It was early July, and Master Throm found himself buried in a pile of paperwork. He had to update the character sheets for every one of his students and, on top of that, the entire dojo was having its decadal evaluation by the city civil servants. As difficult as the former was, Master Throm truly understood the importance of that process to the ongoing training and placement of spiritualists throughout Dorflich. But the latter, Master Throm was simply at a loss to understand. Without understanding came doubt, and with doubt came frustration. Master Throm knew this easily enough—six decades of hard life tended to do that—but found accepting it much harder.

After almost a bell sitting at his desk, he reached both hands far behind him, stretching with a deep groaning noise. “Virgo,” he shouted and heard the shuffling of quick steps behind his office door before it opened.

“Yes, Master Throm?,” asked a scrawny, bespectacled young man.

“I need to take a break. Please have a pot of tea brought to the front room.”

“Yes, Master Thr—,” he heard just before the door shut as Virgo ran off to the kitchens.

Master Throm hauled himself up, and stretched out the leg he had been sitting on. While it had been fully healed, that leg had been gruesomely injured decades ago and had thereafter developed the strange requirement to be sat upon whenever Master Throm was in a chair. This desire did nothing for the loss of blood flow and stiffness that would accompany same, but Master Throm had over the years found those symptoms easier to deal with than with the unremitting demand to be crushed.

Satisfied with his stretch, Master Throm made his way out his office door, down a short hallway, and into the front room of his dojo. There were several short tables, and Master Throm sat cross-legged in front of his favorite, the one near the window where he could look into the sparring yard. It was late dusk now, and the courtyard was empty, but the changing light from the setting sun made for a pleasing sight nonetheless.

Virgo came out of the kitchen door just a minute later carrying a pot of tea, and a cup, which he went about setting on the table. Just as he did so, there was a knock at the front door, and Virgo hurried off to answer it.

After the old door creaked open, Master Throm could hear Virgo ask, “Good evening, sir, may I help you?”

“Good evening,” the stranger replied, “could you tell me if either Samantha Finke or Vince Zutautas are present?”

“No, sir, they are not here today. May I take a message?”

“No, that’s quite alright. I’m actually here to see Master Throm.”

“Master Throm? Do you have an appoint—”

“Virgo,” Master Throm called out as he got up, “I’ll come to the door, don’t worry about it.”

As Master Throm approached the door behind Virgo, he saw over Virgo’s shoulder the stranger in question. It was an older gentlemen in very good quality clothing: a brown duster over a blue-and-white uniform, and a Raptor skin, fur-lined hat. He had a steel staff slung across his back.

“Good evening sir. My name is Master Throm. To whom do I owe the pleasure of speaking?”

“My name is Evert Kallstrom. I’m a spiritualist and was hoping if I could bother you for some of your time. I understand that you’re the foremost staff user among the City’s dojo masters.”

“Yes, certainly, I was just about to sit for tea. Would you like to join me?”

“That would be very kind, thank you.”

As Master Throm and Mr. Kallstrom sat back down at the table, Mr. Kallstrom unshouldered his staff, took off his hat, and set both down to his right. Virgo came back just then with a second cup, and Master Throm poured them both a cup.

“I confess you have me at a bit of a disadvantage Mr. Kallstrom. You seem to know a great deal more about me than I do about you. Would you mind telling me a bit about yourself?”

After taking a sip of tea, Mr. Kallstrom replied, “Well, I am from Dorflich originally. Grew up outside the City, though I ended up traveling abroad for many years. I’ve recently come back to the City after suffering a bit of an injury, and am recovering here. I am, as I mentioned, a spiritualist and I was trained extensively in the use of the staff as a weapon.”

“Ah, I am sorry to hear about the injury. But it is good to meet another practitioner of the staff. I am hardly the greatest in the City, but I do usually subscribe to the accolade as best among the dojo masters. That said—”

Master Throm fell silent as he examined the appearance of his guest.

“Is something the matter, Master Throm?” Mr. Kallstrom asked.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“Huh? Ah, my apologies Mr. Kallstrom, my eyes must be playing tricks on me. I thought for sure you were an older gentleman like myself, and yet looking at your features, it is obvious you are quite young.”

“That’s quite alright Master Throm. I’ve heard similar comments several times already in Dorflich. Perhaps it’s something in the water.”

“Perhaps.”

“Nonetheless, I am hopeful to consult you on my staff techniques.”

“Well, I can certainly try. What is it that you had in mind?”

“When I was completing my training under my first master, he told me that when I had reached the limit of my own self-study, to return to him for one final lesson. Regretfully, I am unable to do so, yet, heeding the spirit of his words, I thought to seek you out.”

“Curious Mr. Kallstrom. I grant similar words to my own students when they leave the dojo. The hope that, when they stall, I might be able to push them one last time to true mastery of the weapon. I do not know your master if he was outside this City, but I must imagine he had a similar intention. Hmm…” Master Throm thought deeply for a while. “Virgo!” Master Throm called out, and, when Virgo’s head popped out, “fetch my sparring staff. The good one.”

Turning back to his guest, “If I may, I’d like to suggest that we have a short spar.”

“That would be quite acceptable.”

“While we wait for Virgo, may I examine your staff?”

“Please do, though I caution it is but a simple steel staff. Regretfully, my greater weapon was lost some time ago.”

Running his hands along the metal of the staff, Master Throm saw that it was indeed just a simple steel staff. The metal was of good quality, but there was no outstanding feature of it. When Virgo returned, Master Throm and Mr. Kallstrom made their way to the sparring courtyard.

Master Throm and Mr. Kallstrom set up a few meters apart and began without a word but with the understanding that Master Throm would have the courtesy of pressing the attack until he had landed the first blow. Master Throm began with certain beginner forms which were so basic that they had no name. It would not do to embarrass a guest (or himself) by launching into anything too complicated to quickly. As Master Throm and Mr. Kallstrom exchanged and blocked blows, the sounds of their staffs striking each other lit up the night. Click. Clack. Click. Click. Clack.

This went on for nearly fifty strikes when Master Throm transitioned into certain intermediate forms. These were called Striking Rat, and were not only characterized by an increased tempo, but also for its tendency to exploit the opponents defenses for quick strikes to the head. Mr. Kallstrom responded with a set of forms Master Throm was not familiar with but they served as a perfect counter, and the sounds of the staffs striking each other lit up the night, faster. Clickclick, clickclick, clickclack, clackclick, clickclick.

This too continued for nearly fifty strikes when Master Throm transitioned into an advanced form known as Rushing Shadow Baboon. These were, it had to be say, even faster in tempo and was known for sacrificing defense for even greater opportunities to strike across the opponent’s torso. Mr. Kallstrom responded with yet another set of forms Master Throm was not familiar with, but that again served as a perfect counter, and the sounds of the staffs striking each other lit up the night, faster. Clickclackclick clickclickclick clackclackclack.

This too continued for nearly fifth strikes when Master Throm transitioned into his personal mastery form. He had never taught it to another, and so it had gained no name, yet, if it had a name, Master Throm was always partial to Ruby Divine Starlight Blow. These were, it had to be say, even faster in tempo. Master Throm had designed it for its near perfect balance of defense and offense, and had every trick he knew of exploiting the opponent’s forms. Mr. Kallstrom responded with yet another set of forms Master Throm was not familiar with, but that again served as a perfect counter, and the sounds of the staffs striking each other lit up the night, so fast they were no longer distinguishable. Thwruck. Thwruck. Thwruck. Thwruck.

This continued for nearly one hundred and fifth strikes when Master Throm stepped back. And the courtyard fell to silence.

“There is nothing I can teach you. Your defense was flawless across the forms. Even my master form you countered flawlessly in a way I had never seen nor imagined. It was such an exemplary showing I suspect that you have many other forms of a similar caliber and even greater caliber. I bow to you Master Kallstrom.”

Mr. Kallstrom remained silent at this and appeared troubled. He came to me for a lesson. I must show some interest in him, Master Throm thought. “Tell me, do you intend to stay for long?”

Mr. Kallstrom’s eyes jerked up to meet mine. “In Dorflich? No, not long. Perhaps a year or two.”

“There may be many spiritualists here who are stronger than you, but I feel confident in saying there are but few with the mastery over their weapon, of any kind, that you show over the staff.”

“Mastery?” Mr. Kallstrom scoffed. “Not mastery. There are yet greater heights to reach,” he nodded to himself, then looking up again, “My apologies for wasting your time Master Throm. But I believe I should be going now.”

Master Throm watched as Mr. Kallstrom hurried across the courtyard into the dojo’s front room. Taking a leap of faith, Master Throm called out to him one final question.

“Have you reached one of the pillars?”

Mr. Kallstrom paused at the threshold to the street, and turned his head back to Master Throm. “Yes, at least one.” Master Throm thought he was about to leave, but Mr. Kallstrom just stood there for several heartbeats. “I had reached two, but I was, as I said, recently injured and am recovering, and so only one remains available to me right now. Good night Master Throm.”

Sighing, Master Throm turned his attention back to the courtyard. Two pillars? Boarwash. I do not take kind to being mocked; reaching a pillar his age would be legendary; reaching two would be impossible. Still… “How did he block those last few strikes from Ruby Starlight,” he mumbled under his breath, waving his staff around in the air as he recounted the spar. As he did so, his eyes drifted upward and he caught the glint of the moonlight off of blond hair on the roof of the dojo.

“Sam?” Master Throm cried, “What are you doing up there?”

“I’m sorry Master Throm,” Sam replied, “I came up here to watch the sunset after dinner, and then I fell asleep, and next thing I know, I heard you sparring with that man. Who was he?”

“He said his name was Evert Kallstrom. But, truly child? I don’t know.”