The clashing of blades as one parried off of the other. In response, wide, green eyes looked on in amazent, knowing she wasn't supposed to be there in the first place.
"You bastard!"
Irene flinched at the shouting, hoping they didn't spot her.
"You were the one who wanted to practice with real blades, mother!"
Irene fell backwards with her hands over her mouth. She was told by her father not to say that word but whenever he sparred with his mother he didn't seem to have any issue.
A rustling of the long grass they were hiding behind alerted Irene to Arne. She had been getting lost in the sword fighting. She knew he was about to blow their cover and she jumped up to grab him.
She had been on her best behavior for days after the incident in the forest and he was going to ruin it for her.
Unfortunately, she was too late to catch her brother and she knew her streak of good behavior was over.
"Bastard! Bastard!" Arne cried in delight.
He sprinted forward towards his father and grandmother. Since there was no hope in hiding any longer, Irene sprinted forward as well.
Her wavy red hair flapped behind her like a cape as she sprinted forward and she had to hold her skirts so they wouldn't drag in the grass and dirt. Lifting her skirts revealed thick pants underneath and sturdy boots. Despite what her finely crafted dress may say about her, her true personality was just underneath the surface.
She already knew her mother must be watching from one of the windows of the large manor. The displeasure on her face was easy to imagine considering it was a look Irene often received.
At that mont, she put it in the back of her thoughts as she saw her father looking on in surprise.
"Don't say that, Arne!" he shouted and accepted the hug of his eight year old son jumping towards him.
Instead of going to her father, Irene happily ran to her grandmother who had pale red hair down to her waist, braided back so it wouldn't get in her way. As she opened her arms for her granddaughter, there was the flash of an aged tattoo on her shoulder revealed as her tunic beca misplaced. She had been losing a lot of weight those days.
The old woman tucked the handle of the sharp axe she used into the loop on her belt. Since she didn't intend to use it with children around, she pressed her wooden sheathe over the blade so that no one was at risk of getting cut by the well-taken-care-of weapon.
"Why do you like practicing with real swords, gran?" Irene asked quietly, her eyes still full of the sa amazent from before as she morized each one of her grandmother's movents. "Father says it dulls the blades, doesn't it?"
"The Sünstro are taught to forge their own weapons," Kara explained. She then turned towards Irene's father and narrowed her old eyes at him. "Perhaps your ti as a knight dulled your understanding of your own flesh and blood."
"Using wooden swords for practice doesn't make you any less of a fighter," Arthur argued.
Irene looked up at her father and then glanced at her grandmother. She looked up to both of them equally. Considering they were very grounded in their beliefs, she wasn't entirely sure who she wanted to follow. It was sothing she would have to revisit later.
For now, she liked holding a sword better than a carved piece of wood. She took her grandmother's side because she was deprived of sword fighting.
"You're filling the girl's head with ridiculous thoughts," Arthur muttered. "I can already tell. Let's return to the house. It's nearly ti for supper and I imagine you haven't completed all of your studies today as you said you would."
Arthur's faintly brown eyes turned towards his daughter and she glanced away nervously.
It wasn't entirely her idea to sneak out of the house when the tutor wasn't there, but when she saw her brother slipping out of the small library, she couldn't resist. The sound of tal against tal had already been too much of her. Even if it wasn't becoming of a young lady, the blood of a warrior rushed through her veins no matter what.
"But–"
Arthur shot his daughter such a stern gaze that the words she even wanted to say were imdiately forgotten. It wasn't as if this was the first ti she had rebelled against studying.
When they were all finally inside of the large ho situated in large grassy plains with mountains in the distance, Arthur made his children wash their hands so they could sit at the table and wait for their als. However, he stopped Irene before she could make it far.
"A word, my sweet girl," he said to her, pretending she was sothing fragile even though she wanted to be anything but.
Irene barely ca up to her father's stomach but she still gazed up at him with a determined expression as if she weren't a pebble against a mountain.
"Yes, father?" she asked.
"Did you know that even knights must study?" he asked her. "To beco a knight is to rise in status based on rit and not bloodline. You must know reading, history, and writing to even have a fighting chance in the realm of knights."
"Why are you telling this, father?" Irene asked, resisting his words even though it was extrely relevant to her ditching studies that day.
"No reason, my sweet girl," he responded evenly, though his eyes were wrinkled as he smiled down at her.
In his eyes, she was unbelievably transparent.
As the family sat down and Rochelle ca out with food enough for the whole family, there was a frantic knock at the door.
A maid was the one to open the door so the family could enjoy their al even though all of them had stopped when the knock was heard.
A young knight ca into the small dining hall, holding his helt in his arm.
"Sir Arthur," he said. "There are goblins at the southern edge. His Grace says co at once."
Considering the man constantly had his weapon strapped to his brown leather belt, it was no surprise he was summoned at random tis to lay his sword down for the duchy.
"I will be back," he said to his family as he stood up.
Before he left, he grabbed one of the warm rolls his wife had baked that day. He would go to the building beside the practice yard where he kept his armor.
"Be careful," Rochelle said, angling her head away from her husband.
Despite her ignoring him, he still leaned down to kiss her temple. Even if she was irritated by his life as a knight, she was the one who married him at the height of his career. She knew what she was getting into.
Arne and Irene both watched their father mount his horse that had been taken out of the stables for him. He soon rode off with the few knights there to gather him, his armor glistening in the evening sun.
The al was forgotten as the two red headed children turned around in their seats and marveled at the situation unfolding out of the window.
"I want to be a knight," they both said in unison.
"But I'll be the greatest!" Irene exclaid.
"No, I will!"
"Children, eat the wonderful al your mother has provided you," Kara told the kids. "To be a knight you must eat enough to be big and strong."
Irene took it to heart as she spooned so of the thick broth from the stew into her mouth.
However, what was supposed to be a few hours of work for Arthur turned into over a day. The children were even less focused as they waited for their father.
On the third day of his absence, another knight appeared at the doorstep. He was closer to Arthur's age than the last one. He seed much more somber than the last as well.
Irene heard the words "fire", "cave in", "trapped" and the world as she knew it felt like it crumbled down around her.
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