Title: Didn't previously have one; I'm going to call it "Swordswoman"

Status: Unfinished

Last touched: Early 2021

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The clang of steel split the air as the two swords clashed together, the two fencers locked in a deadly dance. One wrong move and that was the end. Both fencers wore grimaces of concentration as they glared across at each other, winding this way and that as they both fought for an opening. Any opportunity to take down their opponent.

The taller of the fencers was a male, an older man with greying hair tied back in a tight bun. The wrinkles around his eyes were proof enough of his years of experience, and the scar that dragged from his left cheek down to his chin was another - a trophy of a battle he had won long ago. Still, his age had its setbacks against his younger opponent.

The man's opponent was a female, a young woman in her upper teenage years with her short brunette hair tucked into a floppy hat. Unlike her older opponent, the girl had no markings upon her skin to prove she had any experience at all in the art of fighting. But the lithe muscles in her arms, taught and tense as she leapt this way and that out of the line of her opponent's rapier, showed that she had more experience than she let on.

With a final grunt and disheartened shove, the older man stumbled away from his opponent, bending at the waist as he huffed for breath. Pleased that she had finally been given a victory, the young woman slid her sword into its sheath at her side and walked off to grab a drink.

"Very well done, m'lady." A slight-statured man commented with a polite smile, handing the woman a cup. She took a large gulp before tossing it aside. The man winced as it hit the ground - he would have to bend down to pick it up.

"Thank you." The woman replied, barely acknowledging the man. "But he let me win. That's not honorable." Eyes narrowed with frustration, she glared across at her opponent, who was still struggling to catch his breath on the field.

A voice rang out from across the field. "Lady Elisaria! I have told you time and time again that you are not to rush off here without my permission!"

Recognizing the voice almost immediately, the young woman rolled her eyes. "My dearest Henrietta, I do appreciate your concern, but as you can see, I am perfectly fine." She took her hat off, swatting the dirt off of the crimson fabric before tucking her hair back up into it.

A middle-aged woman was hurrying across the yard, clutching her skirts in her stubby-fingered hands. "Your mother does not appreciate you spending your time here." She spat, breathless from the speed at which she was approaching.

The young fencer — Elisaria was her name — crossed her arms and attempted to ignore the woman. "Henrietta, please, just calm down. My mother doesn't need to know I'm here. It's none of her business."

"M'lady, I do beg to differ. But I do not want to have this debate with you again and again." The stout woman replied, finally sidling up next to her charge. "Now come, let's return to the castle."

Finding it useless to argue more, Elisaria let out a disappointed sigh and nodded, following the woman off of the sparring field. The young brunette's opponent dipped his head in a small bow as they passed, and she allowed herself a flourish of her hand to acknowledge him. Even though he had let her win in the end, she enjoyed practicing her swordsmanship with the man. He had taught her everything she knew, and he was just getting too old to keep up with his student any longer.

"I don't understand why you enjoy it out here." Henrietta continued to mutter with a shudder, eyeing the others practicing around the field. One pair in particular was performing quite the battle — Elisaria could see the men sweating from where she stood halfway across the yard. The fighters had even attracted an audience, who let out a cheer from the side each time either of the men made a particularly risky move.

Elisaria picked at a spot on her sleeve where the strings had come loose, likely a result of the more vigorous practice she had taken up earlier that morning, before sparring with her mentor. The tear hadn't even come from the blade — it had simply caught on part of the crossguard as she was trying out a fighting position. "You and I both know, Henrietta, that I belong out here far more than I do in the castle."

The woman didn't disagree, but her gaze moved to the young woman's sleeve. She let out a tired sigh. "Again? That was just mended a few days ago, m'lady."

Elisaria sent her a glare. "Do not chide me. I can just as easily tell my mother that you did not do a good enough job with it the first time. And we do not need a lady's helper who cannot fix seams properly." The harsh words did their job at silencing the woman, and Henrietta said no more, lowering her head worriedly and murmuring her apologies.

Instead of heading straight for the great stone castle that loomed ahead of them, Elisaria turned to the side and headed for a much smaller building. This was where she hid her fencing equipment. If her mother — that is, the queen of Casere — were to discover that her daughter had been taking part in the "bloody and inappropriate" sport, Elisaria would be forced to kiss freedom goodbye.

"Afternoon, m'lady." A tall man greeted Elisaria and her lady-in-waiting as they stepped into the cramped building. She recognized him as Chadric, the one in charge of guarding the storage of weapons and armor kept in the kingdom. He had always been kind to her, not just because of her royal status — his younger brother Henley had even sparred with her occasionally, before he had caught the pox the previous month. Surprisingly enough, the boy was still alive, though he was struggling with the debilitating sickness. Chadric didn't seem as much himself as usual, being so close to his brother.

"Good afternoon, good sir." Elisaria greeted, ensuring her voice remained polite. As close as she was to Henley, she couldn't imagine what Chadric must have been feeling, having such a tight relationship with him. She slipped off her leather chestplate and the rest of her protective equipment, hanging it all on its proper hook.

Chadric nodded, his mouth twitching slightly as he whispered something she couldn't hear. The young woman guessed he was instinctively thanking her for her politeness -- the man had such a low position that no one often offered him any respect. He helped Elisaria with her equipment before reaching for her sword. She let out a hiss of annoyance, sweeping her arm to the side to get him away from her prized weapon. A fearful expression jumped onto Chadric's face, but Elisaria just sighed.

"My apologies. I just... I would rather keep my sword at my side." The young woman fixed her gaze on the ground, feeling embarrassed by her outburst.

The man hurried to nod. "Of course, m'lady. Is that alright with, erm, your mother? Keeping your sword with you?" His eyes were full of sympathy for the young woman, his fear having since disappeared.

Elisaria let out a soft snort. "No, of course not. My mother has no idea that I even own one." She rolled her eyes gently, resting her palm on the pommel of the sword that stuck out of its sheath. "I'll just have to hide it. I refuse from this moment forward to be forced to remain defenseless."

"How will you hide it, m'lady?" Chadric asked. Elisaria could tell that he was at least a little impressed by her determination.

"I should have an extra skirt down her that I can wear over the sheath. I remember bringing one down the last time I came here." The young woman murmured after a moment of thought. Her eyes skated the room until she noticed a folded piece of silken fabric lying half-hidden on one of the armory's shelves. She went to pick it up. "Right, I remember now. Henrietta made this skirt much too large for me. But it will fit perfectly over the sheath and belt."

As Elisaria slipped on the flowing skirt, taking care not to tear it on the rough leather of the sheath, she heard a knock on the armory door. Everyone in the room instantly froze. Chadric recovered first, whispering hurriedly for Elisaria and her lady-in-waiting to hide behind the racks of armor. The two women didn't hesitate to oblige.

Chadric watched to ensure they were both hidden appropriately before turning to the door and opening it. The heavy wooden door creaked inwards on its rusted hinges. "Good day. How I may be of assistance?" The man greeted.

Elisaria couldn't see who was standing at the door from where she stood hidden, but the voice matched the deeply resonating one of Sir Elmton, her mother's second-in-command. "The eastern border is being severely threatened by the opposing forces. We need the armor and weapons doubled so we can send more soldiers to face them.

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My Thoughts:

I feel like I tried really hard to sound like an old English writer when I wrote this. The weirdly formal dialogue, the overly flowery language, the fantastical-sounding names... It sounds pretty forced to me.

Admittedly enough, Elisaria sounds like a nice name.

Honestly, the sword fight in the beginning is the only fast-paced, entertaining bit, in my opinion. Everything else is kind of slow, boring, and not super fun to read.

I don't know where I was going with this. I assume at some point Elisaria's sword skills would be used for something. As for what, I'm not sure. A war? A conflict of some type? Something having to do with her being a princess (and her mother being the queen)? Does something happen to the royal family?

I definitely think this would need a lot of work-shopping if it were to be made into a full length story.