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Why had he thought she resembled his mother? Was it simply the armor, and his own memory imposing itself upon her face? Leandro didn't know. And yet, the dry impression she left in his mind kept resurfacing.
He wanted to see more and confirm what he felt. It was easy enough to learn where the imperial guard trained, and he went straight there.
Their skill was not poor. They even sparred against mages, rehearsing situations where they'd come under spellfire.
Leandro concealed his presence and observed. As they rotated through their drills, he quickly discerned the measure of each knight. Isabelle was easily the most gifted. She held a composure the others lacked, her stability overwhelming in comparison. However, she was holding herself back.
Whenever she began to stand out in sparring, she pulled her power down, as though pressing against some unseen weight. She wasn't holding back entirely, but she never went all out either. Her atmosphere was the opposite of his mother's, who had once laughed and sparred with her comrades as though it were a game.
The more he watched Isabelle, the more she occupied his thoughts. The next day, and the day after, he watched her again in silence.
On the fourth day, when she lingered alone, he approached. "Why are you...
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