Chapter 289: The Duchess of Arches
The following morning, Sandoz rose before dawn, a thin blue light just beginning to leak across the horizon. The air was cool and heavy with dew, the estate still sleeping beneath layers of silence. He changed swiftly into his training clothes, cinched his belt, and slipped outside toward the grounds.
The courtyard, usually empty at this hour, was already alive with motion.
Lara was on the monkey bars—her silhouette fluid and controlled, a predator in motion. Her arms flexed as she swung and vaulted with the grace of a cat and the force of a soldier. She had insisted they be installed, and Gideon had obeyed. No one denied Lara much these days.
As Sandoz stepped onto the field, she caught sight of him, and without breaking rhythm, somersaulted off the final bar, landing in a crouch before rising in a single breathless motion.
"Ready?" she asked with a half-smile, already tossing him a practice sword.
They began with drills—strikes, blocks, footwork. Her movements were clean, precise, but never robotic. Sandoz struggled to keep pace, sweat blooming across his back. When she sensed his attention waning, she changed weapons—introducing arnis, then nunchaku. The shift brought excitement back into his eyes.
The sticks cracked with rhythmic intensity. The nunchaku hissed through the air, spinning in her hands like extensions of her own spirit.
High above, General Odin watched from his balcony, arms crossed, eyes narrowed with interest. The morning sun burnished the edges of his armor.
"Hmph," he muttered. "My old master was biased. Why didn’t he teach me that?"
Freya appeared beside him, her expression clouded with concern. "Aren’t you worried?"
"Why should I be?" Odin replied, eyes still fixed on his daughter. "Look at her. She’s made of fire and steel. No one dares bend her."