Princesses Don't Fight in Skirts

by Aya Ling

  “Where is Celestine?”

  Instead of their elfin instructor, the first year students found a burly middle-aged man. At sight of him, Lance started and shrank back. Georgiana’s eyes widened and she also stepped back, instead of keeping in the front of class. The rest of the students looked surprised, though none of them reacted like Lance and Georgiana.

  “What’s wrong?” Ari asked.

  “He’s my father,” Georgiana whispered, darting a frightened glance at the man.

  “Quiet!” the man said, sending a glare at them. “I am Sir William Greenwood—if you didn’t already know—and I am here to substitute for Celestine. She has gone back to the elves’ dwelling for a visit.”

  “For how long?” a student asked.

  “A month, probably.” Seeing that the students looked disappointed, as though they preferred her presence, Sir Greenwood scowled. “The elves’ dwelling is far up north and takes at least ten days of travel to and fro. A month is reasonable.” He walked briskly to the far end of the court. “I assure you that you are in capable hands. I have competed in archery contests since I was a boy, and I have won enough placards to cover a wall.”

  Greenwood stopped at the number nine, the furthest of all. He drew an arrow from his quiver and fired.

  The first arrow hit the edge of the bull’s eye squarely. A few students looked at each other and raised their eyebrows. Considering that he had bragged of his archery skills, the arrow should have hit the center instead.

  However, when Greenwood released the rest of the arrows, a murmur of approval and awe ran through the crowd. His arrows had formed a neat circle around the bull’s eye—a circle so round and perfect that a painter could have used it as a blueprint.

  Applause broke out in the audience. Even Ari clapped without thinking.

  Satisfied, Greenwood walked back to them. “Now, I want everyone to line up and practice. A hundred arrows at least, all of you. I shall walk among you and correct your posture and stance. I expect that by the time Celestine returns, all of you have progressed to the next line from where you’re used to standing.”

  When Greenwood passed Lance, he raised an eyebrow. “Still at number five, eh? I thought with the practice you had, you ought to be at least at number six.”

  Lance mumbled something incoherent. Greenwood dealt him a stern look. “No excuses. If you want to get your shield like everyone, you had better put in the effort.”

  He reminded her of Great Aunt Matilda. Ari decided that she didn’t like him.

  Yet she didn’t want to slack off in class either. Despite her dislike of Greenwood, she wished that she had the skill to impress him. If her detention with Celestine was longer, she might even be at number seven now, along with Marcella, Boris, and the few other top-performing students.

  Greenwood paused when he came near her. “Are you Princess Arianna? Lady Matilda’s great niece?”

  “Yes.”

  Greenwood drew his brows together. “I had expected more from you.”

  Ari faced him squarely. “I only had one archery lesson before I came here.” She thought she was doing well enough.

  “Hmph.” Greenwood moved off. Ari began wishing that Celestine was back. Even though the elf was indifferent, at least she was not insulting.

  By the end of class, Greenwood called to Georgiana. “A word, Georgiana.”

  “What did he say to you?” Marcella asked, once Georgiana joined them for dinner.

  Georgiana huffed. “He asked me when I was going to give up.”

  “How encouraging.” Ari sliced into a piece of pork and grimaced at the greasy juices. “I wish Great Aunt Matilda would say the same to me. I’m perfectly ready to give up.”

  Marcella frowned. “But George, are you not from a renowned family of knights?”

  “Male knights, you forget. Women in my family always become court ladies. He still thinks that I’m just in the Academy for fun.” Tears sprang in Georgiana’s eyes. “I’m not! I want to choose a different path that’s more interesting! Even though I tell him that Lady Matilda and many other princesses are doing great deeds, he says that they are the minority and I shouldn’t waste time trying.”

  “Then prove it,” Marcella said. “Get your shield. Then he cannot refute you.”

  There was a long pause. “You’re right, Marcella!” Georgiana picked up her fork and knife and started cutting with more force than necessary. “I’ll have to work hard enough to show him it’s not the minority who can be warriors. I’ll get my shield in five—no, four years!”

  “Good.” Marcella poured a cup of water and handed it to her. “We will pass the annual ordeal together.”

  “Right,” Georgiana said happily. “Ari?”

  “Oh... er...” Ari pretended to be interested in her salad greens.

  “I thought you were getting serious about training. Don’t you want to receive your shield?”

  Across the table, Lance was still picking at his food, his expression gloomy. Ari remembered Greenwood admonishing him in front of class. Here was Georgiana, desperately wanting to be a lady knight but meeting disapproval, while Lance, who didn’t seem to care much for fighting, was told to work harder. The irony.

  She wondered when she could leave the Academy. Although it had become more endurable, now that she was used to it, she still longed for the day she could be released.

  One evening, just after another grueling exercise, a towering figure came up to Ari.

  By now, her senses were much sharper and she whirled around instantly, alert and ready for a surprise attack.

  Howard the Giant, whom she hadn’t seen for weeks, stood behind her, a sheepish grin on his face.

  Lady Matilda has sent you something, Princess.

  And he handed her a long, narrow, knobbly package wrapped in leather, along with a sealed letter.

  Wordlessly, Ari took the things, wondering what the old lady had in mind. The package weighed heavy in her hands.

  “Er... thank you, Howard. How is my great aunt doing?” After all, she couldn’t completely forget her royal etiquette.

  Somewhere in Makani. I hear sea monsters are in season now.

  “Sea monsters in season? Urgh. You make it sound as though they are fruit in the market.”

  “You mean those with three heads and have a neck three stories high?” Georgiana suddenly asked.

  Howard nodded.

  “That is so incredible! I wish I could also be there!”

  Ari rolled her eyes. She really had to introduce Georgiana to Great Aunt Matilda one day.

  The giant turned to go, though he did not leave without a final signal to Ari: Good luck with your training, Princess. You appear to have changed.

  Ari carried the package and letter back to the sleeping quarters, with Georgiana trailing excitedly behind her. Marcella was already in the room, changing into a fresh tunic for dinner.

  “Ooh, I have a feeling that this is going to be good,” Georgiana said.

  “Perhaps she’s sending you the head of the sea monster,” Marcella said, eying the package with great apprehension.

  Ari let out a shriek and dropped the package. She did not want to encounter a mutilated head, monster or not.

  “Piffle!” Georgiana said. “What use would a monster head be to Ari? Boil it for dinner? I hear that sea monsters’ flesh can cause consumption problems. I say it’s more likely to be a weapon, probably something really strong and powerful.”

  Luckily, Georgiana’s prediction was correct. A sword rolled out from the leather packaging.

  “This looks old,” Marcella said.

  Ari agreed. She had expected that her great aunt would send her something more befitting a warrior-in-training. The handle was worn, there were spots missing in the paint, and the blade itself was dull, probably hadn’t been sharpened for years. “You can’t even cut bread using this sword.”

  “Not Rivieran bread. It is too tough,” Marcella said. She still wasn’t used to the coarse brown
bread they had for breakfast.

  “Do you think she sent it by mistake?” Georgiana said.

  “Or perhaps she figured I couldn’t be trusted with a sharp one.” Ari privately thought that she would prefer a blunt sword. Even with her improved skills, she did not think she could handle a sharp weapon. She’d be in constant worry of cutting herself instead.

  Still, she wished that the sword had looked, well, newer. Her love for fashion and beauty was not limited to dresses.

  Then she remembered the letter. Passing the sword to Georgiana and Marcella, both of them eager to receive it, Ari picked up the envelope and broke the seal. A piece of parchment fell out.

  Arianna,

  I’ve been informed that you finally came to your senses and are adapting to your Academy life. I assume that by this time, you will be starting lessons in sword play soon. For this reason, I enclose the sword that I used when I was at the Academy myself. It may seem old and worn, but it is stalwart and suitable for beginners. Many a worthy foe has conceded defeat to this sword and so I expect that you will handle it well.

  Sea monsters have been raging in Makani and I am called to share my expertise. If the battles do not prolong, I shall make a visit to Riviera in the near future. Until then, stay strong in the training.

  Great Aunt Matilda

  “How perfectly splendid!” Georgiana was looking over Ari’s shoulder. “To think that Lady Matilda is sending you her own sword! Who knows, you’ll probably be able to learn a lot faster with it!”

  Ari put a hand on her forehead. “It’s an ugly sword.”

  “How can you say so? Well, if you don’t want it, I’ll be happy to accept it. I can just imagine the others’ faces when they see it...”

  “Besides, it can fetch an ex—excruciating price,” Marcella said.

  “Exorbitant, maybe?” Georgiana said.

  Marcella looked crestfallen. She had probably spent a lot of time memorizing the word.

  “Er, I think I’ll have it,” Ari said hastily. Not that she suddenly found it worthwhile to own her great aunt’s sword, but that she dreaded what Great Aunt Matilda would say if she did not use it. Ari was sure that the old lady would not appreciate having her gift passed off to another, especially since she wrote that “I expect that you will handle it well.”

  As Great Aunt Matilda had predicted, Ulaf changed to sword work in their staff lessons.

  “While the staff comes in handy when you don’t have a sword, it will NEVER cause as much damage as a sword does!” he boomed. “So stand up and watch, you lazy buns, and watch carefully! Failure to control your strength can result in a serious injury.”

  Boris raised his hand. “Are we practicing with... these?” He indicated the pile of blunt swords Ulaf had brought to class.

  Ulaf narrowed his eyes. “You consider yourself a master swordsman? If so, then come up here and prove yourself. If not, then you’d better get used to practicing with a blunt one! I am not responsible for any serious gashes or lost limbs should you be careless. Mind you, there have always been records of students cutting themselves.”

  Ari shuddered. She still remembered her first sword lesson, which had resulted in her whacking her ankle and hopping around in pain.

  Ulaf began teaching the moves. He demonstrated, had them practice, and walked among them to inspect their postures and angles.

  “More strength, Princess of Linderall!” he yelled. “Wait, is that... Matilda’s sword? The one she used during her attendance here, forty-five years ago?”

  “It is!” Georgiana answered, before Ari could say anything.

  “Well, you had better live up to its reputation! Matilda defeated our teacher when she was still a pupil here, using this sword! And mind you, our teacher, the great warrior Beo, was no weakling. He had taken out quite a few monsters himself before coming to Riviera.”

  “But that’s impossible!” Georgiana said, aghast.

  “Oh, yes, it is true, just look up the records in Darwar’s office! Beo did not take her seriously at that time, so he was not fighting to his best abilities, but still, it is seriously impressive that Matilda could better her instructor.”

  Several pupils, including Georgiana, had already heard of Great Aunt Matilda’s duel with Beo, and therefore were not surprised. However, most others, whose knowledge of the lady warrior was limited to her battles with non-human monsters, were open-jawed with shock.

  Ari gripped the sword more firmly, which suddenly felt ten pounds heavier. Despite feeling a teeny bit proud that someone so accomplished was related to her, Ari couldn’t help feeling annoyed at her great aunt. Why did they expect her to live up to Great Aunt Matilda’s standards? It was impossible.

  Still, Ari practiced hard. Despite the difficulties, she could not afford to be lax with sword work. Even though they used blunt ended swords in class, a wound was more likely to leave a scar than a punch. She did NOT want her face, which she had painstakingly kept as delicate as a white lily, to be marred by an ugly blow.

  One evening, when most students had gone to dinner, she chose to practice by the lake. Georgiana had wanted to train as well, but she had caught a cold in the morning and was ordered to rest, despite numerous protests. Ari and Marcella had to threaten to lock her in the room if she didn’t take care of herself.

  “How are you faring?”

  Ari whirled around, her sword held in front to shield her body.

  There, leaning against a tree, was James. Long bangs shielded his eyes, but Ari could see that the corners of his mouth curved upwards. His pet squirrel Brucie sat contentedly on his shoulder, nibbling on an acorn.

  “So you’ve decided to take the training seriously, rather than run away?”

  “Not really. But I have to at least stay alert to avoid any punches to my face. No makeup can sufficiently cover up a blackened eye.” Ruefully, she related the incident with Boris.

  He started to laugh. “Ari, you’re priceless. I’ve been at the Academy my whole life, and you’re the first person to train for such a unique reason. Does your great aunt know?”

  Ari didn’t remember giving him permission to say her name with such easy familiarity, but it was impossible to snap at him when he was smiling like that.

  “Others weren’t sent to the Academy by their formidable great aunt,” Ari said, readjusting her grip on the sword. “Now, please excuse me, I have some training to do.”

  James suddenly stood up, shooed Brucie off his shoulder, and approached her. Ari almost stepped back in surprise.

  “You can improve your grip by positioning your fingers like this,” he said. “Here, give me your sword.”

  Ari tried to imitate his grip.

  But somehow she couldn’t get her fingers to bunch around the sword exactly as he did.

  “No, you should move your thumb so it’s nearer the hilt.” He put his hand over hers and arranged her fingers until they were in the correct position. His hand was large and warm, and she found herself wishing that he wouldn’t remove it. Weird. She usually detested a boy’s touch.

  “There,” he said, retreating to the tree. “Try an upward swing.”

  Ari executed the swing, and it was smoother and more fluid than what she had been practicing before.

  “It does make a difference,” Ari said wondrously, doing another swing. She was actually so pleased at the improvement that she turned and gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you so much!”

  Rays of the sun gleamed on her hair and shoulders, framing her face with a soft golden glow. Even though her face was devoid of makeup (all her face powder had been destroyed by sweat), even though she was wearing a wrinkled tunic smudged with dirt, her bright smile was mesmerizing.

  For a moment, James stared at her.

  “Is there something wrong?” Confused by his reaction, Ari pulled out her pocket mirror and checked her reflection. She looked terrible.

  “I have to go back and change,” Ari said, mortified. He must think her an eye sore. “I’ll see
you around!”

  And she grabbed the sword and hurried off before James could stop her.

  “Wait...” The prince shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t see why she had to run off like that. Do you, little chap?”

  The squirrel merely nibbled on his acorn and dribbled a few bits on James’ shoulder.

  Seven: A Good Dress is Hard to Find

  “Ari?” Georgiana bounced into the room, her arms full of filmy lavender material.

  Ari was doing sit-ups on the bed. Her eyes widened at the sight of Georgiana’s bundle.

  “Do you mean... is that my...”

  Georgiana shook out the bundle and held up the dress. “Here it is, fully mended.”

  Ari promptly launched herself off the bed. Upon closer scrutiny, she found that both sleeves of the dress had been cut off from the elbow, replaced by pale pink half-sleeves of an elaborate openwork design, embellished with tiny pearls.

  “I can’t believe this,” Ari muttered, running her fingers over the openwork fabric. She had assumed her lavender dress would be ruined, since the damage done to the sleeve was irreparable. But with the new pink half-sleeve, it looked so exquisite that it was hard to imagine the dress had ever been torn.

  “That is some tailor you have,” Marcella said—an unusual compliment from the Tintagel princess, who usually scorned dresses and makeup. “Where does he work? He should be in the palace.”

  “Exactly. I want to thank him,” Ari said, hugging the gown to her bosom. She was so happy that her gown was restored, and even improved than before. “I’d gladly give him a handsome reward.”

  Georgiana coughed. “Oh, just a tailor in our family. Don’t worry about it. So Ari, I suppose your problem is fixed now? You have a dress for the ball!”