Inner Region of Agora.
In the snowy mountain ranges of Sierra, a blizzard had been threatening the wildlife and terrain as snow continued to obliterate anyone who dared to go out in the open. Trees were thickly covered in powder and the wind made it hard to see, much less traverse on unstable terrain.
Despite this, two figures continued to traverse down the mountain, seemingly unbothered by the extreme cold.
"How much longer do we have to do this?"
"Be quiet, we're almost there."
His teeth chattered from the cold. The bow in his hands shivered as he carried dead hares in a basket on his back. Aside from it, he had failed to catch any game for the winter. It seemed as though the meager meat he had managed to hunt will only be enough sustenance for a week if he was generous.
From the distance, a fortress greeted them that stood tall at the precipice of the mountain. A figure appeared waiting by the north gate, carrying what looked like a deer on his shoulder, the imposing battle axe strapped behind him. The scent of blood carried over that even in the midst of the cold, its stench was overwhelming.
"Good god, how much did you kill?"
The young man with a bow had a disgusted expression. "Could you not have wrapped the deer in a cloth?"
"Why waste perfectly good cloth when I can carry it instead? You are just too cowardly to hold them as is." The other replied as he laughed heartily. The young man sighed and took a few steps away, he did not want to associate himself with a mad man.
When the gates opened, only then did the chill dissipate. The castle, more of a fortress than anything, had been imbued with vitalis, ensuring that the inside will always be warm. Such are the benefits of a powerful headmaster and a long-standing institution with generations of heroes behind them.
Heroes as they are called but later generations would likely refer to them as warriors. It seemed inappropriate to call them heroes when it came to slaughtering thousands of people, much of whom were innocent. And while war has dwindled to a few territorial disputes here and there, political tensions were apparent when there is no common enemy to unite them. Beasts had died down to a few hundred thousands, hardly counting as a threat for a continent overflowing with people.
"Quiet down, you two. The guards will scold us again for sneaking out to hunt, we were only lucky that we know the ones stationed in the north gate."
"No one will have to know if we sneak inside the kitchen. I am sure the cooks will appreciate the extra protein."
"Be that as it may, we do appreciate your help, Vihrea."
And so the three of them found their way inside the enormous kitchen, where cooks and helpers were busy preparing for the coming dinner. There were hundreds of hungry people inside the fortress awaiting their meals. While the staff thanked them for the help, they were kicked out before they could sneak off with a platter of desserts.
"Would the professors scold us if they find out we snuck out again?"
"You are too unreasonable, Porte. They don't have to know as long as we're quiet about it."
"You can only say that since you can get away with anything."
Vihrea coughed. "Might I remind you two to tone it down again? I would hate to use excessive violence inside castle grounds. You should both be training instead. Winter will end soon and a new instructor will arrive. Best help yourselves before anything else."
Porte nodded and said, "Al, why not spar with me in the combat hall?"
The young man with the axe raised a brow. "Me? But we're not suited to spar. I dislike sparring with someone who keeps running away."
"Then I won't, Young Master Albright."
"Alright we can spar. Never call me that again."
Porte let out a small laugh and both left. Ethel shook her head for finding their antics amusing and returned to her room. Changing out of her clothes, exhaustion settling in her body. For people like her, every moment should be spent training the body. She had felt insistent in hunting outside to test her endurance against the cold, knowing her weakness. But not much progress to be seen considering the shivering of her body.
Too many things to handle on a daily basis, sometimes she wished that she was not born in this body. Or any body. Maybe wishing that she was not born at all. While changing into a fresh linen shirt, someone knocked on her door.
"Come in," she said as she sat down on the chair.
"What is making our dear maiden despair?"
A beauty that could topple men with a smile came inside, her hips slightly swayed as she settled down on the bed. Her face looked delicate but firm, the kind of beauty that was dangerous.
"Pity that you think that way," Vihrea replied. "But I am thinking of the new instructor for sparring."
"Baron Kapfem? What about him?"
"You are familiar with him?"
"Not so much as familiar, but our families are acquainted." She said, rolling over the covers. "I'm from Werdolf, remember?"
"Of course, but please don't make a mess of my bed."
She ignored her and continued, "He was a former knight and my father told me that he was also a member of Oleander, though I could not confirm if that was true or merely hearsay. As for why he came all the way out here, I am guessing it is because of the headmaster."
Ethel nodded and thought about it. The headmaster is her lifeline, the person who gave her a new identity and a clean slate, but she had never heard about Baron Kapfem before. An old friend, perhaps? But why had he never mentioned him? Although they cannot considered to be friends, she had considered herself a confidant of his. What influence did the headmaster hold? Was he merely a ninth class soturi? Or something more?
She shook her head of such thoughts and said, "I see. I have heard that his classes start next week and that he is strict with training."
"Yes, I am actually quite excited. Are you familiar with Kassis?
"Who?"
The woman rolled her eyes. "For someone who is addicted to training and sparring, why are you not familiar with him? He is someone like you, doing nothing but train and temper his body in the Black Tower."
The Black Tower was an imposing building in the east courtyard. There, people could temper their bodies to withstand pressure that mimicked the different levels of a soturi. Of course, it was an inaccurate example of actual combat, but it was useful to strengthen the body. After all, a mere tower cannot accurately replicate the vitalis of a living person.
There are many people whose vitalis does not correspond to their levels. A fifth class soturi might actually have vitalis closer to the sixth level and so on. Some professors advised against training in that kind of environment due to the inaccuracies but certain individuals insisted that the tempering of the body will be useful in combat. It trains grit and willpower as a constant pressure assaulted your body. Vihrea was not all that interested, but nevertheless still trained.
Vihrea tilted her head in confusion. "Fleur, I am sure you are aware that I have a terrible memory. I lack the capacity to care about things that do not directly concern me."
"Appalling." Fleur looked dismayed and stood up. "What am I to do with you?"
She wanted to laugh but decided against it. She knew herself to be helpless with remembering people's names. After all, she did not interact much with people in the first place.
"I hardly care for people I barely interact with. Let me see… Is he that guy wielding a flyssa?"
"Yes!"
"Oh okay. Then I do remember him a bit. He's the person closest to ever beating me. I remember he looked quite shocked."
"Talk about bragging."
"Fleur Cyprus." Vihrea stood up, her lips curving up in a small smile. "It's not bragging if it's the truth."
And then she was gone.
Fleur shook her head. "Unbelievable."
There were several classes to being a top notch warrior in the continent of Eos. From first class to tenth class. Most people would reach the bottleneck of the fifth, because it meant you'd need to start tempering your body.
Tempering the body worked the same way you'd temper a sword. Only until you possess a vessel pure enough to harness the full extent of vitalis would you be able to break through the sixth.
Vihrea, having trained for the past six years, had already reached the bottleneck of the seventh, a level that would normally take a person ten years to overcome. She had already been regarded by the professors as a genius.
Why wouldn't she be proud of herself?