The Warrior of Avelyn

ⅩⅥ

"It's time to wake up, your highness."

Victor groaned, pulling his blanket on his face before he removed it grumpily like a toddler playing peek-a-boo. His eyes adjusted, and only then did it hit him that the voice that spoke to him was of a man's.

"Matthew?" he wondered out loud. "You're back?"

"Yes, your majesty." he smiled politely.

"I'm glad you're safe and healthy again." Victor smiled, his drowsiness now replaced with a sudden sadness.

He didn't like the formality anymore; it felt strange to him now.

"I'll leave you to get ready then." he bowed respectfully. "I've prepared your clothes and your breakfast is on the table."

"Thank you, Matthew." the manservant hid his amused smile skillfully and walked out the room, stopping when Victor called out to him. "And please, just call me Victor."

After he changed his clothes he sat at his table to eat his breakfast, but it tasted different. It was missing the slight spice that he liked.

Clara didn't make his breakfast this time.

He sighed and shook his head, turning his attention to Matthew, who had just entered the room to make his bed.

"Have we any news on Carmen's return to Elvaria?"

"Not yet, your-" he cut himself off once he saw Victor's raised eyebrow. "Not yet, Victor."

Victor smiled in thanks and returned to his food, eating solemnly and praying that Carmen would get back home safely.

After the attack on their group the other day, Carmen was requested to go back to her own kingdom, where she would be back with her family who had left Avelyn earlier than her. Ever since that day, the people were on edge. He had seen the fear in their eyes when he snuck out to town all alone. 

Guilt weighed him down; maybe if he had spoken to Hugo better, there wouldn't be a war ahead of them. 

Deciding to shove away his thoughts, he went over to his messy desk and attempted to go through his own tasks.

Key word; attempted.

And he clearly failed.

After an hour of hopelessly going through his papers and trying to organize them like Clara always did for him, he finally gave up, frustratedly running his hand through his hair. 

He then shot up from his seat and left his room, instantly going back in to grab a jacket to keep him from the cold of the hallways. As he walked around the castle, he heard shouts and swords clashing, so he went towards it assuming it was the knight's training, and he'd never really seen one before.

As he arrived on the field, he heard a woman's voice shout a battle-cry and the knight facing her fell down from the force of her charge.

Victor's breath hitched in his throat as he stared at the woman, her face determined and cold as ice. 

Clara.

Her breathing was heavier than usual but still steady due to all the training she'd had over the years. Her hair was an absolute mess but it was her eyes that really caught Victor's attention.

They were fierce, like a fire was blazing behind them; they planted fear deep inside him when their eyes met for a mere second before she turned back, having heard footsteps, and sidestepped her attacker.

The knight's blunt sword was big and heavy and he was able to disarm Clara with a swift movement, but she didn't back away; instead she dodged his attacks swiftly, being faster than the heavy weapon in his hands. Before the sword was able to reach her, she hit his forearm with her own harshly, making him lose his grip on his sword as it tilted towards the ground. Clara kicked him back, her hand on the hilt of the sword keeping her steady. The knight let go of the sword as Clara now clutched it in her two hands and swung down, planting it next to his head as he laid on the ground, breathing heavily.