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“I bet she’s so pretty, just like the Queen!”
“Do you think she’s guarded by a dragon?”
“Woah, that’s intense…”
“When I rescue her, she’ll swoon at my dashing looks!”
“What about you, Cassandra?”
A sharp elbow to her arm took her out of her thoughts.
“Huh?”
Around her were five Coronan boys, and she would make the six that composed the Junior Guard. A training program—more like a boy-scout summer camp, that her father, the Captain, had finally let her join. She was his daughter, after all, it was only right that she be there. She hoped it was a sign of a promise, that one day, she would make it in. Besides, it was much more fun than needlework. If she could just prove it to him that she was good enough…
“What do you think the Lost Princess is like?”
“Oh, uh…”
The blush on her face was obvious. Well, she had been lost in her thoughts for that exact reason.
“Alright, Sun-Scouts, lunchtime is over! Grab your blades, we’re going over the stages of combat.”
Thanks, Dad, she thought—but, did he really have to call them that?—and the lot of them stood from their lazy circle on the grass, boots clacking and padded armor all disheveled. The boys grabbed their training swords, light and beautiful with gold hilts and engraved suns in each of them. But, to her dismay, she had no blade of her own. Hers was foolishly made of wood—though she’d tried to convince her father she was more than capable of using her first real sword; she was thirteen after all, and he’d already let her have one of his daggers.
Maybe you are, he said, but I can’t risk you getting hurt. So much for playing favorites, Dad.
“I know you all want to become guards and save the Lost Princess, and that is exactly the passion and drive we want from you! But being a guard of Corona is more than just running into danger headfirst, it requires craft and precision. Which is why mastering the art of swordsmanship is most important to any guard worth his salt. On my mark, follow me. Swords up, first position—“
The scouts stood in a line before the Captain, a little dirt plot by the stables that made for a perfect little training ground.
“When I rescue her, she’s going to fall in love with me!” The boy to her left was boasting. She laughed; he sneered. “Hey, what’s so funny, CassANdra?”
“‘Two!’ Wrists firm, don’t cross your arms, like this, see—“
Wooden sword held high, she smirked at her fellow trainee. “You wouldn’t last a second out there, beyond the walls.”
“Alright, quiet over there…” The Captain swung his impressive blade over his head with a whoosh, in a gallant posture. “‘Three!’ Over your head, don’t hit your fellow scouts!”
The boy snickered, he could’ve been speaking right in her ear. “You’re one to talk, your Daddy won’t even let you have a real sword!”
She turned on him, sword still raised above her head, so abruptly that the wooden tip clacked against his training helmet that failed to hide his stupid blond curls. “You wanna run that by me again?”
“Cassandra—“
The Captain’s looming shadow was behind her at once. She grimaced.
“I’ve told you, you can’t keep stirring up trouble…”
“Sir! She hit me in the head!”
“Cool it, Blondie, it’s just a fancy piece of oak. And it was a tap. Good job, you’re wearing your helmet.”
“Cassandra, please…” Her father’s gauntleted hand clamped down on her shoulder, and he bent to her level. His voice was calm, but pressed. “May I remind you, that you being here is a special privilege.”
“‘Privilege?’ You want to talk to me about ‘privilege’ when these boys had no problem getting in the Junior Guard, and they can’t even hold their swords straight!”
“Alright, sweetheart, calm down; come on, stand over here, on the end…”
Her shoulders raised and she huffed, blowing her unruly bangs from her eyes. The murmurs and boyish giggles followed as she took her new position, sword tip drawing a line in the dirt behind her as she walked. The ginger-haired boy at the end took an exaggerated step aside to give her space. She swore he gulped, and he was right to: The girl had a fire in her heart that wouldn’t be put out easily.
“Alright…” The Captain of the Guard cast his daughter a glance, watching her raise her sword with a new anger. “Let us resume. Quietly.”
Posture Four, the blade tipped in a downward, slanted angle, to protect and parry. Five, to swing the blade across the body, to counter the opponent’s swipe and go for an opening at their unprotected side. Six…
“Your Daddy would never let you join the real Corona Guard, anyway. You’d never even get the chance to look for the Princ—“
The anger in her snapped like the string of a violin. And, just as harshly, she stepped out of her place, swinging her mock-sword broadly at the blond boy who persisted in his pestering.
“Hey! Cass—Cassandra, cut it out!” He stepped back, blocking her swing, but stumbling in his surprise.
“You wanna know what I think the Lost Princess is like?” She was relentless; she swung again, and again, may it be added, with perfect form. “I think she’s worth more than you whining babies, that’s for sure!”
The others backed away as the dust clouded around the pair. They stood in a semi-circle before them, cheering, of course. Boys were always itching for a brawl on the grounds.
“Yeah! A duel! A duel! A duel!”
Amongst their childish excitement, she did hear her father, his feeble attempts at getting her to stop. She only grinned, and Blondie, here? He looked terrified.
She knocked the sword from his hand. A quick spin and a level kick to the boy’s leather breastplate would send him backward, to land square on his behind on the ground.
“I’m going to be a Guard,” she pronounced, approaching him, “and, when I rescue her…” She kicked the blade from his reach, and it skidded across the sand. “I’ll show her just how big this world really is. We’ll take it on together, and Corona, too! She’ll be Queen and I’ll be Captain, and the two of us?—We’ll be unstoppable.”
The boys were speechless.
She thrust her hand forward, to help the boy on the ground, and swung her mock-blade over her shoulder. “What, scared of a little friendly competition, boys? Like you said. It’s just a wooden sword.”