms were powerful and strong and her legs equally so…completely at odds with her pallid face and slightly sunken cheeks.
"You have talent my child, a gift from Mundus upon our family. So long as you train well and train hard, there is no limit to what you will receive. Even so…in this room there is no man or woman, no young or old, and no child and adult. There are only warriors, and warriors have no mercy for those they fight" stated the man, his voice deep and full of power.
Taking a single step forward, he brought down his sword with his full might onto his opponent.
Minerva's body moved reflexively, using the tried and true method of blocking that she had practiced time and time again in secret. Yet when the two wooden swords met, she realized how green she truly was.
As her father's sword smashed through her own and landed on her shoulder, smashing it and flattening her onto the ground, all she thought was
"A real fight is this different…" as she began to lose consciousness from the impact of her head against the wooden floor.
Standing with his sword against his shoulder, Minerva's father did not move to help or even have a single change in his expression.
"Fix her" ordered the man.
A lanky mage with a bright robe entered the room, leaning over the barely conscious Minerva and casting a few quick spells to mend the broken child who was strewn across the floor.
Fully healed Minerva stood up once again, shaking slightly but before she could utter a word another wooden sword was thrown into her hands once more.
"Again" ordered the man.
Moments later the same scene as before played out, a crushed sword and the broken figure of Minerva on the ground.
"Fix her…again…fix her…again…fix her…again…"
Was all that was heard in the training room, aside from cries of pain and the slamming of human flesh against the wooden floor.
For days on end, for weeks on end, and for months on end such a treatment continued each and every day without fail. Eventually the months turned into years, when Minerva for the first time was able to deflect her father's first strike…then second…and then third.
Having just blocked the third strike in a row, Minerva fully expanded her senses and tensed her muscles, preparing fully for the fourth.
Yet the fourth strike never came, instead words were given.
"Good my child, you have mastered the basics completely. Against superior strength you have enough technical skill and firm enough muscles to hold your own. Now we can begin the true test" said the man with praise, although his dry unchanging tone said otherwise.
"Prepare yourself" was the last words uttered before he brought down his training sword once more, exchanging two telegraphed moves before abruptly feinting and disarming Minerva.
The sword fell to the ground at her feet which she bent down to pick up but was met with a blow to her shoulder that knocked her onto the ground.
Pain erupted from all over her body as she was subjected to a series of attacks from her father, breaking both her arms and two of her ribs.
"The fight is only over when your opponent is on the ground, unmoving" stated the man as he towered over the shattered body of his biological daughter, his tone and face still completely and utterly unchanging.
"Fix her"
"Again"
---
Stopping in her tale once more, calming her breathing and freeing her nails that had dug fully into her palms, Minerva looked up towards Cyrus to see his reaction to her story thus far.
"Pity, I hate it the most" thought Minerva as she looked up, deciding that the story would end here if she was looked down upon.
To her surprise however, Cyrus was still the same as ever and had not even moved an inch. The same expression of interest and cold air surrounded him, as he met the glance back with a smirk.
"So that is why you have so many signs of constant damage and subsequent healing, curtesy of your own father. What an interesting human dynamic to say the least. Where I am from the amount of men that would give anything to have their children returned to them is as plentiful as the sand that covers the ground. Yet your own seems to value you no more than the sword he holds, perhaps even less so. I suppose this is some kind of cultural difference?" said Cyrus in mockery.
The response shocked Minerva, as evidenced by her mouth parting slightly but no words coming out.
"This ally of mine is not one that can be measured with my silly expectations it would seem. Who says that after hearing such a tale?" thought a now chuckling Minerva.
"More laughter….maybe my other half was on to something with that comedian thing" muttered Cyrus, which did not do anything to cease the laughter from Minerva.
"Regain your seriousness girl, did you break from sharing your past finally? There are only so many hours left this night…how about you answer me this: your life was quite unbearable from what I understand, so why not just leave? I know that there are orphanages here, not to mention the various temples that would love to have a young warrior join them, or maybe this Unity thing or whatever" asked Cyrus in annoyance.
Clearing her throat in an attempt to regain her cool, Minerva answered the question with a lighter tone.
"Simple, because although the training was terrible everything else was perfection at that point in time. My father paid attention to my every need, I had an amazing friend who had my back, and even my mother began to slightly warm up to be now that my father was completely content with his family for once. The price for this perfection was the training, and if it were just that then I could get through it if only I tried hard enough…or so I told myself."
"Then I take it this so called perfection did not last for too long?"
"Indeed, it only lasted all the way up until just before I turned fourteen. Everything began to crumble down because of a letter, such a small thing with only a single piece of parchment that contained a short message: a betrothal request between me, the sole inheritor of the family name, and another heir of a different family. I was no stranger to such requests due to me being made acutely aware of my 'beauty', but they were always turned down by my father. This one though…this one was accepted without hesitation for the offer was from a family too powerful to be ignored, not that my father wished for that to happen as such a union could only benefit ours. Power and influence, but most importantly respect, all if one little girl just sacrifices herself for the greater good."
---
Standing across from her father who was seated on his favorite chair placed behind his beloved desk, was an older Minerva but still not the one that Cyrus was familiar with. She had clearly been eating well and both her hair and skin were well taken care of for she was almost glistening whenever the sun peaked in through the clouds and window to shine upon her face.
Her countenance was also brighter than before, no longer mired in sorrow and depression but instead one of contentment and satisfaction.
She stood at attention, curious as to why she was called here but knew that she was not to speak unless spoken to so she maintained her silence and respectfully waited.
Her father held a letter in his hand, one that he had read over and over again since Minerva had entered the room, even breaking his usual neutral expression into what one could call a smile if you squinted real hard and turned your head to the side.
Finally he spoke, throwing the letter to Minerva as he did so.
"Your time to serve the family has finally come. With this union our standing will raise and be secure even without a male heir, we will be forever joined to one of the most powerful families in the entire southern region and your future offspring will be the greatest generation this family has ever had. Do your part well child, and you will continue to have whatever you desire" said her father, ending with a command as usual.
Minerva read the letter, her barely bright aura dimming with each word she read until she had trouble controlling herself so she did not simply tear the letter to shreds.
"I was naïve to believe for even a moment I could perhaps naturally seek love like in the stories. Of princes on white horses and heroes who brave impossible danger to rescue their fated…this is reality, that is fiction. Maybe this person will not be so bad…I will not know until we meet" thought Minerva, desperately trying her best to convince herself.
On the outside Minerva simply saluted in acknowledgement, as she had been told to do whenever they were not in public.
Like the good solider she was raised to be, she hid her emotions deep within and left the room. Preparing herself to meet her future husband…
---
The story reached a lull once more, which prompted Cyrus to impatiently ask
"Well? Who is this family and who is the one you were engaged to. The story is just getting good, hurry up now."
"Such disregard when the personification of beauty is telling such a woeful tale, as a man should you not come and comfort me by whispering sweet nothings?" said Minerva in a playful tone, but her shaky voice and iron grip on her seat revealed her true feelings easily.
"Spare me, I can barely tell the difference between two people let alone judge someone on such a subjective trait as that" scoffed Cyrus.
"I can easily tell that the following is the crux the story, that root of everything that supersedes even your extremely questionable family relations. I can imagine that this is not easy for you, but it is necessary for me to know. Both to satisfy my interest and for how we work together moving forward…also to shut up my annoying other half before he yells my ear off. Continue" said Cyrus.
Taking a deep breath and trying her best to stop her body from shaking, which was to no avail, Minerva began once more.