The training hall was a cavernous expanse of polished stone, its walls etched with the faint scars of countless battles. Dim light filtered through high, narrow windows, casting long shadows across the floor.
The air was thick with the scent of sweat and steel, a testament to the relentless pursuit of mastery that defined this place. Tasha lingered near the entrance, her presence unnoticed by Baines, who stood at the center of the room, his sword gleaming faintly in the half-light.
His movements were fluid, deliberate, as if he were already locked in combat with an invisible foe. Tasha's heart sank as she watched him, a pang of inadequacy gnawing at her.
"Young lady," a soft voice broke her reverie. The servant bowed slightly in greeting.
