First Master

The arena was circular, enclosed by high stone walls and open to the sky. Light filtered down in a golden haze, illuminating the smooth stone floor beneath Alice’s feet. She stepped into the center, eyes scanning the perimeter. The air buzzed with anticipation, though no crowd watched.

Across from her stood a man in a plain grey tunic, his only adornment a simple scabbard at his hip. He looked older than she expected mid-forties, maybe with a calm, unreadable expression. He bowed slightly, drawing his sword with slow precision.

“I am Master Havel,” he said. “Luck to you, Alice Caddel.”

Alice nodded, muscles coiled. “And to you.”

There was no ceremony, no signal. One moment they stood still and then the next, steel flashed.

Havel moved fast. His blade sang through the air in precise arcs, his footwork flawless, his movements honed by decades of training. But Alice was faster. Much faster.

She parried a high slash with barely a flick of her wrist, countering with a sweeping low kick that **** him to reposition. He came again, feinting left and lunging right, his sword aimed at her side. Alice pivoted, letting the blade slide past harmlessly, then retaliated with a rapid strike that made him stumble.

Havel’s eyes widened slightly in realization.

Alice pressed forward. Her body moved like water, empowered by the energy she’d unlocked fucking the Queen the past few days. She saw his next strike before it happened. She felt the shift in his weight, the tension in his shoulders. He came at her with renewed urgency, his blade a blur, but she was already inside his guard.

Their blades clashed again, and though he deflected her strike, the way his jaw tightened told her he knew: he was outmatched.

With a sudden step forward, Havel launched a final gambit a high feint followed by a rapid thrust aimed for her shoulder. It was clean, clever, and executed with speed.

Alice didn’t blink.

Her body moved before her mind had time to process. She twisted, sidestepped the thrust, and in a smooth motion, disarmed him. His sword clattered to the floor and skidded across the stone.

Silence.

Havel looked at her for a long second, then dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

“I yield,” he said, voice calm. “You’ve trained well. Your power runs deep.”

Alice nodded, chest rising and falling with steady breath. “Thank you, Master Havel.”

He stood and offered her a small, approving smile. “Be proud. That was earned.”

Virell met her just outside the arena, arms folded as always.

“Well,” she said. “That didn’t take long.”

Alice gave a small shrug. “I’m ready for the next.”

Virell raised an eyebrow. “Most challengers ask for a night’s rest.”

“I’m not most challengers.”

A faint smirk touched Virell’s lips. “Clearly. Twenty minutes. The next master will meet you then.”

She turned and strode off before Alice could reply.

Back in the quiet prep room, Alice sat on the bench, letting the adrenaline settle but not fully fade.

She leaned back against the wall, eyes closed.

Who’s next? she wondered.