A test of resolve

The courtyard was thick with tension as the recruits stood in disciplined rows. The morning air carried the crisp scent of steel, sweat, and damp earth—a reminder of the grueling drills ahead. Damien stood before them, his sharp gaze surveying the group with an unreadable expression. His presence alone was enough to silence even the most restless recruits.

Valen stepped forward, his arms crossed. "Today's training will push your endurance and discipline. You'll be sparring in pairs, but under strict conditions. You're not just testing your strength—you're testing your control. One mistake could cost you in battle."

The recruits stiffened. This wasn't going to be an ordinary sparring match.

Elara kept her stance firm, eyes ahead. She had no intention of letting her thoughts wander. Every day was another step toward proving herself, and she couldn't afford to falter.

"Elijah," Valen called, and she stepped forward instinctively.

She expected to be paired with another recruit, but instead, Valen's eyes flickered toward Keshav.

The reserved knight stepped forward. His sharp, calculating gaze met hers, and for the first time, she felt something strange—a sense of being truly assessed. Keshav rarely interacted with the recruits, and now she understood why. He was a shadow, an observer, much like Damien. But unlike Damien, Keshav lacked any visible flicker of irritation or expectation.

Just pure, quiet scrutiny.

"This should be interesting," Rhys muttered from the side, smirking.

Elara ignored him, shifting into position. The murmurs from the other recruits faded as Keshav drew his sword.

"Begin," Valen ordered.

Elara barely had time to react before Keshav struck. His speed was unsettling—controlled but precise. She moved to block, but his blade shifted at the last second, redirecting itself with an effortless flick. Her defense nearly failed, and she had to pivot to avoid the impact.

She expected him to press the attack, but he didn't. Instead, he pulled back slightly, waiting.

Testing.

He was studying him.

Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword. If he was going to see what she was capable of, then she'd show him.

She launched forward, her blade aiming low before twisting upward in a feint. Keshav sidestepped with an ease that made her grit her teeth. It was like trying to strike at smoke.

The watching recruits were silent.

Damien observed from his usual position, arms crossed. "Too slow," he remarked, more to himself than anyone else.

Elara didn't have time to be frustrated. Keshav's next move forced her fully onto the defensive. His footwork was impeccable, his strikes controlled yet forceful. Every swing carried an effortless sharpness that made it clear why he was Damien's right-hand man.

But despite the gap in skill, she refused to back down.

She adjusted, tightening her movements, meeting his strikes with renewed determination. Keshav's expression didn't change, but something shifted in his stance.

Acknowledgment.

Then, with the same eerie fluidity, he ended the match. His blade stopped inches from her throat before he stepped back and sheathed his weapon.

Silence.

Then Valen spoke. "A decent effort, but not enough."

Elara exhaled, gripping her sword tightly as she stepped back.

Keshav studied her one last time before turning to Damien.

"he's persistent," he said simply.

Elara wasn't sure if that was a compliment or an observation, but something about it made Damien's gaze linger on her for a second longer than usual.

Then, just like that, the moment passed.

"Next," Valen called, moving on.

As Elara walked back to her spot, Rhys leaned in with a smirk. "Not bad, Elijah. You almost lasted longer than I expected."

"Shut up, Rhys," she muttered, rolling her shoulders as she prepared for the next drill.

From the sidelines, Keshav remained unreadable, but his sharp eyes didn't miss the way Damien's gaze flickered toward Elara once more before returning to the training.

Something was shifting.