The training fields were sparse with people so early in the morning. Sweat ran down Derek’s brow as he moved his feet in line with his saber. His steps were quick but stilted at times when he switched between the last form and the first. His focus was only on where his blade and body were. He was focused enough that he did not notice someone behind him.

“You are far too stiff. You are moving between forms in a hurry instead of on time. Do I need to bring a metronome out here to help you?”

Derek dropped his sword and looked over at the old man.

“Did I say you should stop? Keep your feet moving. Your swings should be fluid. If you need to we can move you back to footwork exercises and sword swings separately. Only when you have mastered them separately then they will be combined. I know you see the other students over there in the corner of your eye. You are progressing just fine. Comparing yourself to them does little good. You are not them and they are not you. They have their own challenges that are not yours to deal with.”

“Thank you for the lesson.”

“Ha! I am just getting started with you boy. You’ve been working on your sword forms for what? An hour. Sheath your sword and I want to see your feet dance. Keep a steady pace. I want you to imagine yourself at the tournament. You remember the one. It is coming around again in six months. You were just in the stands, but you saw the semi-finals and final matches. There were a few different styles shown. One from this very school. Do you remember it?”

“Yes.”

“You know the first two forms. Show me the first. Last year the contestant in question went on to win his qualifiers and went up to the semi-final round before losing and placing third. Now as you take the same steps he did let me show you how he impressed the judges enough to earn third place. You see even though he lost he did it with enough precision and style that he was given the award for third place and his opponent went on to win first place.”

Derek had set his sword aside and held in his hands a dull wooden sword for training purposes. It of course did not have the weight of his normal sword. Derek brought the sword up to his eyes and then to his side to begin the technique demonstration.

“Presenting the forms in this matter is difficult for some students. They can’t imagine in their mind’s eye the opponent in front of them. They need to have something tangible to strike at, but it limits them because opponents are never still. Every living thing twitches and breathes causing movement. Only when you strike your opponent dead are they stopped. You need to learn to control your movements so that you can be precise and consistent when needed and become confusing and unknowable when needed.”

“I see you still hold too much weight on your right leg.”

Derek felt his foot slip as his mentor said the words. He drop his sword and landed on his hands. He was quick to get back up.

“Sorry for my poor performance. I work improving it greatly,” said Derek.

“Enough of that. I want to see you swing your sword not grovel about how much better your sword swinging could be. What you need now is a training partner. Someone who can punish you a little when you make idiotic moves while training. Your right foot may be slower than the other and you will have to deal with that issue and turn it to your advantage during fights. Pick up your dulled blade. We shall trade a few blows.”

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A blade slid out between the robes of Derek’s mentor, and he brought it to a 45-degree angle. He waited while Derek collected his sword resting on a rack. He recognized the stance his mentor took and prepared his own with his right foot planted in front of his left. His chest was rotated a bit so that he was not presenting as much of his body to be attacked.

Derek attacked first. He was weary of his feet as he shuffled forward and searched for an opening. His mentor deflected and sidestepped. Derek pivoted to be in line with his mentor and swung again. His attack was parried and then a counterattack followed.

Derek blocked and leaned back. They continued to trade blows as they moved around the area designated for fighting. His mentor pushed back on him and forced him into the corner on two occasions and Derek realized some of what was being done. He almost fell near this point when he was forced to move around the edge of the marked area. He had to take bigger steps around his mentor while not losing his footing. He focused on his footing as his mentor pushed him into the corner a third time.

His steps were measured and much smoother as he spun around his mentor while keeping his guard strong. As he pivoted and had stability unlike the previous times Derek swung at his mentor’s side.

“Good job Derek.”

His mentor brought his sword down in the shape of a ‘J’ and deflected Derek’s blow once again. With another flick of his wrist, Derek’s sword spun out of his hands and into the dirt.

“I was wondering when you were going to realize what to do. But as usual, you forgot to do something while focusing on something else. I could have poked you with my sword a few times back there while you were stuck. Your guard was faltering a bit more than I would have liked. Go rest for a minute, get some water in yourself, and then call Nate over here. Let us see if you can remember everything I said then. Maybe once he beats you up a bit will you know how to properly place your feet.”

With a nod, Derek left the field and hurried to get water. He passed several other groups sparring and he ignored them. Near the fence lay a few barrels filled with water for the students to use. He grabbed a ladle and drank up several large cups fills until he was quenched.

His next stop was nearby the water stations. He spotted Nathan training on his own and called him over.

“John requests that he watches us spar over in my section of the field. If you could spare a few minutes and join us that would be great.”

“I won’t hold you and him up. Lead the way and we shall spar.”

Derek led Nathan over to his section where his mentor patiently waited.

“Hello mentor John. How may I be of assistance to the two of you?”

“You two will spar. Keep him on his toes and keep the pressure on him. No need to pull anything fancy but I won’t mind things if it comes to that. Let your attacks be firm but not punishing as you go. Put on one of the vests and get started when you are ready.”

Derek faced Nathan differently than in his last sparring bout as would be expected. He had fought with him a few times and knew the style but had rarely won. Derek kept his saber low and kept his knees loose and ready to pounce. When mentor John said ‘start’ he launched into action.

His strikes were low, and he focused on pushing forward while keeping his body low until he pushed upward with his sword when attacking in major ways. He also deflected the blows by sidestepping and sweeping his feet around. Derek held the grip on his sword tight so as not to lose it like last time.

Derek focused on predicting where the next attack might come from, and he was successful most of the time. After a few misses, he was forced back and used other ways to dodge the blows. As he fought he had a growing sense of unsureness. His body moved counter to his thoughts. The attacks and defenses felt preplanned and thought out. A sword fight he had performed two years ago. One that should now only reside in his memories.

With that realization, the scene slowed and then faded. Derek found himself lurched from the training field and make into the present reality within the dungeon. He blinked rapidly and stumbled until he found his footing. It was in these moments of settling back in did he realize where he was.

“I am on the 23rd floor of the dungeon,” said Derek.

“Indeed, you are. I am glad you made it,” said James. “ I was wondering if any of you were going to wake up because I am not sure the others are going to be joining us any time soon.”