The next day rolled around and the sombre tone set throughout my room. The curtains had been wafted shut so almost no light penetrated the crammed room. I stumbled out from the comfort of the bed that enticed me to linger there helplessly and began changing into my clothes.
“I wonder if a message would have already been sent to this inn? Surely he would have finalised the time approximately. Let’s go grab breakfast and head out then.” I grumbled to myself in a rough voice, still operating on only fifty percent capacity resulting in the deeper reverberations in my tone.
I had casually stepped down to the ground floor where the food was served and where you could book your place. The lively chatter ensued with the natural commotion of the guests. No one really looked at anybody else and people pleasantly indulged in the company of the people they sat with and the replete set on their respectable table.
The decor was entirely made of wood with fancy chandeliers made from some sort of black stone hanging from the ceiling and illuminating the gathering of people. The tables and stools though not expensive, looked appealing and were modest, filling their purpose which was so people can dine at them. A mixture of scents fanned across the room varying from the food being prepared in the kitchen towards the back and the cigarettes freshly lit at the windows that unfortunately seemed to only diminish the strong scent rather than be rid of it completely.
I gave a relaxed sigh and followed the line that slowly reduced at each shout, alarming everybody, making their ears perk right up, that sounded “Next!”
Finally reaching the front of the queue, I had to adjust my head slightly upwards to face the woman standing in front of me, eyeing me with a fierce aura around her.
“Did your mum ask you to order for you? Get a lost kid and bring her over here!” Spit flew from her large mouth as she snapped at the innocent child in front of her.
I remained in a fixed stare, gazing into her monotone hazel eyes as I spoke. “My mother is dead.” Her face slightly flinched at my comment and almost looked apologetic, but then she was about to scream something again. Anticipating her thoughts, I quickly spoke again. “My father is also dead. He isn’t wallowing and drinking and forcing me to get the food for him.”
Her face once again flinched, however this time settling into a calm face, which was a much larger improvement that the one before.
“Sorry, kid. So what do you want to eat?” She asked with a still progressively threatening tone.
I sighed in her face and replied. “An omelette will do and yes I have money.” Her imposing figure shrunk once more as I answered her question before she could even raise it up.
“Ok, that will be three Silver Percy’s.” Her large, oily, grubby fingers reach out in open in front of me, egging me to slide the money to her. I complied, fishing for the only silver I had left.
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“Thank you, I’ll call you over when it’s finished. Anything else?”
“Just bring it to me, rather than calling me over. That will be all.” I gave her a small smile and left a gold Percy before I walked away, heading to the receptionist's desk.
The man at the desk casually twisted at his curling moustache whilst jotting down something on paper with a quill hovering over it. His eyes sharply raised to meet mine and his smooth eyebrows rose. “Need anything?”
“I was wondering if you have had any messages directly sent for the name Swordspell?”
“As a matter of fact, we did. I assume that’s you sir, since you’re inquiring about this?” I agreeably nodded my head to his words. “Let me just fetch you the letter. Ah, here it is.” He finally revealed himself after submerging below the counter searching through all the draws. He slid the letter under the window that separated us and I collected it swiftly.
“Appreciated.” I nodded to him, turning around and searching round for a smaller table near the corner of the room. I eventually took my seat and tuned out of the noise. I slid the envelope of the letter open and turned the rough paper.
Dear Swordspell,
I am writing to you as promised, through a letter though, rather than a simple message. I felt it would be considerate to someone who has acclaimed such fame in a short amount of time. Anyway, moving on from the unneeded conversation, I have managed to free up some time at around midday. Please head to the guild at the time and announce your arrival to me at the front desk. I still do not understand your intention for such a bout, but I am more than curious about you as well and intended to realise many things about you throughout the short time. In due’s time, I will see you soon.
Your sincerely, Lloyd Glader
“How classy and so unnecessary. I still hate how he talks, even in letter format.” I muttered under my breath.
After finishing my meal, I had some time to spare so I went out in the near proximity of the mountains to do a little bit of stretching and hunting. Humidity hovered in thick fog and swallowed the imagery around me, leaving only the wet, damp and cold floor below me in my vision. The jagged exterior arranged beneath me hindered my progress and the shallow pits filled with murky water slowly crept into my worn shoes, increasing their weight.
My breath smoked and rose to meet the rest of the effluvium. I reached for the sword at my waist and pulled it out. The sound of the blade leaving its shelter rang out clearer than most days and sent incomprehensible shivers down my spine. My face relaxed and my left palm traced over the edge of the sword.
“I suppose I should work on my form again. I still am a bit rusty.”
Since leaving my parents in the place of our old house, I hadn’t worked on my mana much. In fairness, at times, my mana feels restricted, like another force is intermittently colliding with my mana and disrupting its natural flow. So instead, I had garnered all my attention and culled any unnecessary effort from magic into form, retraining myself in all the martial arts I know of. Today was once again such a day where I would devote time to the martial art of the sword. Saint Sword Style.
See, there are five main Sword styles in the world and each trains other weapons in the same way as the sword with variations. First was Magic Sword style. As the name implies, this style focused on the use of magic to reinforce the sword resulting in obscure and crazy combinations that created arguably the most extravagant sword style present.
The second was the Armoured Sword style developed by the Draconic practitioners of the blade. The focus on reinforcing the weapon and body with mana and tempering arts and teaching defence with quick counters. It is an extremely effective sword style that is used by some of the strongest people to ever live, including the current reigning monarch of the dragons, Lord Fafnir.
The third was the Saint Sword style. Developed by the Elven practitioners that later were spread throughout including the capital up on our soaring nation. The saint sword style focuses on effective forms used without wasting unnecessary movements. The practitioners using this particular style hone their moves to become more precise, faster, stronger and deadlier.
The fourth style is the Puppeteer Sword style. Arguably the hardest sword style of them all that focuses on the ability to lure and direct fights into situations that will serve the practitioner. Every sword stroke is littered with intent and they study a person's stance, how they react, thinking patterns, habits and utilise all of that to perfectly predict and control their opponents next moves, limiting them onto a single stage that they think is the whole world. They take basic sword strikes as well as the odd illusion magic spells to dominate their fights and manipulate their desired outcomes.
Finally, you have the King Sword style. A sword style based on the practitioner's will and intent, guided with absolute strength and speed as well refined strikes. It is simple to learn, but only true inheritors of the King philosophy can truly wield a weapon in this sword style.