The battlefield was a living nightmare. Smoke choked the air, and fire licked the mud, turning it into a pool of blood and grime. The screams of dying men pierced through the roar of steel clashing and the thundering hooves of warhorses. Everywhere, men fell, dragged under by the chaos of battle, their lives extinguished before their screams could fade.
Amid the madness, one figure stood tall, unshaken by the carnage surrounding them. Armor scratched and dulled from countless blows, yet their presence radiated an unwavering pride. Mounted on a magnificent dark steed, they appeared almost otherworldly, cutting through the enemy lines with a sudden, unstoppable force. Their weapon—a gleaming glaive as long as a spear—swept through the ranks, opening a path for soldiers to follow, seizing the opportunity their courage had carved.
And then, the helmet came off.
Beneath the battered steel, there was no man. Only a woman. Short, blonde hair matted with blood and dirt clung to her face. Her green eyes shone fiercely amidst the flames and chaos. That woman was me.
"My name is Catalina Duavan," through the roar of battle. "I am the only woman in history to ever join the War of Conquest and rise to knighthood."
With a fluid motion, I charged forward again, my glaive slicing through any enemy foolish enough to cross my path. I dominated the field with my steed, until an arrow struck its leg, sending it tumbling to the ground. I scrambled, my helmet clattering away, but I rolled and regained my footing, weapon ready.
Ahead of me loomed a giant—a knight as tall as a mountain, wielding a massive great axe in both hands. He laughed upon seeing me.
"I see your kingdom has sunk so low as to send a woman into battle," he mocked. "You...my lady, are beautiful. It's a shame I must cut down such a pretty flower."
I frowned, but my composure remained unbroken. Raising my glaive, I met his gaze, the flames around us burning higher as we stood in tense standoff. The world narrowed to just the two of us, and the fire of war mirrored the fire in my heart.
Three long years before the battlefield.
The morning sun glinted off the training yard of the royal courtyard. Squads of squires practiced with wooden swords and shields, the clanging of metalless combat echoing across the stone walls. Among them, four men cornered a young woman with blonde hair, her uniform already smeared with mud from a fall.
"A woman in training?" sneered one of the men, pushing her roughly onto the ground. "This is a man's world, girl. Go back to the kitchens."
The others laughed, circling her with cruel amusement. But that blonde woman is Catalina and she did not flinch. She looked up at the tallest bully among them with a sly grin.
"Careful," she taunted, her voice steady. "You might end up on the ground longer than me."
The man scowled, anger flaring across his face. "You'll regret mocking me, girl!" he barked.
In one swift motion, Catalina rolled to her side, leveraging her flexibility and strength. With precise movements, she locked his arm in a painful joint hold, forcing him down to the ground with a scream that echoed humorously across the courtyard. The other three froze, shock and hesitation in their eyes.
Before they could react, a commanding voice boomed across the courtyard.
"Enough!" A stern man approached, his cloak swaying behind him. It was Commander Halvar, one of the highest trainers in the realm. "Back to training. Now."
Immediately, the three male squires stepped back, forming an at-ease stance. Catalina straightened herself, adopting the same disciplined posture. The man she had pinned remained struggling beneath her.
Commander Halvar studied the scene, his gaze sharp. He noted the tension in her muscles, the controlled strength in her hold, the sharpness of her eyes. Then he gestured at the fallen squire. "Carry him for medical attention. He will face punishment later for his misconduct."
The three squires quickly obeyed, hauling their friend away while casting wary glances at the commander.
Halvar turned his attention to Catalina. His eyes assessed her stance, her form, and the controlled strength she had displayed. "Your technique is tacky, but effective. You could have easily broken his arm. Work on your form, but know that you are not in trouble. Am I clear, squire?"
"Yes, Commander Halvar," she replied quickly, relief washing over her.
The commander gave a final approving nod, lingering for a moment, feeling a rare spark of respect and curiosity. He imagined what heights she might reach, recognizing in her a squire whose potential could surpass many seasoned soldiers if she continued to hone her extraordinary talent. Catalina stood tall, a spark of pride and determination lighting her eyes.
Catalina pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the squires' barracks, her clothes streaked with mud and sweat, in need of a wash before the next training session. Across the hall, a young woman sat on her bed, absorbed in her journal. Catalina's eyes lit up as she called out, "Well, glad to see your face isn't buried in the mud by these idiots, Jessica."
Jessica looked up, letting out a soft laugh. "Maybe if you weren't showing off and besting everyone at everything, you wouldn't get picked on so much," she teased, a playful sparkle in her eyes.
The two women exchanged a warm smile, a quiet acknowledgment of shared camaraderie in the midst of a world dominated by men.
As I settled down, my thoughts turned to Jessica. She's more than a friend—she's like a sister to me. Her parents took me in when I was starving on the streets. I was just an orphaned child, yet they treated me as one of their own. Jessica has always been the brains behind our plans, quick to think ahead, but never daring to step onto the battlefield herself. I wonder if my determination gave her the courage she needed to stand on her own. Together, we found ways to defy the limits this cruel, male-dominated world tried to place upon us. Side by side, we trained in the barracks, squires not just by duty, but by choice, our bond growing stronger with every challenge we faced.
Over the following weeks, the two young women trained relentlessly in the courtyard. Jessica often struggled with her stamina, and each time she faltered, Catalina was there to lift her up, steadying her with quiet encouragement and soft, motivating words that reflected both care and determination. From a distance, boys jeered and mocked, but Catalina, sharp and focused, picked up a small rock and hurled it with precise accuracy at one of the same boys she had bested before, hitting him squarely and causing him to stumble, her gaze burning with frustration and resolve.
During spare training, Catalina moved with a fluid grace, demonstrating exceptional combat skill, her agility and quick thinking allowing her to outmaneuver much stronger opponents. Jessica, meanwhile, carried papers and supplies for other squires, performing menial tasks while watching Catalina in awe. Catalina's frustration at the unfairness flared, and with a sharp flick of her wrist, she hurled her wooden sword at the same taunting fellow, knocking him down once more. Her anger made the act sharp and satisfying, and the intensity in her eyes could not be hidden.
The weeks were grueling, particularly for Jessica, but for Catalina, they were a challenge she embraced fully. She pushed herself twice as hard than the men in the barracks, her muscles burning and breath ragged, yet her resolve never wavered, driven to prove that even a woman could achieve what a man could. Commander Halvar, observing their progress, noting the tension in her posture, the controlled precision in her strikes, and the fiery determination in her gaze.
He felt a rare spark of respect and anticipation, imagining the heights this squire could reach if she continued to cultivate her remarkable skill and unwavering will. The stern cold hearted commander was truly impressed—not because she was a woman, but by her unyielding determination and skill, a testament to a person striving to prove their worth.
And so, as the sun set behind the training yard, casting long shadows over the cobblestones, Catalina paused to catch her breath. Her eyes lingered on the horizon, imagining the battles she would one day face, the victories she would earn, and the name she would carve into history. Tomorrow, she would rise again, stronger and wiser, ready for whatever challenges awaited.