The training yard remained quiet long after William Rhys disappeared down the road.
Dust still drifted slowly through the air where the two swords had clashed moments ago. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the thin cloud of dust, creating pale golden streaks across the damaged ground. The earth bore thin cracks from the force of their strikes, and several wooden practice posts had been split apart by stray shockwaves during the duel.
Even now, the yard looked less like a place for training and more like the aftermath of a small battle.
Evan stood in the center of it all, staring at the marks left behind.
His heart was still beating faster than usual.
He could still hear the echoes of their swords colliding.Still remember how fast the two of them had moved.
To Evan, it had looked less like a duel and more like two streaks of steel flashing through the air.
The fight had ended… yet the intensity of it still lingered in his chest.
He slowly exhaled, trying to steady his breathing.
"That was… unbelievable."
Lyra calmly wiped her sword with a small cloth before sliding it back into its sheath.
Her movements were slow and deliberate, as if nothing extraordinary had just happened.
"You watched carefully, I hope," she said.
Evan nodded immediately.
"I tried to follow everything," he admitted, "but most of your movements were too fast for me to see clearly."
Lyra walked toward one of the cracked stones in the yard and gently tapped it with her foot.
The stone shifted slightly, scraping against the ground.
"That is normal," she replied calmly. "You are still at the beginning of your training. What you witnessed today was a duel between experienced swordsmen."
She glanced toward him.
"Your eyes are not yet trained to follow that level of speed."
Evan looked around the yard again.
The cracked ground.
The broken posts.
A deep mark cut across the dirt where William's sword had struck earlier.
It was hard to believe those had been caused by only two people swinging swords.
"Still…" Evan said quietly, his voice filled with genuine awe. "The way you fought him…"
He hesitated before finishing the sentence.
"It looked effortless."
Lyra tilted her head slightly.
"That is because I controlled the pace of the fight."
Evan blinked in surprise.
"You controlled it?"
Lyra nodded.
"From the moment the duel began."
There was no arrogance in her voice. She simply stated it like a basic fact.
She turned and walked back toward the center of the yard.
"Come here."
Evan stepped forward immediately.
Lyra bent down and picked up one of the wooden practice swords lying nearby. With a casual motion, she tossed it toward him.
Evan barely managed to catch it.
The sudden weight of the wooden blade pulled his arms down slightly before he steadied himself.
Lyra grabbed another wooden blade for herself.
"Show me the stance you practiced this morning."
Evan straightened immediately.
He placed his left foot forward.
Right foot behind.
Both hands firm on the grip of the wooden sword.
He tried to recall every small correction Lyra had given him earlier that day.
Keep the shoulders relaxed.Keep the balance centered.
Lyra observed him silently.
Her gaze moved slowly from his feet to his shoulders, then to his hands.
After a moment, she shook her head.
"Too stiff."
She stepped closer and gently adjusted his shoulders.
"Relax your arms."
Her hand moved down and she tapped his knee lightly.
"Lower your stance."
Evan shifted his posture, bending slightly.
His muscles felt awkward as he adjusted.
Lyra stepped back and studied him again.
"Better."
Evan looked curious.
"You said you controlled the pace of the fight," he said. "How?"
Lyra raised her wooden sword slightly.
"Sword combat is not just about attacking and defending."
She pointed the tip of the blade toward him.
"It is about controlling space… rhythm… and your opponent's expectations."
Evan frowned slightly.
"Space I understand," he said slowly. "Distance between fighters."
He hesitated.
"But rhythm?"
Lyra began walking slowly around him.
Her footsteps were quiet against the dirt.
Evan instinctively turned his body to keep facing her.
"Rhythm," Lyra said, "is the flow of combat."
She made a slow practice swing.
The wooden blade cut smoothly through the air.
"Attack."
She paused.
"Observe."
Another movement.
"Respond."
She lowered the sword again.
"Experienced fighters do not simply react to each other."
Her eyes settled on Evan.
"They guide the fight toward a pattern they understand."
Evan tilted his head slightly as he thought about that.
"So… like leading a dance?"
Lyra raised an eyebrow.
"That comparison is not terrible."
Evan grinned faintly.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Lyra continued calmly.
"When I fought William Rhys, he believed he was setting the rhythm."
Evan frowned.
"But you were actually controlling it."
Lyra nodded.
"If an opponent believes they control the flow of battle, they reveal their habits."
Evan thought back to the duel.
William's attacks had been relentless.
Powerful.
Confident.
But now that he thought about it…
Many of the strikes had followed similar patterns.
"You were baiting him," Evan said slowly.
Lyra nodded once.
"Exactly."
She stepped closer.
"So tell me, my prince."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"What did you notice about his attacks?"
Evan froze.
His mind suddenly went blank.
"…They were fast?"
Lyra sighed.
"That is not observation."
Evan scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"He used many downward strikes."
Lyra tilted her head slightly.
"Better."
She tapped his shoulder lightly with the wooden blade.
"Powerful attacks are often predictable."
Evan nodded slowly as the idea settled into his mind.
"So once you noticed that…"
"I guided the fight toward that weakness."
Lyra stepped back again.
Her posture relaxed, but her eyes remained sharp.
"Now raise your sword."
Evan lifted the wooden weapon again.
His arms already felt slightly tired from holding the stance.
Lyra met his eyes calmly.
"Let us see if you can understand rhythm with your body instead of your mind."