I’ve never been one for fancy breakfasts, but after a week in this castle, I’m starting to get used to the spread. The dining table is practically groaning under the weight of silver platters piled high with pastries, fruits, and what I think might be some kind of medieval bacon. The morning sun streams through the stained glass windows, casting rainbow patterns across the white tablecloth.
“Try this,” Brooke says, sliding a plate of something that looks suspiciously like blueberry pancakes toward me. She’s sitting so close our shoulders are touching, her warmth a constant comfort in this strange new world. “It’s got cinnamon in it. You’ll love it.”
I take a bite and my eyes widen. “Oh wow, that’s amazing.”
“I know, right?” Brooke grins, her blue eyes sparkling with that enthusiasm that’s been her constant companion since we arrived. “I’m telling you, the food here is way better than what we had back home.”
I nod, still chewing. It’s been a week since we pulled those swords from the altar, and honestly, I’m still processing everything. The queen insisted we take time to adjust, to get our bearings in this world before diving into training. It’s been nice, actually. We’ve explored the castle grounds, met some of the staff, and basically just tried to wrap our heads around the fact that we’re actually living in a fantasy world.
The door to the dining room swings open, and Morgana strides in like she owns the place. Her long black hair flows behind her as she moves, those vivid purple eyes immediately finding mine across the room.
“Good morning, heroes,” she says, her voice carrying that dark velvet quality that still makes my skin prickle.
“Morning,” I mumble.
Brooke straightens beside me, her posture shifting subtly into something more protective. “Morgana.”
“So,” Morgana continues, ignoring the tension in Brooke’s voice. “Today your magic and combat lessons start. Excited?”
“Very much so,” Brooke says immediately, her face lighting up.
“Yeah,” I add, trying to match their enthusiasm.
Morgana’s eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, I feel like she can see right through me, like she knows exactly how scared I am. There’s something in her gaze that makes me want to squirm in my seat.
“Don’t worry, Christopher,” she says, her voice dropping to that almost intimate tone she uses sometimes. “I’m an excellent teacher.”
“I’m not so much worried about learning magic as I am combat,” I admit, pushing the blueberry pancake around my plate. “I mean, I’ve never even held a sword before last week.”
Morgana’s dark lips curve into a smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t be concerned about that. Once you start training with your swords, you’ll pick up the basics quickly. Heroes are known for their ability to do at least that much.”
“Like a skill?” I ask, perking up slightly. “Like a natural talent or something?”
“I guess?” Morgana tilts her head, her purple eyes thoughtful. “I’m not really sure what it is. The records mention it, but they’re vague about the specifics.”
I nod, feeling a small wave of relief. “At least there’s that then.”
Brooke squeezes my hand under the table. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll be right there with you. We’ll learn together.”
“The servants will take you to the training grounds once you’re done with breakfast. You’ll get to meet your instructor there. Matilda Steel.”
“Matilda Steel?” I repeat. “What’s she like?”
Morgana’s expression shifts, her dark lips pressing into a thin line. “She’s... fine.”
“Fine?” Brooke echoes, her eyebrows rising. “That’s not exactly a glowing recommendation.”
“She’s the best combat instructor we have.” Morgana pauses, her gaze shifting between Brooke and me. “But she’d stand no match against me.”
I blink, not sure if I heard her correctly. “Wait, what?”
Morgana rises from her seat with fluid grace, her dark robes swirling around her like living shadows. “I’ll see you both for your magic lessons this afternoon. Don’t be late.”
*****
The training courtyard hits me like a wall of summer heat as we step through the stone archway. I squint against the bright sunlight. The space is massive, surrounded by high stone walls with weapons racks lining every side. In the center stands a pull-up bar, and hanging from it is a woman who looks like she could bench press a horse.
My jaw drops. She’s absolutely shredded. Her short, spiky grey hair catches the light as she pulls herself up, then drops down, then up again. Each rep is effortless, controlled, like she’s been doing this her entire life.
She spots us and drops to the ground with a fluid grace that seems impossible for someone so muscular. Her sharp brown eyes lock onto us, evaluating, calculating.
“Heroes,” she says, her voice gravelly and commanding. “Hello. I’m Matilda Steel.”
I’m still staring at her arms when Brooke lets out an exasperated sigh beside me.
“Why are the women we have to work with exactly your type?” she mutters under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear.
I give her an awkward side eye. “Nice to meet you, Matilda,” I manage to say, trying to sound casual despite my racing heart.
“Likewise, Christopher,” Matilda replies, her gaze shifting to Brooke. “And you’re Brooke.”
“Yes. Hello,” Brooke says, her voice tight with barely concealed annoyance.
Matilda’s eyes flick between us, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. “And you two are definitely lovers?”
“Yes!” Brooke snaps, stepping slightly in front of me in what I recognize as her protective stance.
Matilda raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. “I’m not trying to steal him. I’m only asking because up until you two were summoned, I was hoping to motivate the heroes through competition. That’s how heroes in the past were trained quickly.”
“I’m hyper competitive,” Brooke says, crossing her arms. “But Christopher isn’t.”
“That’s not true,” I protest, feeling a spark of indignation. “When we play Mario Kart, I get in the zone.”
Brooke opens her mouth to argue, then pauses, her expression shifting. “You know what... that’s true.” She taps her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm...”
Matilda watches our exchange with those sharp eyes, her lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Well, that’s promising. Competition can be a powerful motivator.”
I straighten my shoulders, trying to look more confident than I feel. “So, what exactly does hero training entail?”
Matilda gestures toward the weapons racks. “First, we’ll assess your natural abilities. Then we’ll build from there.” She moves with surprising grace for someone so muscular, picking up a wooden practice sword. “Have either of you ever held a sword before coming here?”
“Just the ones we pulled from the altar,” I admit, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
“Good,” Matilda says, tossing me the practice sword. “That means I don’t have to unteach any bad habits.”
She hands Brooke a matching wooden sword, then crosses her arms over her chest. “We’ll start with these for a few days, but we need to get you training with your real swords as soon as possible.”
I nod, feeling the weight of the practice weapon in my hand. It’s lighter than I expected, but still substantial. “Yeah, Morgana mentioned something about that. She said they’ll help us learn quicker or something like that.”
Matilda’s expression tightens almost imperceptibly. “Yes, that’s correct.”
“Morgana also said you’d stand no chance against her,” Brooke adds.
Matilda’s laugh is sharp, her teeth gritted together as she looks at us with wide eyes. “She said that?”
I watch as something flashes across her face, annoyance, maybe even anger, before she sighs, the sound carrying the weight of years.
“She’s probably right,” Matilda admits, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Morgana has quite the chip on her shoulder. Skill-wise, she’s probably the best mage in all the Holy Kingdom.” She pauses, her expression turning wry. “Which isn’t saying much, considering our magical standards have declined over the centuries.”
“But she’s stuck with her limited mana supply,” Matilda continues. “Merchant parents with no noble bloodline and all that. Even with that said, she’s smart. Resourceful. Even in my prime, I’d dread going up against her.”
I exchange a glance with Brooke, who looks as surprised as I feel.
“I’m a paladin,” Matilda explains, her voice dropping lower. “I have a sworn oath to the goddesses. Morgana isn’t limited like that. If you pushed her far enough...” She trails off, her eyes distant. “I think she’d resort to some truly monstrous things if she felt her life was in danger.”
The courtyard suddenly feels colder despite the bright sun overhead. I think about Morgana’s intense gaze. There’s something unsettling about her, but I hadn’t realized how dangerous she might actually be.
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Brooke says, her voice tight.
Matilda claps her hands together, the sharp sound snapping me back to attention. Her eyes narrow as she looks between Brooke and me.
“Alright, enough about Morgana’s magical superiority complex,” she says, rolling her shoulders back. “Let’s get to it. We have a lot to cover today.”