Next Day
The morning air was crisp, filled with the subtle scent of dew on wood and steel. The training grounds echoed with the sound of swinging blades and rhythmic grunts. Solis stood across from Captain Devon once again, sweat clinging to his brow though the sun hadn't yet risen fully.
"Today," Devon said, tossing a smaller training axe toward Solis, "we begin your next step."
Solis caught it with his dominant hand — his right — and looked at Devon with a curious tilt of his head. "Another weapon?"
"Not quite. Switch hands."
Solis blinked. "Huh? My... left hand?"
"Exactly."
A pause.
"…But my left hand's awful."
Devon gave a small smirk. "And that's exactly why we're starting there."
Devon stepped forward and held out his own twin axes. His left arm, just slightly less broad than his right, moved with ease. "Dual Weapon Wielding Art," he said, "isn't about swinging both weapons at once like some mindless brute. It's about mastering the flow between two weapons — two hands — two states of thought. Harmony in chaos."
Solis raised an eyebrow. "That sounds… poetic. But also painful."
Devon chuckled. "It will be."
He walked over to a set of wooden dummies set in a half-circle. Each dummy had chalk marks on different target zones — head, neck, shoulders, ribs.
"Your dominant hand, right hand, is already conditioned," Devon said. "But your left is the clumsy sibling. If you can train it — not just to mimic the right, but to think on its own — you'll become unpredictable. Also Aura Release responds well to a mind that can function through conflict. So it's a win-win condition."
Solis tightened his grip on the new axe and nodded. "Alright then. Teach me."
---
Week of the Left Hand
The days blurred together in a rhythm of pain and precision. At first, Solis could barely hold the axe in his left hand for more than a few minutes without it trembling. Devon had him perform isolated drills — lifting, rotating, striking, blocking — all with the left hand.
"Don't think of it as your weaker side," Devon said one day, as Solis groaned through a set of left-arm shoulder rolls with weights. "Think of it as a rival. Make it rise to your standard."
Solis winced. "I'd rather make peace with it."
"Peace always comes after war."
In the evenings, after training, Solis would go to the Objective Board, his left arm still throbbing. Sometimes Ada would join him, other times she'd already be returning from a job.
"You look like you arm-wrestled a bear," she teased, handing him a drink from the vending stall beside the board.
Solis took it gratefully and grunted. "More like the bear decided to wrestle back."
She scanned the new missions, arms crossed. "They've posted a new one — Rank C delivery to Westhall Ridge. 30 RP."
"I'll take it," Solis said. "Simple route and familiar ground. My left arm really needs recovery."
Ada nodded, then pointed to another. "There's a Rank B one too — escort job. 45 RP."
Solis eyed it. "You going for it?"
She smiled. "Of course. I need to close the gap. 1000 RP for the B-Rank exam. I'm already at 670."
Solis whistled. "You're not playing around."
"Neither are you." She gave his left arm a light tap. "Besides, if you pass me, who will I chase?"
---
Mental Fusion and Aura Flow
Back at training, Devon began introducing the idea of mental split awareness — a term that made Solis's head spin more than once.
"To activate higher levels of Aura Release," Devon explained, "you need more than emotion or power. You need intentional clarity. Each percentage —10%, 20%, all the way up — represents the degree your soul, mind, and body align."
"So... it's not brute force," Solis said, his left arm now swinging with much more fluidity. "It's more like... flow?"
"Exactly. Think of it like a dam. Force builds up, but it's your mind that chooses how much of that force gets released. Unstable mind is like broken dam. Stable mind maintains perfect stream."
Solis paused. "And dual wielding trains the mind to divide and focus at once."
"Now you're getting it."
For the first time, Solis could feel his left arm beginning to act not as a follower — but a partner. His footwork naturally adjusted, his stance more balanced. During sparring practice, Devon pushed him harder, forcing him to block with the left and counter with the right, mixing movement and muscle memory in unison.
The bruises were numerous. The progress — undeniable.
---
Late Evening Whispers
That evening, as Solis returned from a quick delivery job, he spotted a commotion near the palace courtyard. Flags were being raised, guards were assembling in neat formation, and carriages were being cleaned and prepared.
Curious, Solis leaned closer to hear the guards' chatter.
"Preparations for Princess Lily's journey," one said.
"She's actually leaving the palace?"
"King's order. A royal tour of the kingdom. But I hear she asked for it herself."
Solis's ears perked.
---
In the heart of the palace, far away from the bustle of knights and couriers, Princess Lily sat before a mirror. Her golden curls were carefully brushed by her handmaid, her deep blue eyes fixated on her reflection — not in vanity, but in resignation.
"You're awfully quiet today, milady," said the maid.
"I'm always quiet," Lily replied softly.
She stood up, brushing off the royal gown stitched with the MacLinneth crest — a lion with wings over a golden crown. Her posture was perfect, her voice refined, her every step is practiced.
But behind her eyes, something stirred.
She walked to the balcony that overlooked the capital.
"This journey," she whispered, "is the only thing I've asked for in years."
"His Majesty believes it's a symbol of peace. A show of strength to our people."
Lily nodded. "Yes. That's how he sees it."
"And how do you see it?"
Lily paused, then gave a mischievous smirk, the kind she never let out in court.
"I see it… as a crack in the wall."
The maid looked surprised.
Lily continued, more softly, "All my life I've been told to be the ideal princess. Graceful, calm, never questioning. My father means well, but he sees me more as a symbol than a person."
"Do you resent him, milady?"
"No," Lily said immediately. "He loves me. He wants the best for me. But I can't keep pretending that I'm content behind golden doors."
She looked toward the far hills, where she imagined rivers flowing, towns bustling, knights training in the field.
"I want to see the people. Not just wave at them from balconies. I want to live among them. Even for a little while."
The maid smiled softly. "You sound more like a traveler than a noble."
"Maybe I'm both," Lily said. "Maybe being a symbol doesn't mean I have to stop being me."