The cold steel from Linoor Coriol’s blade cut through the warm night air as she moved through a series of practice stances on the roof of the White Birch. She moved as one with her gauntlet sword at hand, dancing with her first and most intimate partner beneath the glow of voleons flying above. Her toes pivoted deftly across the dusty stone roof beneath her feet, kicking up pebbles and sand with each turn.
After finishing her final warm up pattern, Linoor closed her eyes and remembered.
Her first championship at the Rolakkhad Youth Tournament. Robert Gelden, a princeling from the eastern provinces and the favorite of the tournament, stood in front of her smiling confidently. He thrust recklessly and she deflected just enough to step in aggressively. His eyes flicked low but caught her move too late to react as she slid her sword forward, tapping his helmet with a loud clang. Victory by first touch.
Her first fight with a Master. A middle-aged woman with short brown hair held up a practice sword and bowed. Linoor returned the gesture before launching into a flowing series of attacks from the Oriandel series. She caught a smile from the woman as she deflected or dodged each attack, taking advantage of a break in the chain to make her own counter attack. She feinted left and leaned low. Linoor recognized it from the Oriandel series. She moved to defend high from the incoming strike, but was tapped in the leg.
“When both fighters are masters of their craft, the real battle is won in the mind,” she reminded Linoor.
Her graduation exam to Master rank. Linoor stood before her teacher, the captain of the royal guard. Both were garbed in only plainclothes, swords in hand. In her most challenging battle yet, Linoor employed a textbook example of Oriandel-Mifune style against her opponent’s Soft Step defense. She chased her teacher across the ring, both straining to keep up with the speed of the battle as Linoor inched ever closer. A loud clang rang out as the two blades clashed in complete opposition - something that shouldn’t happen in the Soft Step defense - and suddenly the captain was on the back foot. Linoor pushed her advantage, slashing gently against her captain’s chest and revealing a red hole in his shirt. Victory by first blood.
Linoor shadow dueled her memories across the roof until her hair was plastered to her forehead in sweaty disarray.
Her most recent engagement. A chaotic battlefield unfolded as a group of Greys joined the existing fight against another squad of roaming Greys in Riverstop. Linoor fought at the eastern edge of the defensive formation. She spun past the reckless swing of a Grey, kicking up the dust of his fallen comrade as she moved, and cut through him effortlessly. Before he hit the ground, the sound of footsteps alerted her to the rear, and Linoor spun quickly, gathering the Grey’s desiccated and decaying features in her mind before extending her blade toward its neck.
“Whoa, hang on!” Shouted Ardenel, instantly breaking Linoor’s concentration. She opened her eyes to find the confused nobleman standing at the end of her sword with his arms up.
“I told you not to interrupt my practice,” she huffed through ragged breaths.
“Sure, but I got bored in my room alone. It’s not like I can go outside without my bodyguard,” he retorted. He sat down on the edge of the roof and looked out over the glowing bazaar to the south. “These flying lizards, the ones that only come out at night and glow green and blue, what are they called again?”
“Voleons,” Linoor answered. “The green ones are male, and the blue female. They are native to Danet.”
“They’re awfully beautiful. I wish we had them in Havan. Maybe we did, until we hunted them to extinction. Who knows?” Ardenel mused. He was in a strange mood tonight. Usually he regarded Linoor as nothing but a fixture at his arm, like an ornamented sword.
“Perhaps,” Linoor answered, wary of engaging in conversation. During their past month together as they traveled from Capira to this Yasha-forsaken wasteland, she had grown to hate any time spent with the man. She wiped the sweat from her face with the woolen towel she had brought and let the silence hang in the air uncomfortably. Ardenel stared out over the dark expanse beyond the inn’s parapet.
“Am I a bad person?” He asked suddenly. Linoor stopped with her towel covering her face but didn’t answer. “Should I have told those scavs about the excisor that awaits them?” He continued.
Finally, Linoor relented and answered. “Yes, I think you should have. Even if you do not care for them, ‘failing to prepare is preparing to fail.’ They are your support, and should be given information as such.” Her father would be proud that she had so faithfully quoted a line from Tactics.
“I wouldn't have guessed someone as young as yourself had read Tactics,” Ardenel quipped, clearly recognizing the quote. Linoor couldn’t help but smile at getting caught, and realized it was the first time she had smiled in all their time together. Ardenel turned back from the edge of the roof but did not look Linoor in the face. He crossed his arms before continuing. “Thank you for saving my life at Riverstop three days ago. If it weren’t for you they’d be sending my body back to my father in a box right now.”
Linoor was speechless. It was the first genuine conversation he had offered her in all their time together - and a humble one at that.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“‘A capable bodyguard is often the thin layer between life and death,’” was the first thing that came to mind.
“The Ethics of a Rolakk Ruler. Why do you quote old books all the time?” Ardenel asked.
Linoor sat cross-legged opposite Ardenel on the roof of the bone white inn. “My father made me read them until I had memorized them when I was younger. That was how I spent my time when I was too sore to hold my sword,” she responded.
“Ah, the strict, yet deeply disappointed father. I know that all too well,” Ardenel said. “Did I ever tell you why we came out here on such short notice?”
Linoor shook her head.
“I guess I’ve only really barked orders this past year, haven’t I?” He sighed deeply before beginning his story. “The day after my twenty-first birthday, my father brought me to his drawing room. It was well into the day, but it was my first waking, and I had a pounding headache from the night before. He pointed to the portrait of his great-grandfather that hangs above the hearth in his drawing room, and asked me if that man would be proud of where his family was now. ‘Yes, father, of course. You’ve done an incredible job elevating us to the highest position in all of Rolakkhad.’ Only now do I realize he was asking me to assess my own behavior. Two days later, without consulting me, he announced that I was headed to Danet to make a name for myself in the harsh, unexplored land. At least he lent me your services as a gift before my leaving.”
The two sat on the roof quietly for a time, watching as the glowing voleons flew lazily through the night sky above them, illuminating the rooftops, tents, and covered wagons below in a soft green-blue hue.
“He thinks I’m a stain on the family history, Linoor. If I had died pitifully at Riverstop, he would have been correct.”
Linoor looked at the nobleman with new eyes now, feeling pity for the exiled heir. It didn’t excuse his past behavior, but his story helped to explain it. In fact, it wasn’t all that different from her own past.
“My father was nearly a champion duelist in his youth, before a horseback incident ended his chances. That meant that I needed to succeed where he could not. Training, morning to night, sometimes over fifty hours a day. Reading the foundational texts when my hands would no longer close around the hilt of my sword. ‘A honed sword is an exceptional tool, but with a trained mind it becomes an expression of the soul.’” Linoor said.
“Artenel: The Young Master. You know I’m named after him, right?”
“That’s why I chose that quote,” Linoor laughed. “Eventually, I did see success. More than my father ever had. He became jealous, after a time. Drinking heavily. Gambling. Especially after my mother died. But, as the holder of his debts, you already know this.”
“Why don’t you run away?” Ardenel asked. “You don’t owe him anything anymore. You’re not even on the same continent! There’s not a chance I nor my family could ever find you if you ran through the passage to Temul.”
Linoor chewed on the thought for a moment. He had a point. She would be free to pursue her own life in a new state where nobody knew her.
“Despite his shortcomings, I still owe my father for where I have arrived. I would not be Champion Coriol if not for those brutal days,” Linoor answered. “This is the only life I know. I would be a very poor waitress,” she joked.
Ardenel laughed. “Yes, it’s usually bad manners for a waitress to break the fingers of a patron.”
“Even if he deserves it?”
“Yes!” He answered with another laugh. “Though that attitude makes for an excellent bodyguard.”
“I suppose it does,” Linoor said. “Your plan to return to your father’s good graces is to be the first man across the Barrier River?”
“Precisely,” Ardenel responded. “It’s why I must get past that excisor in Riverstop Keep. Afterward, everyone will know the name Ardenel Venit, not for his galavanting and womanizing, but for his intrepid expedition into Danet.”
Linoor wondered what her father thought of her now. Was her serving as a bodyguard making him proud, or disappointing him? Did his mind even function enough through the drink to understand what she was doing?
“Will you teach me the sword?” Ardenel asked suddenly. “I mean, I’m trained in the sword, but my teacher wasn’t even a Master. Now I have a Master right in front of me, and she already works for me, so I’d be a fool to give up the chance, right?”
Linoor stood up and crossed her arms.
“I do not seem to have a choice. You are my employer,” she said.
“No, no,” Ardenel quickly added. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I won’t order you around anymore; I owe you my life, it’s the least I can do. I’m only asking for my own betterment. If you refuse, I would understand.”
If he can fight on his own, my job would certainly be easier.
“I will teach you, but not tonight. We must return to our rooms and prepare to alight before dawn,” she answered as she checked her wind-up wristwatch. Sixty-two hours into the night. Ten hours until dawn. Eight hours until their boat launched down the Forked River.
Ardenel got up with a groan and covered a yawn with his hand.
“Yes, you’re right. I don’t even have my sword anyways,” he responded.
A quick shuffle on the other side of the door to the roof alerted Linoor, as she darted to it and drew her blade in one fluid motion. She threw the door open and caught a shadow disappear at the end of the steps.
“Someone was listening to us,” she said to Ardenel.
---
A short figure in a gray robe stood before Alastair, who lounged lazily across the couch in his room. A single lantern barely illuminated half of the room, casting long shadows in every direction.
“The bodyguard is the duelist champion Linoor Coriol. Her father is Tate Coriol, also of dueling fame, now in the employ of the Venit house. The duke sent them both here without explanation. If they are going to strike, this would be the time,” the robed figure said.
“Excellent information!” Alastair replied, flicking a silver crown to the person. “Sleep now. Your boat embarks in but eight hours, little one.”