[CENTER][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/241113/cc3457f779940522897a06e6cd8a6c3d.png[/img][/center][hr]It took a while for her to find an opportunity. She perused the dummies, the applicants, searching for people who were neither the most skilled nor the least, but rather those with something…else. Less discernable. She wanted to avoid people who were clearly favored for spots regardless of their performance, of which there were a few—herself, shamedly, not excluded—but neither did she want to propel someone who wasn’t ready for knighthood into a life of danger. It wasn’t an easy life, not everyone could do it. And even of those who could, many still [i]shouldn’t.[/i]

Eventually she meandered to the lesser populated dummies, where those of lower stock or from houses of little consequence batted at the dummies like cats at a post. Under the disappointed gaze of the instructors, most gradually dispersed. Only a few remained, and those, Ionna determined, were the kind of aspirant she was looking for. Unnoticed, unlauded, and undeterred. As deserving of a chance as anyone else in the courtyard. All she had to now was wait, and not for long, either.

There were distractions aplenty at the other dummies, be they for melee or archery. A thunderous crash, a small clamor as a particularly brawny aspirant obliterated his dummy and gave her the chance she needed. While attentions turned to the hammer-wielding lad, bless him, Ionna scurried over to the furthest dummy and drew her sword. A quick glance around to ensure there were no eyes upon her, and then…

[color=ed145b][i]It’s fine,[/i][/color] she told herself. [color=ed145b][i]Just one swing. You can handle one swing.[/i][/color]

Ionna tensed, felt a charge well in her chest, skitter across her skin and onto the blade. [i]Inhale[/i], and—

A thin crack, a keening electric squeal, and a click as her sword slapped back into its sheath, all in the span of a blink. [i]Exhale[/i]. The dummy still stood, the seam of her cut too thin to see without looking for it. 

[color=ed145b][i]See? Nothing happened.[/i][/color]

She jogged away as people began returning to their posts, but indulged herself a glance back in time to see one of the peasants square up to the dummy under the skeptical eyes of an instructor. He clutched a simple but well-kept sword in both hands, reeled back, and swung, perhaps hoping to chip the wood or carve a chunk off the body. When instead the whole dummy split in half, both the peasant and the instructor shared a look of surprise. The former inspected his sword like it was some ancient, blessed relic, the latter walked away much more impressed than he must have expected to. Ionna grinned. 

She was rewarded with a lovely display at the more populated areas. A red-haired girl made quick but expert work of one of the dummies with a sword in each hand. She didn’t catch as much of the swordplay as she would have liked, but what she saw was brutal, efficient, and utterly lovely. The style was unique, but the heart of it was familiar: wartime swordsmanship, the sort found in military families. On a proper battlefield, the girl would be quite a terror. 

When she was done, Ionna half expected her to salute the crowd and march away. Instead, she hopped down with the bounce and pep of a girl attending her first dance, and made a quick line directly for her. 

“[i][color=FFC0CB]Ooh! Are those Hahral date-sugar candies? I've never had one, can I try?[/color][/i]”

Ionna blinked, looked down at the bag in her hand, then smiled right back at her. “[color=ed145b]After a show like that? Help yourself![/color]” she said, and tossed the bag to her. “[color=ed145b]That was great! You really know what you’re doing, guess you’ve got nothin’ to worry about, huh?[/color]” 

Then she saw the sheaths, and the crests, and after a quick sifting through her memories of the Itenaian houses, everything suddenly made sense. 

“[color=ed145b]Ooh! Ariesca! No wonder—you guys really don’t mess around with this stuff. That’s awesome, I love seeing people dual-wield. Are the swords weighted differently? Are you good with both hands? Oh! Oh! Can you show me—can you do that part again, with the—where you like, you stabbed, and you blocked, but then you swapped and I don’t know how you—it was like…[/color]” 

And she tried to mime a small section of Lina’s display, gripping imaginary swords, pointing one hand forward and angling the other as if to deflect an invisible blow from the side. Ionna wished she had the mind for two swords, but her attentions were gobbled up by just the one—and her magic. Still, that didn’t stop her from wanting to learn. She’d figured that out early on into her apprenticeship; there was always someone who knew something you didn’t, and it never, ever hurt to learn.