Vilya sits down on a chair and leans back, her gaze at the ceiling yet far beyond it. She has on the expression of one who has been pulled to her memories.
"I was trained to fight, almost from birth. After my childhood ended, there was not much beyond weapons training, and some basic training in the arcane arts, for me. My parents wanted that I'd become a bladesinger...
Do you know what a bladesinger is? It's a tradition of the elves where I come from... The art of blending arcane spellcasting and skills with either a longsword or a rapier.
The rapier was the weapon of my choice back then, I favored the graceful way of fighting over the more tedious that came with the longsword. They said I would've become the best...
But that wasn't so hard. Later I had to struggle, even fight, to live. But not against an adversary I could've won with a weapon, for I was fighting against the harsh desert. I survived, and now I think that any fight with an enemy I can see and defeat with my scimitar is an easy one."