A Guardian's Ascension (Chapter 6)

The metaphysical doorway sparked shut behind her, and Sophia found herself standing on the literally-surer footing of the Citadel’s white marble-smooth inner lawn once more. She hadn’t really taken notice of the stark contrast in this constructed terrain compared to the uneven hilliness of her frontier homeland until this very moment, as the once-rolling slopes of grassy earth that surrounded her village now felt akin to patchy underfoot lumps formed in sand which might impede one’s progress, when traversed too quickly. It was strangely comforting, then, to be able to march with greater confidence across the polished expanse of the Guardians’ courtyard, unbothered by the chance of tripping, though these palatial quarters had begun to feel more like a “home” to her anyway over the past months, despite Sophia’s initial reaction of slack-jawed awe when arriving here for the very first time at her natural-born height.

Even standing at over five hundred feet tall, though, the Citadel still impressed Sophia each time she took in its ancient and soaring architecture. The complex of walls and wreathing progressively-taller spires that made up the Guardians’ home was utterly humongous and indeed beautiful, but neither was it overly grandiose or designed to sparkle with obvious opulence, as were so many fortresses belonging to monarchies of smaller-statured persuasion. To return now to the Citadel and feel as though she was more “comfortable” here, compared to the once-familiar place she’d been longing to visit almost since the moment she left, only contributed to that gnawing pit which had already taken hold of the newly-tested warrior’s insides.

She’d done it. She’d taken the oath, she’d trained hard, she’d answered the call when it rang out, and her duty was served. No more would foul-breathed monstrosities threaten the lives and livelihoods of the people dearest to her in the realm. At last they would all know nothing but security, peace, and prosperity forever. So why, then, did she feel this way?

“Congratulations are in order.” Sigrid’s formal yet velvety timbre echoed from across the courtyard, causing Sophia to turn. Her combat trainer was marching toward her from beneath one of the eighty-story stone archways, as was Nemora closely behind her.

“Oh. Thank you!” she replied, smiling genuinely even as the same unnamable worries clung to her. She reverently planted her battle-spackled shield and blade atop a nearby bench, then waited patiently for her two primary mentors to reach her. “But I just got back. How did you know I-”

“Please, don’t insult me. I personally taught you the craft of that sword. Do you really think I look upon my talents so lowly as to presume you’d done anything but succeed?” Sigrid answered curtly. For a moment, Sophia’s heartbeat paused, before she cracked a smile. The stately-serious Guardian’s desert-dry humor was occasionally hard to catch upon first hearing, but she was getting better at noticing it now.

“Believe me. Not a soul in this place believed you would do anything but succeed with the most marvelous flying colors,” Nemora enthused, as usual more willing to wear her optimistic emotions on her sleeve. As the other two giantesses reached the center of the courtyard too, she wrapped her arm around Sophia in a hug: a calming gesture the greenest Guardian hadn’t realized she was missing until just now. But then again, an ordinary embrace with anyone from the life she used to know would’ve been greatly altered, if not impossible. With a wink, Nemora added: “Well, I suppose as of only a few moments ago, there is one soul among us who felt that way. But, I have a good feeling “she” will come around very shortly.”

“Of course,” Sophia agreed, a little sheepish. In retrospect, it did seem almost ridiculous to believe that she possibly couldn’t have stopped what amounted to an annoying infestation of pests. She cleared her throat, still smiling at her mentors’ encouragement, but was nonetheless relentlessly nagged by that curious feeling of indescribable spiritual defeat she’d taken not from the battle but its aftermath; it was certain now that she couldn’t just hold this inside indefinitely. Yet it felt even more ridiculous now than doubting her dragon-taming abilities to imagine asking these two legendary realm-defending figures before her for the proper etiquette when her village was about to cause its own famine by feeding her a seemingly mandatory celebration dinner. So she kept it to herself. “I… want you both to know, that any uncertainty I might’ve felt in the past is no more. I am confident, and I am ready, to be of service to my people. When I fought for them today, I felt no doubts.”

Sigrid and Nemora nodded, apparently pleased, then exchanged the most fleeting of glances.

“And after you fought for them?” the gentler Guardian followed up.

Sophia visibly winced. Was she really that transparent? Or, more likely, were Sigrid and Nemora just that perceptive. She idly clutched a piece of armor across her chest, stroking her finger back and forth over the gilding, trying to find the right words.

“I… was very glad to see my people safe,” Sophia answered truthfully. “And what’s more, I am prepared to stand for them again, so that they remain so. I was thinking, after I have cleaned my armor and weapons, I could walk out to the western meadow, and practice my-”

“Such eagerness!” Sigrid interrupted, then made a noise that caught Sophia wildly off-guard, until she realized it was the first time she’d ever heard the hyper-stoic giantess laugh aloud. Her towering six-hundred-and-two-foot-tall combat tutor tenderly cupped those strongly fingers beneath Sophia’s chin, scrutinizing the younger Guardian’s well-intended stone-faced determination. Sigrid bobbed her head in affirmation, then shared another look with Nemora, who made an expression that Sophia couldn’t read, though in it she saw contemplation and even sympathy. “Your dedication is admirable. None, certainly not I, who have watched you grow here could ever question your conviction. But, you will not train in the field today.”

“No?” Sophia questioned, worried now that she’d perhaps overcompensated.

“No,” Nemora agreed with a smirk. “You will come with us, you will partake of refreshment, and you will learn that everyone, including each of us who calls the Citadel home, must have occasional rest.”

Minutes later, Sophia was seated comfortably between Sigrid and Nemora at a table under the lustrous high ceilings of the Citadel’s refectory, which had always reminded her so distinctly of the wooded mead halls found in certain villages, though naturally the Guardians required a gathering space of more considerable scope, and with far more sunlight allowed to spill in between the pillars dotting the walls. Wine aged over a thousand years was poured between three goblets, though as delicious as the libation was, an appetite-lacking Sophia had almost forgotten to take a sip until Sigrid pushed it under her chin. Grateful for her mentors’ attention, since no Guardian she’d met was exactly the sort to engage in much revelry post-battle, Sophia gulped deeply from the rich elixir, somewhat hoping now that a drink might help quell a few of her lingering nerves over the village’s responses. Unfortunately, that bottle would only last so long.