Spike awoke to the sounds of clanging. “Aaah, whuh?” He pulled himself, bleary eyed up out of the bed, looking down off of his bunk, the blur receding from his eyes, when another round of clanging made him wince.

“Ow, Jeez what is that?” He heard from the bunk across from him, as Smolder pulled herself out of her own bed.

“Whaddya think it is?” the loud voice rang from the little rail between them, where Garble stood with his old sword and shield. “It’s time to get up!” He smashed his sword into his shield.

“Shaddup!” Smolder said, throwing the nearest pillow at him, which bounced off of him harmlessly. “It’s too early for this!”

“I already let you sleep in late, it’s like almost lunchtime.”

Spike turned himself to the clock in the room, which he could see was somewhere in the late morning. He stretched, his muscles aching.

“So what? We don’t have anything to do today,” Smolder yelled down at her brother.

“We always have something to do, Sis! We got a tower to climb.” Garble stormed around mostly in place, his frustration showing in emphatic swings of his hands as he looked around as if searching for support.

A groan came from the covered lump from the bunk underneath Smolder’s. Well, really, the only decent bed in the room, with all the others moved in or built up at low cost, just to have somewhere for everyone else to sleep. “I’m up! I’m up,” Sandra said, trying to pull herself up, her hair in all directions so early in the morning.

“You don’t have to get up,” Smolder said, actually getting up herself. “We’re not doing the tower today.”

“How are we supposed to get up the tower by not going up it?” Garble looked to Sandra, eyes pleading for her to see his way.

Sandra worried her fingers through her hair, trying to tame it even as she replied in a bit of a mumble, "I was going to talk to my spirit tutor. Smolder was going to do the same. Spike was going to find one for the divine lord."

"Where do I even start?" asked Spike with defeat in his voice. "I'm not against the idea, but is there some kinda list somewhere I should be looking at or do I just shout in the guild and hope someone's listening?"

"Ugh, fine, so go talk to whoever, then we go to the tower." He thrust his sword in the direction of the tower, visible outside the window, looming over the city silently. "We are not letting a whole day go to waste."

"Bro, love you." She put a finger right on his nose. "But I'm a breath away from saying something really nasty to you. I am not going today. That is final."

"But--"

"Shhh." She rubbed her finger on his nose. "No more talking. Sandra, want a bite?"

The two girls left together, leaving the boys behind. Garble scowled at Spike, the only one left to receive his anger. "You gonna flake out too? Ponies insist on nice big breaks like a bunch of pansies?"

"What? No!" He hopped to his feet, suddenly dressed for adventure as his chain called forth his gear. "I just want to do it right. You don't want me messing it up, yeah?"

Garble poked Spike in the chest. “You’re right. I don’t.”

“So… um…” Spike sat, rubbing his armor where he was poked.

Garble cast a glance back. “So get goin, you’re the one who’s looking for a trainer, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Spike said. “You do know that if I do find someone, I probably won’t get much advice… just today, right?”

Garble half growled half whined, grabbing his head in frustration. “Fine, whatever, just get going!”

Spike groaned, grumbling as he pushed past Garble, off to the city proper.

Watching him leave, Garble growled to himself. “I bet that pansy’s not even gonna find someone today, and we’re stuck with more stupid delays for the tower. Argh!” He punched the wall, the wood buckling under the force of his dragon might. He snarled at it, knowing that someone is gonna come by and be angry with him. “Dammit!” He stomped out of the guildhall, not looking forward to that.

He fumed his way through the streets, his goal exactly one place. The Arena.

There was a fight going on, he could hear the cheers. He could hear the crash of metal on metal, the boos and shouts as the crowd roared their emotions with every move. For just a moment, Garble felt a little smile coming on. In the arena, everything made a crystal clear sense.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"What are you doing here?"

Garble came up short, seeing his mentor sitting on a box. "Hey. You look ready for a spar."

"Do I?" He slid to his feet despite the lack of urgency in his words. "What gives you that idea?"

"You're not watching the fight." Garble hiked a thumb towards the source of the fighting sounds. "And you're not getting ready for a fight yourself. You look bored. Let's fight."

"You look ready to lose." He hadn't drawn his blade, yet it was out, its tip at Garble's chest and held firmly in his hand that had been so calm a moment before. "You move without rhythm, your every step a discordant scream of agony."

Garble hopped back, drawing his heavy blade along the way. "I came to fight, not talk."

"Then don't talk. Sing with your blade." He closed the distance with smooth steps that didn't raise or lower his body, as if he were floating closer at frightful speed. He spoke no words of song, requiring none to hold the dance of blades in his heart.

Garble snarled into a smirk, and brought his sword in a clean arc, which reached his assailant first.

The felisurra man pushed off the ground, one of his feet touching Garble’s sword for just a moment, and his other foot came straight into Garble’s face. He reeled back at the impact, and the warrior came down with a slice catching Garble’s shoulder. Garble backed up hastily, trying to stab outward with his sword, which was bat away by his opponent, who closed the distance again, Garble narrowly evading.

Garble spun, bringing his blade up. Saying nothing, he tried to will it to come crashing down with a lightning (or, well, a frosty) blast. Instead, his blade caught the side of his mentor’s, being slid to the side of him. Garble retreated a few steps with a low growl. If his sword had done it’s thing that would have been a hit. He did it in the tower!

The man pressed his attack, striking with powerful fluid motions, trading blows with Garble, and it was all Garble could do to keep up. He growled and raised his sword into ready position. “Teacher or not, my rhymes run hot!” He brought down his blade, the crackling frost blast brought down alongside it, his teacher parrying it similarly, but the frost clinging to his side.

“A new trick, I see?” His mentor’s eyebrow went up. “Skills may--”

Garble snarled and backed up, interrupting his mentor with a spin. “It’s not a trick, I’ll hit like a brick!” His frosty blade slammed into his opponent, who had already brought up his sword in anticipation, bracing the tip with his other hand, far away from his body.

Garble growled with labored intensity and brought his sword back onto his mentor, who was already ready for him. In a frenzy, he slashed and slammed at his mentor, no hits making any marks.

“Look at this flailing,” the felisurra said. “What frustration is this now? You need to slow down.”

“No I don’t!” Garble shouted, slicing wildly. “Slowing down isn’t who I am!” He cut. “I am pride.” He slashed. “I am passion!” He brought his sword up. “I won’t be decried, my rage won’t be ashen!” He brought his blade down, it’s frost crashing down with it. However his mentor had already sidestepped the attack.

The dark feline eyes bore into Garble’s skull as he glared at his mentor and said, “I thought you respected that.”

Those eyes flashed in a moment of anger, and he slid his sandal across the ground, knocking Garble’s blade aside. “I see no pride here.” He sliced across Garble’s body, faster than he could recover. “I see no passion either!” His second strike was still faster than Garble. “I see confusion!”

“Discordant rhythm.” He slashed one handed at Garble, who finally managed a defense. “Frustration and delusion.” He gripped his sword with two hands, bringing it back down. “Waves crash uselessly.”

"You don't get it!" suddenly shouted Garble, not coming in for an attack. "They're all on my case! I got them all sweet upgrades and you'd think they'd be ready to go, but no! No they were not." He emphasized each of the last words with a stomp of a foot. "Now they're just bein' more lazy than before."

His mentor darted in, knocking the blade aside and carving a fine line along Garble's leg so thin barely a trickle of blood came from it, but the pain was enough to send him back with a hiss. "You allowed that cut. A wave once started must fall. Tell me more and fight."

Garble broke into an uneven laugh. As painful as that had been, the sharp slash had, perhaps, brought a moment of clarity. "You're on."

“There’s this girl.” He brought his sword up, slicing a simple controlled cut. “She hates Sandra. Constantly puts her down, and puts me down for being in her party.” He pressed on. “So we’re supposed to be catching up to her on the tower, but my teammates have stopped after just one day!”

"The sun rises bright." He caught Garble's blade and threw it aside, sliding along to the exposed side. "The fresh sapling of discord." The next strike was caught, Garble managing to swing his blade around just in time. This brought a smile to the feline instructor. "Tell me of success."

"There was a stupid, what was it…" He ducked under a strike and lashed out, managing to bash his teacher's chest, though it was more like a push than a strike with the way the hit was received, sending the felisurra floating backwards. "Genie! Right. A genie, gave me a wish for getting to it, which the others weren't doing by the way."

His mentor landed on the ground, bringing up his sword in a ready position.

Garble continued. “So I got us all new equipment! So what if the genie was a liar and gave us the wrong stuff, we still got it all forged into new hotness!” He came in, bringing his sword down, being blocked by his mentor. “And they were telling me to stop, the whole”-- He slashed, as fierce was it was wild-- “damn”-- their blades met, a bright spark flying on impact -- “time!” He swang wildly, his mentor stepping out of range. Garble panted, bringing his sword up again.

"And what did you learn?" asked the mentor, not attacking, not dancing. Just a simple question, hanging in the air, his blade lowering. "The fierce wind howls against trees. But what did it learn?"

Garble thrust his sword, not at his mentor, but deep into the ground. "That stupid people get mad when you give them junk they don't want!" He glared as if expecting comradery in his plight, but slowly it seemed to dawn on him. "Oh… yeah, maybe a little that." He thought back. "This one time, Spike brought me a gift, I hated it… He worked really hard on it too…"

"Tell me of this time." He smoothly slid his sword into its sheath, taking no special hurry in the act. "Raven flying over us, some things mystify." His tone changed, the combat completely over. "If it could have granted any wish, perhaps they would have preferred to speak on such a heavy matter."

"That's just slowing things down." He wrenched his blade free, dirt flying, just to slip it onto his back. "Like we are right now."

"A little delay can shorten the trip," noted the felisurra with a feline smile. "They are preparing, in their own way, to race all the faster, are they not?"