Leora heard a grunt from the man as he made an attempt at tackling her into the freezing ground. Unsuccessful as she nervously sidestepped, which led the man with an impossible size of a barrel toppling unto the snow himself.
It was mid-winter, and she has yet to reach the capital before the season ends if she has hope at submitting an application at the Knight's annual selection. She was supposed to reach the borders of Haltan Mountain by sun down, if not because of the stupid man's untimely assault. She could've handled the man perfectly if not because of the thick snow-covered ground that seemed to eat her feet by each step.
The man got in to his feet and faced Leora with an even more ugly scowl plastered on his face. She tightened her grip on her dagger, preparing for his unpredictable move. The man held nothing but a metal rod the size of Leora's arm, equally calculating his next move that would take her by brunt force. Then he ran towards Leora, as if the snow on its feet was not a problem as it crushed beneath its weight, the rod ready to strike her. She was smaller compared to the man and though it was height that was one of her insecurities, she was nothing but thankful at the moment for she could use it to her advantage. With speed on her favor, she successful dodged the swing of force, sidestepping by mere inches from his body then pushed all force on her leg, kicking on the back of his knee.
Leora heard a satisfying crack of joint, but that didn't stop her from tackling the man as he was once again toppled on the cold ground. The man was big enough that he could whisk her away anytime, so, she wasted no time either as she grabbed the man's hair upwards and ran down her blade to the visible skin on his neck. The man was shocked that he could only manage to widen his eyes, and yet he knew he met his end.
Leora got off of the man's body. Easing herself for steady breath as the encounter left her almost running out of one. She could have used her gift, her 'little' magic but she was wise enough not to if she were to go on with her journey with enough strength. After all, she still wasn't trained in terms of handling her magic, nor proper training in hand to hand combat.
Wiping her blade soaked in blood into the moist of the snow, she picked her satchel up and continued her way to the almost invisible trail towards the borders, more determined than ever.
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King Hasdar rubbed his chin as he watched his councilmen bicker at one another. The issue of an absent Thalaz wielder had caused so much ruckus within the council for almost a month now. It was already 580 years since late King Saffro, the last wielder of Thalaz–the Kingdom's weapon gifted by the Goddess Fahlia herself.
Now, 700 years after, and there's still no light in finding this generation's wielder. The Royal Oracle Ameline received her vision of a warrior in possession of the great sword, yet, the details on who it might be and when the occurrence would take place was never mentioned. The council has been in total frenzy more than the past years upon receiving news about a large revolting group from the North. As if their plate is not full, an Imperial threat has reached their awareness, though, it was more of a gossip from the kingdom's South border than an actual news from the council's messenger.
If there's something fruitful from the council's outward bickering, it was coming to a decision of opening the Royal Knights' Annual Selection on the last days of the winter season. It was an unusual date since it was usually held at summer, but, they were hoping that whoever the wielder is, will submit an application. It was a rushed decision, but all they can do for the time being is to wait, and hope. Thardalle's period of prosperity and peace was slowly crumbling, only the power of Thalaz and might of its wielder can save them all.
