"When your castles of sand crumble into the ocean, will you stand by that which you held in splendor, or will you fade like the beautiful lie you lived in?"
| As far as things went, this had probably been the closest Amaya had ever come to something that could be deemed treasonous. Of course, her status as a commoner meant her actions were virtually invisible in different nations, as was her opinion of the system in it's entirety. If anything, however, that only fueled her disdain for the idea of fate. The systemic nature of her family's expectations was nothing but a glorified prison, and if they chose to leave her behind, then they had forfeited their right to shove her into their unrealistic and disgusting cage. Still, she refused to trust in the supposed hospitality of Reim. She had brought everything, from her plethora of throwing knives, to the bladed scarf that adorned her armor, and everything remained hidden, tucked into unseen folds and pockets that lined the inside of her cloak. The soft fog of her breath clouded the air before her as she stepped into the pre-dawn chill, departing from the sanctuary of the inn. The wrinkled sheet of parchment in her hands contained a name, a teacher of sorts, although his connection with the military was undeniable. A former soldier and an ex-gladiator would be especially hard to convince, but she needed the information and she needed to improve. Her weakness was crippling, and if she could overcome it, she would do so, regardless of the risk. Amaya wasn't sure what served as the starker contrast to the dim silence of the morning, the bright lights streaming from the doors and windows, or the obnoxious sounds of armor and weaponry clanging together. It was no surprise this building was given a rather wide birth by the rest of the facilities. That, and the fact that it also had to accommodate several sand pits for what Amaya could only assume was sparring. She would wait, she decided. It was still rather early, and the more people she was required to deal with, the more effort she would have to exert to gain what she wanted. Her patience was rewarded rather swiftly, as the men inside began to file into the pits to wrestle, practice sword play, and just spar. She counted only 8, which seemed like a rather small number, but in fairness, the building was nowhere near the size of a martial school. She stepped from her perch on the stairs that lead down towards the school, her body utterly silent as she approached the door. With a gentle rap, she waited patiently until the door was suddenly thrust open before her, a rather irate looking old man standing already with a mug of ale in his hand. "Whaddaya wa- huh? A woman? Did they send someone for me already? Shit I haven't even gotten through my first ale. Tell that slime bag at the brothel that I'll ha-" Amaya cut him off, her words blunt. "I'm here to ask for instruction, but I can see by your habits around alcohol that I've come to the wrong place. I'll take my search for Master Ardus elsewhere." She turns, moving only a step from the door before his hand clasped her shoulder. "Now listen here, you little shit. I may be old, and I may like my booze, but you'll be damned if I'm going to let some scumball from Kou insult my livelihood, even if she is a small woman. Why don't you turn around and face me like a man, and let me see for myself if you're any bit the big shot you act like?" She turns, her expression utterly neutral, as she delivers her words. "I have no time to waste on semantics and pleasantries. If you're going to insult a woman who is effectively committing treason to improve herself, I think we're both very clear on your opinions. I came here because I despise what my country is doing, and I despise their relegation of my life to that of a trophy. I can find someone else if you're unwilling." She meets the man's stare head on, with equal ferocity and determination. "You just gonna stand there, lady, or are you gonna give me your name and come inside?" She nods, watching his frame move back into the chair. "Amaya. My name is Amaya." The old man stared at her, a swig from his cup leaving his face soggy from the ale as he sizes her up. "You're rather on the small side, aren't you." His scarred fingers tugged at his beard as he sat in consideration. "Alright, I've got an idea." He puts his mug down, standing from the chair as he pushes to the window. He motions out the window for someone to come over before turning back to the woman. "We're going to have a contest. If you can learn and adapt well enough, I'll teach you. If not, you can go back on your search for someone else." He takes another swig of his alcohol. "All you'll have to do is force my student to have his shoulder touch the ground. That's it." He chuckles. "No weapons, no tricks, and you have until sunset, got it?" Amaya nodded, before taking her cloak off. The heave garment, laden with hidden throwing daggers clattered onto the table, her scarf soon following. "Armor too, girlie." She huffs, ditching the protective metal. Stripped down to a shirt, her wrappings, and a bare form of pants, she stared back at the man. "So the entire point is just for me to make a singular shoulder touch the dirt?" He nodded, "You got it, Now get to it." |
MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS - EDITS BY ANGELO OF SAO-RPG