8

The scent of salt and fish hung heavy in the air as the carriage rattled into the bustling port town. Two weeks had passed since the… incident, and Julian’s backside had mostly healed, though a lingering sensitivity remained as a constant reminder. The town was a chaotic tapestry of sights and sounds: sailors shouting, merchants hawking their wares, the creak of ropes and the cries of gulls overhead. The harbor was teeming with ships of all sizes, their masts swaying gently in the breeze. Thaline, ever the pragmatist, immediately began making inquiries about passage on a ship bound for the capital. She spoke with a gruff-looking ship captain, bargaining over the fare with a steely gaze and a commanding tone. Julian, trailing behind her, felt a sense of cautious optimism. A ship journey would be far faster than continuing by land, and perhaps a change of scenery would do him and his bottom some good.

"The ship is infused with magic circles. We should reach the capital in 4 days time thanks to it."

Thaline informed her nephew nonchalantly.

Julian’s eyes widened slightly at Thaline’s nonchalant announcement.

“Magic circles?”

He echoed, intrigued. He’d heard tales of magically enhanced ships, capable of traversing vast distances in a fraction of the time, but he’d never imagined actually stepping foot on one. Thaline merely raised an eyebrow, as if his surprise was entirely unwarranted.

“Indeed.”

She replied, her voice devoid of emotion.

“The captain has invested in a series of runic enchantments that accelerate the vessel’s speed and ensure a smooth voyage. As I've mentioned, we should reach the capital in four days’ time, barring any unforeseen circumstances.”

She gestured towards a sleek, black-hulled ship with intricate silver markings etched along its sides.

“That will be our transport. Try not to cause any trouble, Julian. The captain is a stickler for order.”

She began to ascend the gangplank...

~

The ship sliced through the waves with an unsettling grace, the magically-enhanced hull seemingly gliding across the water. However, the voyage was proving less idyllic for Thaline than Julian might have hoped. Within an hour of setting sail, a subtle pallor had crept over her complexion, and a distinct tightness had settled around her jaw. She’d become increasingly irritable, snapping at the crew over minor inconveniences and retreating to the cabin they’d been assigned below deck with alarming frequency. Julian caught glimpses of her through the cabin door – pale, clammy, and looking thoroughly miserable. It was a side of his aunt he’d never seen before. The stoic, unflappable Captain of the Royal Dragoons was, it seemed, utterly defeated by the whims of the sea. A small, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at Julian’s lips. Perhaps this journey wouldn’t be so bad now that his aunt was incapacitated. With that thought in mind, he ascended to the top of the ship deck.

The upper deck was a welcome respite from the stuffy confines of the cabin. Julian leaned against the railing, breathing in the invigorating sea air, a genuine smile gracing his lips. The rhythmic creak of the ship and the cries of the gulls overhead were a soothing balm to his senses. His moment of tranquility, however, was abruptly interrupted. A large shadow fell over him, and he looked up to find himself dwarfed by a towering figure. The ship’s captain was a vision of sun-kissed beauty, her skin glowing with a warm bronze hue. A cascade of fiery red hair tumbled down her back, framing a face that was both striking and playful. Her eyes, a captivating shade of cherry amber, sparkled with amusement as she regarded him. She radiated an aura of confidence and strength, a woman clearly in command of her vessel and comfortable in her own skin.

"You're the captain... right?"

Julian asked somewhat sheepishly.

A booming laugh erupted from the captain, rich and melodic, echoing across the deck.

“Indeed, I am.”

She replied, her cherry amber eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Captain Isolde Loven. And you must be young Master Wolflace, this Captain’s… charge.”

She said the last word with a playful emphasis and a flirtatious wink, glancing towards the cabin with a knowing smirk.

“I’ve heard tales of your aunt’s… aversion to the sea. It seems the ocean does not take kindly to those who try to control it. She's a goddess of blue, unrelenting and unforgiving but ever bountiful.”

Isolde murmured softly. The ship captain's gaze returned to Julian, her expression softening. She leaned against the railing beside him, her height still making him feel rather small.

“Don’t mind her, lad. She'll be right as rain once we make port. Though...”

She added with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“I suspect she’ll be even less inclined to set foot on a ship again in the near future after this voyage.”

She paused, studying him with a curious gaze.

“You, however, seem to be enjoying the journey. Most children your age would be clinging to their mother's breast, or causing mischief below deck. You have a quiet sort of strength about you, wee Wolflace. Unusual for one so young.”

Julian instinctively flinched at the unexpected touch. Isolde’s hand, adorned with an array of colorful bangles that jingled softly with her movements, descended upon his head, her thumb rubbing circles into his stubbled, regrowing hair. The gesture was meant to be affectionate, perhaps, but it felt… patronizing. He cringed, his shoulders hunching forward in discomfort. He wasn't a pet to be coddled. He was… something more, though he couldn't quite articulate what that 'more' was.

"I'll be a man soon enough."

He muttered under his breath.

Isolde’s hand stilled momentarily, then resumed its gentle rubbing, though with a slightly lessened pressure. A warm chuckle rumbled in her chest.

"Well when you properly are a man, I'll save room just for you."

Isolde winked, affectionately rubbing his ear before sauntering off. Julian’s cheeks flushed crimson as Isolde’s playful words hung in the air. The affectionate rub of his ear sent a shiver down his spine, and he quickly averted his gaze, focusing on the endless expanse of the ocean. He hadn’t anticipated 'that' response. His first crush, in a new world, on a woman who could likely bench press him twice over. The realization was both exhilarating and deeply exciting.

The remaining days aboard the magically-propelled vessel blurred into a whirlwind of new experiences for Julian. Captain Isolde, surprisingly, took a genuine interest in the boy, recognizing a spark of intelligence and resilience beneath his reserved exterior. She didn’t treat him like a child, but as a fledgling apprentice, eager to learn. He spent hours on the upper deck, absorbing her knowledge of navigation, the stars, and the subtle art of reading the sea. She taught him basic knot-tying, how to identify different types of ships on the horizon, and even a smattering of seafaring slang...

~

As the capital’s shores finally came into view, a sprawling cityscape of white stone and towering spires rising from the coastline, Isolde turned to Julian, her expression unusually serious. She knelt before him, her cherry amber eyes locking with his.

“For you, little bird.”

She murmured, her voice a low rumble that resonated with warmth and a hint of sadness.

“Spread your wings and fly free, understand?”

Before Julian could respond, Isolde swiftly and expertly pierced his left earlobe. A sharp sting shot through him, momentarily stealing his breath, but it was fleeting. Almost instantly, a tiny droplet of shimmering, emerald-green potion was applied to the wound, and the pain vanished, leaving behind only a faint warmth. She’d placed a glittering earring in the newly made hole – a small, silver feather intricately crafted with tiny gemstones that caught the light with every movement.

Julian’s fingers instinctively rose to trace the delicate silver feather adorning his ear, his eyes wide with awe. It was a beautiful gift, a tangible reminder of his time with the captivating captain. He opened his mouth to offer a heartfelt thank you, but the words died in his throat. Before he could utter a sound, Isolde leaned down, her movements fluid and graceful despite her size. Her plump, soft lips brushed against his cheek in a swift, unexpected farewell kiss. A wave of heat rushed through Julian, his face flushing a deep crimson. It was a chaste gesture, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through his veins, leaving him breathless and utterly flustered.

"Come find me when you're a man."

Isolde grinned and stood up, rubbing his head lightly. Her bangles jingled together at the movements. Her grin widened, revealing a flash of pearly white teeth. Her eyes sparkled with playful anticipation as she delivered the parting words, her voice a low, husky murmur that sent another shiver down Julian's spine.

Isolde stood, her towering form casting a momentary shadow over Julian. She gave his head a final, gentle rub, her bangles jingling a merry tune with the movement. Then, with a final wink and a wave, she turned and strode towards the ship’s railing, barking orders to her crew as they prepared to dock. Julian watched her go, his hand still instinctively touching the silver feather earring. He felt a strange mix of emotions swirling within him – excitement, anticipation, and a newfound determination. He 'would' find her, he vowed silently. He would become the man she expected him to be, and then, he would return. The thought fueled a burning resolve within him, a promise whispered to the sea and the wind.

~

The moment the ship’s gangplank lowered, a firm hand gripped the back of Julian’s neck, and he was unceremoniously steered off the vessel. It was Thaline, her expression as stoic and unyielding as ever. She didn’t offer a greeting, a smile, or even a word of acknowledgment regarding his obvious internal turmoil.

“Get a move on, kid.”

She murmured, her grip surprisingly strong as she guided him towards the bustling docks, still a little pale in the face from the voyage. The capital was a sensory overload - a cacophony of sounds, a kaleidoscope of colours, and a pungent mix of smells that assaulted Julian’s senses. Merchants hawked their wares, sailors shouted orders, and the air thrummed with the energy of a thriving metropolis. Thaline moved through the crowd with purpose, her presence commanding respect and creating a path for them. She didn’t bother with pleasantries or explanations, simply leading Julian towards a teleportation circle.

As soon as their feet touched the intricate runes of the teleportation circle, it sprang to life. A vibrant, azure light erupted from the glyphs, swirling around them like a miniature vortex. The energy crackled in the air, drawing power directly from Thaline’s substantial mana reserves. A momentary disorientation washed over Julian as the world dissolved into a blur of colors and sensations. Then, just as suddenly, it solidified once more. They stood within an identical circle, but the surroundings were drastically different. They were no longer on the bustling docks, but within a hidden base of operations for the Royal Dragoons, a sprawling complex carved into the heart of a secluded mountain. The air here was cool and sterile, devoid of the chaotic energy of the city. Polished stone walls lined the corridors, and the faint hum of magical wards resonated throughout the facility.

Thaline didn’t waste a moment adjusting to their new surroundings. She turned sharply, her voice ringing with authority as she addressed her all-female squad of dragoons. They were a formidable sight – ten exceptionally strong women, each radiating an aura of confidence and combat prowess. Their armor gleamed under the artificial light, and their weapons were meticulously maintained. They snapped to attention, their eyes focused on their captain with unwavering loyalty.

“Girls!”

Thaline barked, her voice echoing through the stone corridors.

“New recruit. Put him through the wringer. I have many errands to catch up on.”

A predatory gleam entered her eyes as she surveyed Julian, assessing his small frame with a detached curiosity.

“I want to see what he’s made of. Physical conditioning, basic combat training, magical aptitude… everything. Don’t hold back.”

She paused, her gaze sweeping over her dragoons.

“Report directly to me any… unusual findings.”

A subtle emphasis on the word 'unusual' hung in the air. With a final, curt nod, she turned on her heel and strode away, her boots clicking sharply against the stone floor. The dragoons, without a word, immediately turned their attention to Julian, their expressions ranging from professional assessment to barely concealed amusement...

A wave of apprehension washed over Julian as Thaline’s orders echoed over her squad. His body instinctively stiffened, his small frame bracing for the ordeal to come. Training with the Royal Dragoons sounded…intense. And if these women were anything like his mother, Kuina, a retired S-Ranked Adventurer, he was in for a grueling, possibly painful, experience. He remembered countless hours of rigorous training, the sting of bruises, and the relentless push to exceed his limits. A shiver ran down his spine. This wasn’t going to be a gentle introduction to the capital life. It was going to be a trial by fire. He glanced at the ten dragoons, their imposing figures looming over him, and a sense of dread settled in his stomach. He was woefully outmatched, both in size and experience...

A small mercy, at least. Thaline, despite her harsh demeanor, allowed him a night to rest before the training commenced. He was led to one of the squad rooms, a surprisingly spacious chamber designed to accommodate the dragoons. However, the comfort was overshadowed by the realization of *who* he would be sharing it with. Five female dragoons. The room was sparsely decorated, functional rather than inviting, with rows of neatly made bunks lining the walls. The air smelled of steel, leather, and a faint hint of floral perfume. As he was assigned a bunk nestled between two larger, more imposing figures, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. The dragoons barely acknowledged his presence, continuing their quiet conversations and equipment maintenance as if he were just another piece of furniture. Their gazes, however, flickered over him occasionally, assessing and drinking in the commanders nephew.

~

Sleep offered little respite. Julian tossed and turned, plagued by anxieties about the coming days and the unsettling presence of his roommates. He dreamt of swirling azure flames, Isolde's captivating smile, and the stern gaze of Thaline. Just as he began to drift into a slightly more peaceful slumber, a harsh voice shattered the silence.

“Wake up, boy!”

A stern voice barked, cutting through the dim pre-dawn light. One of the dragoons, a woman named Sigrid with a severe expression and tightly braided platinum blonde hair, stood over his bunk, her hands on her wide hips.

"No time for sleeping in. Dragoons don't abide by leisurely mornings."

A muffled groan escaped from beneath the thin blanket as Julian attempted to burrow deeper into his bunk, clinging to the last vestiges of sleep. It was a futile gesture, of course. Sigrid wasn’t one to be deterred by childish protests. She snatched the blanket away with a swift, efficient movement, revealing a disgruntled Julian squinting against the faint light.

Instinctively, Julian curled into a tight fetal position, attempting to trap any lingering warmth within his small frame. The chill of the hard lower bunk seeped through his thin pajamas, and the loss of the blanket felt like a personal affront. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that if he ignored the situation long enough, it would simply disappear. He was, after all, still a child, despite the strange memories and impulses that sometimes plagued him. The thought of facing a grueling run with these imposing women before the sun even rose was utterly unappealing. He wished, not for the first time, that he was back on the farm, safe and warm in his own bed.

Before Julian could fully succumb to his desire to remain hidden, a chilling splash jolted him awake. Sigrid had returned, and she wasn’t offering comfort. A basin of ice-cold water cascaded over his shaved head, instantly stealing his breath and sending shivers wracking through his body. He gasped, sputtering and flailing as the frigid water soaked his bed and clothes. It was a brutal awakening, designed to obliterate any lingering sleepiness and instill a sense of immediate compliance. Sigrid stood over him, her expression unyielding.

“No time for weakness, boy. Dragoons are forged in hardship. Now 'get up' before I have cause to relay your impertinent behaviour to the commander.”

Julian shot upright, sputtering and shivering, droplets of icy water clinging to his eyelashes and running down his face. The shock of the cold had effectively obliterated any remaining drowsiness, replaced by a primal urge to escape the immediate discomfort. He instinctively reached for a towel, but found none within reach. His gaze darted around the room, meeting the impassive stares of the other dragoons, who seemed utterly unfazed by Sigrid’s methods. A flush of indignation rose in his cheeks, but he quickly suppressed it. Arguing with Sigrid – or any of these women, for that matter – seemed like a losing battle.

A wave of mortification washed over Julian as he realized the extent of his predicament. The icy water had thoroughly soaked his pajamas, rendering the thin fabric almost transparent. A quick glance down confirmed his worst fears – his small form was alarmingly exposed. It took a moment for the soft giggles emanating from the other dragoons to register, and when it did, his face erupted in a furious blush. A deep, burning shame consumed him as the realization dawned: they were laughing *at* him. He instinctively clamped his hands over his crotch, attempting to restore some semblance of modesty, but the wet material clung uncomfortably to his skin. The pink hue spreading across his cheeks deepened into a vibrant crimson, and he struggled to meet the amused gazes of the dragoons. It was a level of humiliation he hadn’t experienced before, and it left him feeling utterly ****...

With clumsy, hurried movements, Julian fumbled with the provided uniform. The camouflage pants were slightly too large, bunching awkwardly at his waist, and the plain white t-shirt felt rough against his still-chilled skin. He tugged on the socks, then wrestled his feet into the heavy boots, grateful for any layer of protection against the cold stone floor. Once dressed, he quickly joined the line of dragoons, attempting to blend in despite his obvious discomfort. His face and ears continued to burn with lingering embarrassment, and he kept his gaze fixed firmly on the ground, avoiding eye contact with anyone. The other dragoons, thankfully, seemed to have lost interest in his misfortune, their attention focused on the upcoming run. The air crackled with a tense energy, a silent acknowledgment of the grueling exercise ahead. Thaline was nowhere to be seen, likely swamped with work as the head commander of the squad.

A sharp command cut through the morning air.

“Onward!”

Sigrid barked, initiating the warm-up. The dragoons, including a visibly flustered Julian, began a light jog, their boots pounding rhythmically against the cobblestone streets. The pace was deceptively easy at first, allowing Julian to slowly regain some composure as they moved. The route took them towards the Academy of Ad Laera, a sprawling complex of ancient stone buildings and towering spires. As they neared the academy, Julian caught glimpses of students still rubbing the sleep from their eyes, their faces a mixture of curiosity and annoyance at being disturbed so early. A few of the magical students offered curious glances at the dragoons, but most quickly averted their gaze, respecting the soldiers’ disciplined formation. The air around the academy thrummed with subtle magical energy, a palpable contrast to the rigid order amongst the squad.

The dragoons reached the Academy’s training grounds, a vast expanse of manicured grass and obstacle courses. Sigrid’s voice, sharp and commanding, echoed across the grounds.

“Fall in!”

The dragoons snapped to attention, forming a precise line with practiced ease. Julian, still slightly clumsy, struggled to align himself perfectly, but managed to avoid any overt reprimands. Sigrid’s gaze swept over the formation, assessing their posture and readiness.

“As per usual...”

Captain Sigrid continued, her voice ringing with authority.

“...we’ll be training the willing participants at the academy. Do not take these students lightly. As you easily have come to learn these last few weeks, they will not pull their punches.”

Julian’s attention drifted as Sigrid continued outlining the day’s training schedule. The captain’s words faded into a dull drone, overshadowed by the persistent gnawing in his stomach and the lingering chill from the icy awakening. He blinked slowly, fighting to stay awake, his eyelids feeling heavy. The thought of breakfast consumed his mind – a warm bowl of porridge, perhaps, or some crusty bread with jam. Anything to quell the emptiness that had settled within him. He absently rubbed his stomach, hoping to coax it into silence. He noticed a few of the academy students beginning to gather, watching them with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. A young man with bright blue hair nervously adjusted his spectacles, while a woman with intricate braids seemed to be assessing their strengths and weaknesses with a calculating gaze. Julian wondered if any of them would be as intimidating in a sparring match as Thaline.

Just as Julian was about to succumb to his fatigue and lower his gaze, his eyes locked onto a familiar pair of piercing blue eyes. Eira. She stood amongst the academy students, her expression unreadable, yet somehow…intense. A shiver ran down Julian’s spine, a sense of unease settling in his stomach. It wasn’t a friendly gaze. It felt… scrutinizing.

A wave of heat rushed to Julian’s face as a thought, unbidden and undeniably inappropriate, surfaced in his mind.

‘Damn sis… you leave home for two years and already have boobs coming in…’

He quickly averted his gaze, his cheeks burning with shame and a strange, unfamiliar heat. He hadn't meant to think it, but the change in Eira was… startling. She’d always been a tomboy, preferring baggy farm clothes and dirt to dresses, but the years at the Academy had clearly brought about a transformation. He risked another glance, quickly scanning her form. She’d grown taller, more slender, and the childish curves he remembered were now replaced with the beginnings of a woman’s figure. He hastily focused on her face, trying to ignore the rest. Her expression remained cold, her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't seem pleased to see him. Did she still hate him for being born that much?

Eira's expressionless facade barely concealed her amusement. If not for the need to maintain her composure within the Academy, she would have openly burst into laughter at the sight of her brother’s predicament. Her glowing, ethereal wings fluttered with excitement as her bright blue gaze remained fixed solely on Julian. A subtle, almost predatory glint sparkled in her eyes.

“May I have the honor to challenge him?”

Eira asked, her voice surprisingly formal compared to the playful banter they shared growing up on the farm. The request hung in the air, causing a ripple of surprised murmurs to run through the assembled dragoons and academy students. Captain Sigrid’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but a flicker of intrigue crossed her features. She turned her gaze to Julian, assessing his reaction. He looked… flustered. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes darted between Eira and the ground, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden attention, and the implication of a challenge from his own sister. The other academy students were openly staring now, their curiosity piqued by the unexpected turn of events. A few snickers could be heard, quickly stifled by stern glares from their instructors. The air crackled with anticipation. It was an unusual request but Captain Sigrid would definitely allow it.

“I refuse...”

Julian muttered, his voice barely audible above the expectant silence. He kept his gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to meet Eira’s challenging stare. His jaw clenched, and his fists tightened at his sides. It wasn’t just the embarrassment of being publicly called out by his sister that fueled his defiance. There was something else, a prickling sensation at the back of his neck, a feeling that Eira’s challenge wasn’t simply about a friendly spar. It felt… deliberate. Testing. He didn’t want to fight her, not in front of everyone, not when he still felt so weak and ****. He could feel Captain Sigrid’s gaze boring into him, assessing his resolve. He braced himself for a reprimand, but it didn’t come. Instead, a soft chuckle echoed from Eira, almost like she expected him to weakly chicken out anyways.

Eira’s chuckle was light and airy, yet it carried a distinct edge of mockery. It wasn’t a cruel sound, but it was undeniably condescending.

“Oh? Refuse?”

She echoed, tilting her head slightly. Her wings fluttered again, the movement almost hypnotic.

“Is little brother afraid he’ll get hurt?”

She asked, her voice laced with amusement. The question, though seemingly playful, landed like a slap. Julian’s face burned with humiliation. He could feel the eyes of everyone present on him, judging his cowardice. Captain Sigrid remained silent, observing the exchange with a keen interest. She didn’t seem concerned about Julian’s refusal, but rather intrigued by Eira’s reaction and the dynamic between the siblings. A few of the academy students began to whisper amongst themselves, speculating about whether he was really Eira's brother or not. Most they had all ever heard was that she had a beautiful baby sister back home named Sage.

Eira gracefully sat herself upon the wooden railing, her posture radiating confidence and a subtle air of superiority. Her grimoire remained securely holstered at her side, a silent testament to her magical prowess. She turned her gaze towards Captain Sigrid, a hint of impatience flickering in her blue eyes. It was clear she wasn’t simply seeking permission; she was issuing a challenge to the authority of the training session.

“With your permission."

Eira asked, her voice clear and resonant.

“Can I spar him, or someone else that’s willing to engage?”

She doubled down, her request echoing across the training field. The excitement radiating from her was palpable, a vibrant energy that seemed to electrify the air. It was obvious she needed an outlet for her pent-up energy, and she clearly preferred Julian as her initial target. Captain Sigrid’s expression remained impassive, but a flicker of amusement danced in her pale green eyes. She studied Eira for a moment, assessing her determination and the subtle challenge woven into her request.

"Very well."

Sigrid finally said, her voice cutting through the silence.

"Ms. Wolflace, you may have an opponent. But understand, this is a training exercise. Do try to hold back this time."

She then turned her gaze towards the assembled Dragoons, circling them slowly before jabbing her foot into Julian's lower back, pushing him into the sparring pit.

Julian stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his own feet as Captain Sigrid’s unexpected nudge sent him sprawling into the center of the training pit. A chorus of snickers erupted from the assembled Dragoons and academy students. He scrambled to regain his footing, his face burning with shame and indignation. He shot a glare at Captain Sigrid, who simply raised an eyebrow in response, her expression unreadable. He then turned his gaze towards Eira, who was watching him with an unsettlingly calm expression. Her blue eyes glinted with a mixture of amusement and anticipation.

“Nature’s staff, come to thee.”

Eira commanded, her voice ringing with authority. Her grimoire sprung open in mid-air, its pages fluttering rapidly as glowing script materialized, illuminating the training field with an ethereal light. With a graceful beat of her wings, she glided down from the railing, landing lightly on the soft earth near the edge of the sparring pit. Her hand flickered, and roots erupted from the ground, spiraling upwards to form a sturdy pole. The pole lengthened, stretching towards the sky, and a greenish flame began to dance around a bright essence core at its tip. The flames coalesced, taking shape around the core and forming a wicked-looking blade, giving the staff the appearance of a magical scythe.

“Two years, let’s show what we’ve learned, little brother.”

Eira said, a playful yet challenging lilt to her voice. She gripped the staff firmly, the flaming blade radiating warmth and power. The weapon seemed to hum in her hands, responding to her will. Her stance was perfect, balanced and poised, years of training evident in every line of her body. She didn't move to attack immediately, instead choosing to study Julian, assessing his readiness.

Julian stood silently for a few moments, his brow furrowed in concentration as his thoughts raced. A dull ache pulsed in his skull, a familiar sensation whenever his magical energy surged. He knew Eira thrived on magic, it was her natural domain. But he wasn't defenseless. His hand moved to his hip, where the sheathed blade his aunt Thaline had purchased for him now rested. He unsheathed it slowly, the steel gleaming in the sunlight. A subtle shift occurred within him, a quiet snapping of resolve. He might be younger, but he possessed a potent magical affinity, and he’d spent the last two years honing his swordsmanship. The blade felt natural in his grip, an extension of his own will. He raised it, adopting a defensive stance, his eyes locking onto Eira’s. A flicker of azure flames danced around the blade before erupting in a startling blaze.

"Honestly sister... eat shit..."

He shrugged nonchalanty goading her.

“Finally, some backbone."

Eira responded, a genuine grin spreading across her face. It wasn't a mocking smile, but one of genuine respect. She hadn't chosen Julian as an opponent solely to tease him; the raw power radiating from his aura was a compelling challenge. Holding back? There was no need for that now. She lunged forward, her movements precise and surprisingly swift, like a fairy dancing on the wind. Unlike before, she didn’t rely solely on her wings for mobility, instead utilizing a series of agile steps and graceful dodges. Her flaming scythe swept through the air, aimed at Julian’s blade. The weapons clashed violently, sending sparks flying and creating a resounding boom that echoed across the training field. The impact sent a tremor through Julian’s arm, testing his strength and resolve.

Julian remained eerily calm, his green eyes piercing into Eira’s azure blues, a slightly unsettling smile playing on his lips. He seemed to relish the intensity of the duel, the challenge igniting something within him.

“Look who’s not so flat chested anymore."

He murmured, his voice low and deliberately provocative, meant for Eira’s ears alone. A flicker of annoyance crossed her features, but it was quickly masked by a renewed determination. He used the momentary distraction to his advantage, leaping back with surprising agility and disconnecting his blade from her scythe. He smirked broadly, savoring her reaction. It was a brother's duty to pick on his bratty older sister.

“Do not tell me you’re distracted by them. They are the first things your eyes stared at. Little pervert.”

Eira retorted, her voice a hushed whisper laced with playful accusation. A proud glint shone in her eyes, acknowledging her own growth over the years. She spun the scythe next to herself, a whirlwind of motion, until the essence flame at its tip vanished, leaving only the polished wood of the staff. Winds began to whip wildly around her, responding to her will, swirling and intensifying with each rotation.

“Just like how father stared at momma. Winds fury.”

She muttered, her voice barely audible above the rising gale. With a final, powerful spin, she unleashed a spiraling gust of wind blades towards Julian. The blades weren’t physical constructs, but concentrated bursts of wind energy, sharpened to a razor’s edge by her magic. They hurtled through the air with incredible speed, leaving faint trails of shimmering light in their wake. The **** of the wind buffeted Julian, threatening to knock him off balance. It was a direct attack, a calculated strike designed to test his defenses and exploit any weakness in his stance. The training pit suddenly felt much smaller, the air thick with anticipation and the raw energy of their magical duel.

Julian’s eyes narrowed, tracking the spiraling gust of wind blades as they hurtled towards him. The **** of the wind buffeted his face, tugging at his hair and clothes. He didn't attempt to block them with his blade; instead, a faint azure glow enveloped his body, forming a shimmering barrier of magical energy. The wind blades slammed into the barrier, creating a series of sharp cracks and flashes of light. The barrier held, but the impact sent Julian skidding backwards, his feet digging into the soft earth to maintain his balance.

A smirk touched the boys lips as he regained his footing, the azure glow around his small body fading. He hadn’t been expecting such a fierce attack, but he hadn’t been caught off guard either. He’d sensed the shift in Eira’s power, the invocation of their father’s magic, and had instinctively prepared a defense.

“Impressive.”

Eira said, her voice regaining its playful edge. She lowered her scythe slightly, observing Julian with a critical eye.

“You’re learning to control your mana faster than I anticipated.”

She didn’t offer praise lightly, but Julian’s ability to conjure and sustain a magical barrier had genuinely surprised her.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Julian’s face, quickly replaced by a challenging grin.

“Faster than you anticipated? I’ve always been ahead of you, sister.”

He paused, then continued with a mischievous glint in his green eyes.

“Though you do have wings.”

He raised his blade again, the azure flames dancing along its edge.

“I’ve got something else.”

Before Eira could respond to his taunt, Julian focused his energy, and the azure flames surrounding his blade intensified, growing brighter and hotter. The heat radiating from the weapon became almost unbearable, causing the air to shimmer and distort. He began to spin, mirroring Eira’s earlier movements, but with a distinct difference. Instead of summoning wind, he manipulated the flames, shaping them into a swirling vortex around himself. The vortex grew larger and more chaotic, crackling with energy, resembling a miniature tornado of fire.

Eira's grimoire burst into a radiant glow, its pages fluttering open and swirling around her like a miniature blizzard of arcane knowledge. She wielded her staff before her, her movements precise and deliberate as she began to weave a spell that felt ancient and powerful, a spell she’d only glimpsed in the depths of a dream. Julian’s quick learning was both a blessing and a curse; he absorbed knowledge with frightening speed, forcing her to constantly innovate and push the boundaries of her own abilities. If she wanted to end this duel and emerge victorious, she had to act decisively, to unleash a technique he hadn’t yet encountered.

“Oh nature spirits of this land, heed my call. I beckon thee to strike my foe down in the name of Judgement. Fu'Lo Ta.”

Eira intoned, her voice resonating with newfound authority. A surge of spiritual energy erupted from her, swirling around her form like a protective aura. The air crackled with power as the wavelengths of her magic clashed with Julian’s fiery vortex, creating a spectacle of light and sound. The ground beneath their feet trembled, and the surrounding trees swayed violently in response to the raw energy being unleashed.

A blinding flash of emerald light erupted from Eira, momentarily obscuring her form. When the light subsided, a network of glowing vines had sprung from the earth, snaking towards Julian with alarming speed. They weren’t ordinary vines; they pulsed with spiritual energy, their surfaces covered in thorns that shimmered with a sickly green hue. The vines moved with a sentience of their own, weaving around each other to form a living cage, attempting to ensnare Julian and bind his movements. The air grew heavy with the scent of damp earth and blooming flora, a stark contrast to the scorching heat emanating from Julian’s fiery vortex.

Julian’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as the glowing vines erupted from the earth. He hadn’t anticipated such a direct and forceful application of nature magic, especially not from Eira. He instinctively channeled more energy into his fiery vortex, attempting to incinerate the approaching vines, but they seemed resistant to the flames, their spiritual energy shielding them from the intense heat. The vines continued to advance, their thorny tendrils reaching for him, weaving around his arms and legs, constricting his movements. He grunted with effort, struggling against their grip, the azure glow around his body intensifying as he attempted to break free.

A chilling silence descended upon the training pit as Eira completed her incantation. The glowing vines tightened their grip around Julian, their thorns digging into his skin, drawing small beads of blood. Her eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, now burned with an icy determination. She raised her staff, pointing it directly at Julian, and spoke a single incantation, imbued with immense power.

“Fu’Lo Ta.”

Eira repeated, her voice devoid of emotion, yet resonating with the weight of the spell. The moment the words left her lips, the vines surrounding Julian pulsed with an intensified emerald light. They didn’t simply constrict him; they began to drain his magical energy, siphoning it away and channeling it back to Eira. Julian gasped, his azure flames flickering and dimming as his power was systematically stripped away. He stumbled, his knees buckling under the strain, the magical barrier around his body dissolving completely. The vines held him fast, an unyielding prison woven from the very essence of the forest.

Julian’s face contorted in a grimace of pain and exertion, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought against the draining effect of the spell. His green eyes darted around, searching for an escape, but the vines held him firmly in their grasp, their thorny embrace tightening with each passing moment. The fiery vortex that had moments ago surrounded him sputtered and died, leaving only wisps of smoke in the air. He felt weak, his limbs heavy, his magical reserves depleted. It was a sensation he hadn't experienced in a long time, a stark reminder of his vulnerability.

As Julian’s magical energy dwindled to almost nothing, Eira immediately called off the spell. The emerald glow faded from the vines, and they slowly retracted into the earth, leaving Julian weakened and swaying on his feet. Before he could collapse, Eira moved with surprising speed, rushing forward and wrapping her arms around her brother, cushioning his fall. He was surprisingly light, almost frail, in her embrace. She held him tightly, her expression softening with concern as she felt his body tremble.

Eira held Julian close, her embrace firm and reassuring.

“I’ve missed you ”

She whispered, her voice barely audible above the rustling of the leaves. The necklace Julian had painstakingly crafted for her – a delicate chain adorned with intricately carved wooden beads – dangled freely over his chest, a tangible symbol of their bond. Despite the intensity of their spar, and her own competitive spirit, a wave of affection washed over her. She couldn't bring herself to vocalize it, but a quiet pride swelled within her chest. He had grown so much, so quickly, and his potential was truly remarkable. Even if she wouldn't readily admit it, she was immensely proud of her brother.

Julian leaned into Eira’s embrace, his body trembling with exhaustion. He remained silent for a long moment, simply breathing in the familiar scent of his sister, finding a strange comfort in her closeness. Slowly, he raised a hand and weakly touched the wooden beads of the necklace she wore, a faint smile gracing his lips. The energy drain had been… unsettling. He hadn’t felt that weak in a long time.

“Blossoming lily.”

Eira murmured, her voice a gentle caress. Her grimoire floated open before her, revealing a page bathed in a soft, pinkish glow. As she focused her energy, delicate lily flowers sprouted from the earth around Julian, their petals unfurling in a mesmerizing display of life and renewal. A faint, ethereal light emanated from the blossoms, washing over his wounds, gently closing the cuts inflicted by her thorny vines. The healing magic was soothing, easing his pain and accelerating the recovery of his physical injuries. However, Eira’s abilities had their limits. She could mend his flesh, but she couldn’t restore the magical energy she had drained from him. Mana regeneration was beyond her current capabilities.

Julian’s breathing gradually steadied as the lilies’ soothing energy washed over him. The pain from the thorns subsided, replaced by a warm, tingling sensation. He closed his eyes, allowing the healing magic to work its wonders, grateful for Eira’s care despite their fierce competition. He could feel the cuts closing, the skin knitting back together, but the lingering emptiness within his body remained. It would take time – and likely Thaline’s rigorous training – to replenish his depleted mana reserves.

Eira’s soft whisper cut through the lingering silence.

“Are you able to stand?”

She asked Julian, her voice laced with concern. She carefully adjusted her grip, preparing to help him regain his footing, her expression watchful as she awaited his response. The pinkish glow from the lilies continued to bathe him in healing light, but his overall pallor remained a stark reminder of his depleted energy.

Julian slowly opened his eyes, meeting Eira’s concerned gaze. He attempted to push himself up, but his limbs felt heavy and unresponsive, his muscles protesting with a dull ache. He managed to get onto his elbows, but faltered, nearly collapsing back onto the soft earth. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he instinctively reached out for Eira’s support.

“Not… without help...”

He mumbled, his voice raspy and weak. He leaned heavily on her, grateful for her steady presence. He could feel her strong arms supporting his weight, preventing him from falling.

Eira expertly coiled her arm around Julian’s waist, supporting his weight as he leaned heavily on her, his arm draped over her shoulder. She carefully helped him to his feet, adjusting her grip to ensure he remained stable. He was unsteady, still visibly weakened, but with her support, he managed to stand, albeit swaying slightly. Her gaze then lifted, meeting the watchful eyes of the Dragoon squad captain, who had been observing their spar from the sidelines. A silent message passed between them – a mixture of apology for the intensity of the training and a subtle request for assistance, should Julian require further medical attention. The captain simply nodded, her expression unreadable, before turning her attention back to the other trainees.

Julian leaned heavily on Eira, his body protesting with every small movement. He took a shallow breath, trying to regain his composure, but the emptiness within his core lingered, making even the simplest task feel monumental. He could feel Eira’s strength supporting him, her presence a comforting anchor in his weakened state. As his gaze followed hers, he noticed the Dragoon captain’s stoic nod, a silent acknowledgment of his condition.

Eira’s voice was direct and unwavering as she addressed Captain Sigrid.

“You’ll be taking care of him, right?”

She asked, her gaze unwavering, conveying a clear expectation of proper attention for her brother. She didn’t soften her tone, or offer a polite request – it was a statement, a demand delivered with the quiet authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed. She continued to support Julian, her eyes fixed on Sigrid, awaiting a response.

Captain Sigrid’s expression remained impassive, her gaze cool and assessing. She didn’t flinch under Eira’s direct questioning, nor did she offer any immediate reassurance. After a moment of deliberate silence, she finally spoke, her voice crisp and professional.

“He is under my command during this training regimen. His well-being is my responsibility.”

She paused, her eyes briefly scanning Julian’s pale face.

“He will receive the necessary care. A restorative potion and a period of rest are in order. He will not be participating in any further drills today.”

She then turned her attention to a nearby Dragoon, issuing a curt order.

“Send for a healer and a draught.”

Her tone left no room for argument, conveying a sense of unwavering duty and competence.

Private Dohva Lienos arrived with a brisk efficiency, her ankole cow features immediately drawing the eye. Standing at 5’5, she possessed a striking, almost otherworldly beauty, accentuated by her light brown eyes, silky black hair, and the elegant curve of her pearly white bull horns. A long, swishing cow’s tail swayed gently behind her as she moved, and her ample F-cup breasts were subtly emphasized by the form-fitting uniform. Dohva carried herself with a quiet confidence, a testament to her vital role within the Dragoon squad. It was common knowledge that her natural milk production provided essential healthy fats for the entire encampment, bolstering their strength and endurance.

Dohva approached Julian and Eira with a calm demeanor, her expression professional and focused. She offered a gentle smile to Eira, acknowledging her concern, before turning her attention to Julian.

“Greetings.”

She said, her voice surprisingly melodic.

“I’m Private Dohva Lienos. Captain Sigrid requested my assistance.”

She produced a small vial filled with a shimmering, cloudy liquid – a restorative potion likely made of her own breast milk and a mixture of healing herbs – she offered it to Julian with a reassuring nod.

“This will help replenish your magical energies and accelerate your recovery.”

Julian accepted the vial from Dohva, his fingers brushing against hers for a fleeting moment. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, a blush creeping up his neck as he registered her unusual features and the implied source of the potion. He quickly dismissed the thought, focusing on his immediate need for recovery. He uncorked the vial and drank the potion in one swift gulp. The liquid was surprisingly sweet and creamy, leaving a warm, tingling sensation in his stomach. Almost immediately, he felt a surge of energy coursing through his veins, easing the emptiness within his core. His limbs felt less heavy, his breathing more regular. His body began to relax, nearly going slack in his sister's grasp.

Private Dohva’s smile widened slightly as Julian finished the potion, noting the immediate improvement in his condition. With a gentle reassurance to Eira, she carefully took Julian into her arms, supporting his weight with practiced ease. Her strong arms cradled him comfortably, her ample bosom providing a soft cushion.

“Let’s get you back to the base, little one.”

She murmured, her voice soothing and maternal.

“A proper rest and a hearty breakfast will do you wonders.”

She began to walk towards the Dragoon base, her pace steady and deliberate, her movements graceful despite her imposing size. She glanced back at Eira, offering a reassuring smile before continuing on, carrying Julian with a protective tenderness. The other Dragoons subtly shifted their formations, creating a protective escort around Dohva and her precious cargo.

The journey back to the Dragoon base was a blur of fragmented consciousness for Julian. He drifted in and out of sleep, lulled by the rhythmic sway of Dohva’s walk and the comforting warmth of her embrace. He vaguely registered the hushed whispers of the Dragoons, their protective vigilance a silent reassurance. When he finally came to, he found himself in the infirmary, a clean and sparsely furnished room filled with the scent of herbs and healing magic.

Dohva carefully laid Julian onto a warm, neatly made cot. Her movements were gentle, almost reverent, as she adjusted the blankets around him. A soft smile played on her lips as she observed his peaceful, slumbering face. Then, in a surprisingly casual motion, she began to unbutton the front of her uniform. One by one, the buttons came undone, revealing a generous expanse of creamy skin and her enormous, pendulous breasts. They jiggled with each movement, a subtle yet undeniable display, and small pearls of milk began to drip from her nipples, glistening in the soft light of the infirmary.

Dohva expertly positioned Julian, supporting his head with one hand while guiding him towards her breast with the other. She clearly had experience with this, her movements practiced and efficient. A soft sigh escaped her lips as Julian instinctively latched on, his small mouth finding purchase. A warm, soothing sensation flooded his senses as he began to suckle, the rich, creamy milk flowing freely. It was an undeniably comforting experience, a return to a primal state of dependence and nurturing. Dohva’s large hands gently stroked his stubbly hair, her touch soothing and reassuring. She hummed a low, melodic tune, a lullaby that seemed to deepen his relaxation.

The rhythmic suckling continued, a quiet counterpoint to Dohva’s gentle humming. Julian, lost in a haze of warmth and contentment, barely registered the indignity of the situation, his consciousness slipping further into the realm of dreams. He felt a profound sense of security, a primal comfort he hadn't known he craved. It was a stark contrast to the rigid discipline of Thaline and the teasing flirtation of Isolde – this was pure, unadulterated sustenance and care...