Lumina

12 ~ Hometown

Maizie

Leather wraps stretched under the immense grip Maizie held her short sword. Air heaved through her burning lungs with a cramp in her side that now twisted through her whole gut. No complaint, however, would be understood enough to deter the furry black mass of muscle crouched in front of the princess. The feline snarled and jumped.

In an instant Maizie launched herself to the side, her knee slamming against the wooden floor. The weapon clattered from her hold and all she could do was grit her teeth; there was no time to falter as the panther twisted and swiped out with perfectly sharpened claws. Maizie stifled a groan and rolled away- the opposite direction of her weapon- with uncontrolled sparks of magic trailing her wake at the spike in her adrenaline.

A chastising noise came from her instructor to which Maizie responded with an exasperated sigh. These early morning training sessions had gone on for weeks by Vita's order and, though it was evident Maizie held no mastery over the sword- or any weapon, for that matter, her muscles had begun forming through the constant work-outs.

Wasn't that enough?

A whistle pierced the air and the giant paw hurtling towards Maizie's back stopped. One more whistle and the claws retracted with an audible sshk. All for show, but meant to seem real to push her just the same. Something between a growl and a purr sounded through the feline, followed by a soft brush of the panther's tail across Maizie's neck. Maizie tracked the glint in the oversized cat's eye as she sauntered past.

"Right." She panted from her crouch on the scuffed floor, "Glad you're getting some enjoyment out of this."

The panther's master, however, was not so amused. "You're not taking this seriously," Lockhelm's reprimand echoed through the empty room when he approached.

The lords and ladies had retreated back to their manors weeks ago, long bored of watching the princess stumble over herself. It only made the sessions slightly more bearable.

"Of course not." Maizie's answer was quick and flat. She wasn't the one that had demanded these morning routines. "Can you not tell her such long training hours are unnecessary?"

Lockhelm extended a hand and pulled her up with ease, "Her highness only-"

"Are we finished for the day?" She had heard enough excuses defending Vita's decision.

The Captain's grip tightened around her wrist with impatience. "No," he finally answered, "we are not."

It was an effort not to groan. All of this training would be ultimately useless for Maizie. Her rising anxiety made the nights longer, an exhausting mix given the early mornings. But if the past couple weeks had taught Maizie anything, it was not to push the new Guard Captain. The extra hours tacked on to her training at her more recent attempt of evasion had shown her that well enough.

She was just so sore.

Maizie wasn't a warrior, had never once trained for such, and she could have sworn Lockhelm pushed her all the more for it. During the first week, she hated the Guard Captain for what he put her through. For the aches, the bruises, the constant sore muscles weighing her body down with every movement. Eventually, she accepted that he was just acting on the queen's orders, too. Sir Lockhelm was Captain of the Guard; he didn't get a choice anymore than Maizie did.

The only difference was, Maizie could rebel and get a slap on the wrist.

Anyone else wound up in the gallows.

So when her trainer pointed to the seats where Maizie knew she was about to receive a lecture, she kept the complaints to herself and limped over. Once plopped down, the Guard Captain bent over and commanded, "Hands."