9 Ward

_Ward_

Slash, slash -clink- parry. Slash, slash -clink- miss. The girl grunted as her father's wooden sword came and jabbed her in the ribs. Her wild black hair had long since slipped from its tied up style and now it was spread out, messy among her shoulders. It needed a cut, she didn't like to keep it too long. Long hair was easy to grab- and it was a pain to take care of.

Her free hand came up to cup her ribs as she grit her teeth and came after her father with her own wooden sword, slashing at him with it. Each time he only blocked or dodged out of the way. Sometimes if she was lucky and her parry missed, she could move out of the way- but her father was not slow. For such a large man he made fast, his attacks gaining momentum as he went. Even if she was not making any progress in her training, he did not slow down. Most days she went to bed with bruises but she would rather eat rotten porridge than complain about it.

It had taken her over a year to convince him to train her in swordcraft. He had always been against it, saying that the field was no place for a woman. She had then practiced with a stick for a long time, before stealing a sword from her father to use in private. He was not pleased when he found out but she stole it again and again until eventually, he let it pass. This however was just the beginning of her badgering.

She would practice with the boys of their town, befriending them and practicing with them but they were no good. How was she to get better if she was only practicing with people who were bad at it? She needed a soldier- like her father. But still, he would not have any of it. Eventually, she convinced her older brother to practice with her, but he was too soft on her.

In a fit of rage on evening, she had approached her father and asked him again. His negative answer spurred her on to challenge him. Normally, the man was clear headed but after a small victory over a dispute in the kingdom, he had been a little drunk after the celebration. So he accepted. The fight wasn't anything to gawk at, seeming as the girl had easily been defeated even with a half drunken man at the other end of the sword.

The defeat had been crushing. She was however, fully prepared to go back to practicing by herself. The girl was not about to be a sore loser in the eyes of her father. He seemed to understand her determination- or at least acknowledge it was there. So he agreed to train her- but that was its own challagne.

He went hard and relentless on her, unlike how he had been with her older brothers. She had watched them train and it had never been this hard. Throughout the pain of it, she didn't complain. She promised herself that she wouldn't ever complain. When questioned about why he went so hard on her like he did, he would only shrug it off and claim he was the same to her brothers as he was to her. The girl wasn't stupid though. She knew her father well.

He was going so hard for two reasons. The first was to discourage her from going down this path. It was a dangerous path for a woman to go down. Violence wasn't for the women- it was a man's job. The idea of that had always boiled her blood. She wanted to be just as good as they were- just as respected as them. Dresses and gowns were not things she wished to see in her future. The idea of being ladylike gave her a putrid feeling in her gut.

The second reason for him to be as tough as he was, was to benefit her in the future. When you fought someone, you put your life on the line. A man with a sword would not go easy on her just because she was a woman. She was well aware of all the dangers that men proposed to her as a woman. If she were to lose a fight, a lot more would be lost than her life.

The vile thought of men having their way with her made her hit harder against her father, a loud clunk being heard as their wooden swords connected so hard that she felt the hard vibration in its hilt, no doubt bruising her palms. She spun away from her father to adjust her grip, facing him with narrowed eyes through a mess of hair. He rushed her before she could move, and slammed her into the ground.

It took her a moment but she hopped up and didn't waste any time, going for the plunge with her own sword. He easily blocked and kneed her in the chest, sending her stumbling backwards with a grunt. This time he waited for her to approach him, sword out defensively, holding it with two hands.

The girl yelled out as she approached him yet again, bringing with her a large swing that he merely stepped back from. She swung again making him move back and doge some more before eventually he drew his sword up horizontally to block her downward blow like it was nothing. The man was much larger than her- perhaps a foot taller too. He pushed back on her sword with a sudden force that had her flying onto her back on the floor.

She rolled to get up but her father stepped on her sword. "Savarine, I believe we are done." he told her in a stern and gruff tone. But Savarine wasn't done. Not yet. She hadn't learned anything yet. Nothing that she didn't already know at least.

The angry girl let go of her sword and rolled away from her father, hopping up bare handed with her fists up and ready in front of her. "No," She stubbornly said, flicking her head to get some of her hair to move out of her view. "I can still fight." She grunted out. Her chest and ribs ached terribly but she paid it no mind. Savarine had to remind herself that attackers wouldn't stop just because she wasn't feeling good.

Her father sighed and came at her again, swinging his sword full force despite her lack of weaponry. She made a move to duck but it was too late. The blow had already struck her other side. Yelling out, Savarine landed on her knees and clutched her side. Had she broken a rib? It seemed like a plausible possibility but again she repeated to herself that attackers would not stop.

"Sava-"

"Keep going!" She yelled at him as she stood up on weak legs. She remembered back to what he had told her in one of their previous practices. Watch the enemies movements. Predict what they are going to do. You had to stay ahead of enemies- even if they were fast like her father was. One wrong step, one miscalculation and you were a dead man.

Reluctantly, her father kept going, bringing around another slash. She kept eyes on his hands and feet as they moved around in a bit of an awkward circle, both hunched over and ready for an attack. When she saw his feet pivot a bit she readied herself and looked at his eyes for a moment before focusing on his hands. It felt like slow motion as she dropped herself down, effectively ducking under his next swing.

Savarine let out a laugh of relief but her small victory was quickly interrupted by another pain. She hadn't been able to see his foot coming at her from the side with her hair in the way. When it came in contact with her shoulder she found herself going backwards onto her side, smacking the hard floor for another countless time. She rolled up like it was nothing, completely ignoring the pain she was feeling. The adrenaline was helping her out now.

Her father came again and she dodged as best as she could manage, sometimes taking hits but definitely learning how to properly dodge and catch her balance without leaving herself vulnerable. She continued to dance around with her father for a while, also learning to keep herself light on her feet while also being stable. As her confidence gained she finally found an opening she thought she could get a punch through- an aim to the face.

Steading herself, she took the chance, making it swift but just like that her father let go of his sword and caught her wrist before it could reach his face. She let out an irritated noise and swung with her other hand but he blocked it and caught that one too in a tight grip. She growled at him and writhed in his grip, trying to free herself. Her knee came up and smashed into his groin and he yelled out. His head came down to hers, smacking her hard.

Now it was Savarine's turn to yell out in pain. Her father let go of her and she crumpled to her knees, grasping her bleeding nose. "You do not fight with honor," She said to him, trying to stir him up.

He laughed a bright, hearty laugh at her, his deep voice booming across the room as he put up the wooden swords. "And neither do you. Nor do you fight like a lady. I am raising a little monster it would seem."

She laughed at him this time and stood up, gripping her side and cringing as she did. "Like father like daughter," She said with a grin.

He smiled and shook his head. "Is that what they're calling me nowadays? The Monster Ward?" Could have sworn I went by a different nickname..."

"Jaque the Giant," they said in unison.

"Yes, yes, I have heard the story a million times," Savarine said with the roll of her eyes. "Not a very good nickname though, is it?"

His brows widened at the comment. "Is it not? Giants are big and strong!" He defended with the movement of his hands to emphasize. "Have you met a man bigger and stronger than I? Nay, I think not!"

"Yes!" She shot back with a laugh.

Jaque gave her a disbelieving look in response. "Really then?" He said and crossed his arms. "Who might this bigger and stronger giant be, exactly?"

Savarine gave him a challenging look. "That gladiator they have down at the colosseum... what is his name.. Drakos was it?"

Her father snorted at the name. "He is hardly a man at all. A beast that one is."

She laughed at him again, crossing her arms to missor his stature. "So you are not the all mighty Giant you so proclaim to be?" Her arms uncrossed only so that she could stop the flow of blood from her nose with a cringe. It wasn't broken but it sure did bleed a lot.

Jaque gave her one last chuckle before moving to walk past her. "You mock me. You are lucky I like you, girl. Now go get yourself cleaned up and rested. We go again tomorrow and if you are slow you will end up worse off.

"Ahh, what a kind and considerate father you are," She teased back before limping off in the opposite direction of the man. "Not a girl anymore," She muttered to herself as she left the large open training room, leaving it unoccupied behind her.

Savarine walked down the large hallway. The place was lavish beyond compare. Sometimes it was hard to believe that she lived here now. She had not grown up in the capital of Ashmore- Denheim. Rather, she was from Fordorne, a large city near the eastern coast. Her family was not highborn but they were fairly wealthy- this was no epic scheme on their part however. They were an honest family, the Ward's. They specialized in a single trade that for the last hundred and twelve years could not be matched- swordsmanship.

Wealthy families across the continent for a chance to be trained by her father- we gained his skills from his father and so on. The men in her family brought a new meaning to master swordsman. It was a title afforded to her family- something looked highly upon. Though they were not of noble birth or ancestry, they were often treated as such.

So it was no question her father had been invited to the capital to stay in Denheim's very own thousand year old castle. Savarine and two of her brothers had gotten to come along as well. The other two of her siblings were still young and ended up staying in Fordorne with her mother.

She made her way back to her room, glancing at the pictures lining the walls. There were too many to marvel at, for if she did she would spend all day and night looking at the highly detailed things. Savarine enjoyed art, but she was no good at it. She remembered learning how to read and how the poems her tutor had made her write were terrible to listen too. Anything creative that she tried, for that matter, was horrendous to witness.

It seemed that Savarine was just naturally gifted with the sword- or at least that is what she would have liked to think. All the men in her family had been good with the sword, so she could be too, right? Even if this wasn't the case, she would make it so. She would be so good in fact, that she would make men bow at her boots in surrender. Enemies would shake when they heard her name. The thought made her smile.

Savarine stopped at her door, furrowing her brows at the noise she heard from inside her room. She shared a room with one of her two older brothers- the younger one of which was eighteen. She was just two years younger at sixteen. Being a woman, she didn't appreciate having to share a room with a man. According to the maid staff, they hadn't been expecting a lady to arrive as well.

Weren't there tons of rooms in a castle? She had her own room back at home! How could a castle run out of room if it was so large anyway? She still got lost to this day. It had been a month that they'd been here and she was told it would be another month until she got to have her own room. So she normally busied herself so that she wouldn't have to come back here.

Today wasn't one of those days that she could avoid it, unfortunately. Her brother was here too, from the sounds of it- and he wasn't alone. She groaned as she opened the door, covering her eyes as she closed it behind her.

Whatever laughing and moaning that had been present before was now gone with the squeak of a girl. Savarine snorted at this and went over to her wardrobe. "You do know this is my room too, right?" Savarine said in a grim tone.

Her brother groaned in response, pushing off the girl that was scrambling to get off of him. "Can't a man have fun for once?" He shot back. "What are you even doing here? Don't you usually raid the kitchen after you let father humiliate you?"

Savarine rolled her eyes and removed some comfortable clothes from her wardrobe. She turned to give her brother a hard look, but they ended up narrowing in on the naked girl beside him who was pulling the blankets over her exposed body. "The only humiliating thing here is the whore you brought into your bed." She shot back.

He narrowed his eyes now. "She is no whore."

    "Oh? So you two have married then?" She said in a mocked surprised tone.

"No," He said in a tone that indicated the idea was ludicrous.

    She snorted at this and turned to the changing screen, walking behind it to start stripping her bloody and sweaty clothes away. "She is a whore then." She said in a stern tone.

"You better watch your words with me," the naked girl said in a threatening tone, her eyes narrowed to the changing screen that only revealed the blurry shadow of Savarine behind it.

    "And why is that, whore?" She pressed the derogatory name just to tick the girl off more.

    "I will have you know you are addressing the lady Harthborn." She clarified proudly.

    Savarine's brows raised and she peeked her head around the corner with a humorous look on her face. "I had no idea the new Lady Harthborn graced me with her presence. Why, I am just so very honored to meet a woman already committing adultery after barely being married for a week."

    The Harthborn lady scoffed, and got up to dress herself. "If you tell anyone I will only deny it. They would believe a noble lady over an entitled peasant girl any day."

    Savarine continued to dress herself and rolled her eyes. "A very rich peasant girl." She said with a smile.

    "Your wealth is merely pocket change to my family." The girl said, seeming increasingly annoyed.

    Savarine didn't deny it. Her family had money but here in the castle, they didn't look as shiny as they did back in Fordorne. "Oh, I am sure," She said in a mock dismissive tone. "I wonder if your back hurts from carrying all that gold though. You might want to straighten yourself before you walk around like an old hag."

The girl made a noise of offence, looking to the young man of the room. He merely shrugged and gave her an apologetic look. "I cannot believe the gall of some people!" She said as she rushed to the door and slammed it behind herself.

    Savarine laughed as she stepped out from behind the changing screen. She was not wearing a dress but rather loose pants and a shirt commonly worn by men. Her brother gave her a look.

    "Two things," he started with a hand running through his messy black hair. "One, you are far too harsh. You should remember where we are and who you are speaking to. And second," He said with a sigh, throwing up to gesture to her outfit. "We are in the capital, if you are not throwing that stick around then it is best to wear a dress like all the other ladies."

Her brows furrowed at her brothers words. "I will wear whatever I like- and this happens to be more practical- not to mention comfortable. Besides, I am no lady. Our family has no official title- just money and swords."

    "Not yet we don't. Why do you think we are in the capital?"

    "Well I was told father and Eric would be training the king's sons and some of the guards." She said with a shrug. "Are you inferring that the king wants to give our family a title?" She asked in a bemused tone. "Because that's not going to happen. The king doesn't just give out titles to anyone."

    He shook his head. "Think about it, Sav. Are we 'just anyone'?"

    Her brows raised at this, considering the idea before she decided against the thought and shook her head. "No, it can't be. Fordorne already has a lord, and I don't know where else doesn't. We're probably just here for the reason father said we were."

    He groaned and flopped back onto his bed, which was all the way across the large room from her bed. This reminded her about the predicament that she had walked in on. She couldn't wait to change rooms with this pompous ass.

"You should be more careful about who you climb into bed with, Fenir. If her husband catches you two, all hell will break loose. I heard Lord Harthborn is a hot blooded man."

Her brother, Fenir, scoffed at her. "Who I lay with is not any of your concern."

She let out a single laugh, but it was more of a mock than something of humor. "And here I thought you might be growing into a smart young man."

"Oh don't you go and act like that. Do not criticize my choices when you don't even know how to act like a lady."

"Something such as that is not relevant to this-"

"Is it not? You are quite the hypocrite telling me what i should not do when you go and mouth to nobles and parade around as a man. Do you want to be a man or something? Because look at yourself, you are not one and never will be," Fenir said in irritation.

Savarine grit her teeth and looked down at the floor. "That was rude." She pointed out in her own controlled irritation.

"I am sorry- I did not mean-"

"You didn't mean it? Oh no, don't give me that. You meant it, and I'm sure you've thought it plenty times before. Just because we share a bedroom and have grown up together, do not think you know what goes through my head." She bit back. "I do not wish to be a man, but it sure would be a whole devil of a lot easier. I only mean to look out for you, and I do not mind you doing the same but when you insult me to make a point or to move the situation away from yourself, that is where I draw the line." She told him sternly, as if a mother scolding her child.

"You are right. I apologize, I had gone too far." He said, with a loss of words for anything else. It was obvious to tell that he did not enjoy being treated as a child in this situation but he left it alone, not wanting to cause a fit. The two of them used to argue until fists were involved but now that they were nearly adults, the fights had to stop.

Satisfied, Savarine nodded to him once before turning to look at herself in a mirror. She cringed at the dried blood on her face and messy, tangled hair. It was rather humorous that she and looked so terrible whilst insulting a noble girl. Thinking back on what she had said, perhaps she acted too harshly... Savarine tended to have a hot head of her own. She needed to keep in mind to keep her emotions controlled now that they were in the capital.

The girl went and retrieved a rag why her brother changed in the open. She kept her eyes off of him like the plague. The man had no shame, did he? Savarine had nagged him before about using the changing screen but he would not have it. "Such a pain to use" he had said. He was just lazy.

Once she had her rag she wet it in a bowl of water, one that was left in their room for quick washes such as these or any other purpose they might use it for. Now with the wet rag she returned to the mirror she had been gawking at herself in before. She wiped the blood from her face, cringing when she came close to tender areas. Once it was all gone, she ogled her reflection once again. Her nose was red and unhappy, but at least it wasn't broken. She would merely have to deal with an unsightly bruise later.

Injuries such as these weren't fit for court. She could not hide these from prying eyes so she would have to stay away from the events for a while. Her father would not be pleased but he was the one to cause this so he had nothing to say on the matter. Besides, the last thing their family needed was the talk of an abusive father spreading around the ballroom. Nobles had to be very bored to talk about gossip as much as they did.

She was rather pleased about this outcome, however. The court was rather boring and why she did enjoy her fair share of drama and gossip, she did not enjoy it when it was the only thing people wished to talk about- that or business which was another thing she was not interested in. The best possible outcome out of all of this though, was that she would not have to put on one of those tight and heavy ballroom dresses. Not only would her ribs detest it, so would her lungs.

With a satisfied smile that made her face ache all the more, she grabbed a book and crawled onto her bed, getting ready to lose herself in a good old fashioned fantasy book. Perhaps it was a romance to boot- but she would never tell. She didn't need more reason for men to call her a little girl.

And as if on cue, her brother spoke up with that big head of his. "Is that another romance?" He said in a teasing accusatory tone. One he knew she did not appreciate.

She rolled her eyes and looked up at him from her book. "What it is, is none of your concern." She deadpanned.

"Whatever you say, dearest sister," He said in a sickly sweet tone.