Three days left before the preliminary rounds of the tournament.

The brackets were not released until the day before. Guilford said that the organizers at the high courts purposefully do this so one cannot prepare too much for their opponent. They have to instead fight like it was their first meeting.

Training with Genny, Eryk, Guilford, and the others for the last four days did not do much for Lucian. He was defeated soundly each day and the next, and thereafter. If anything, he learned how much they were holding back on the first day. The group could not offer him much support outside of sparring. After all, it was a competition, and it would be foolish of them to spend so much time helping someone who could be an enemy on the day of the tournament.

There was one way he could improve his skills. A swordmaster, situated at the Red Quarter districts took on new students. All the other ones required you to be some high birth.

Mortis knew all about him and advised him he would only be wasting his time and money. ‘The man’s a drunk, and a disgrace to his family who banished him years ago,” Mortis said to Lucian.

As an outsider, Lucian did not particularly care of any of it, except the drunk part. He instructed Mortis to take him there, and Mortis did, begrudgingly.

The area was muddled with women around every corner. It was obvious what their intentions were.

“Hey, you seem like you want a good time,” or “I’ll make it extra cheap for you” were shouted at Lucian while he and Mortis traversed the streets of the Red Quarter district. When they had reached a small house attached to a Pleasure building, Mortis nodded to signal that this was it. Lucian knocked. No answer.

“Let’s just leave, Lord,” Mortis said.

Lucian knocked again, and on the second attempt, the doors seemed to open. It was not even fully closed in the first place. He went inside, and the first room that greeted him was a fireplace, with a table beside it and two seats. There was no one there. With the faintest of sounds being heard, Lucian made his way forward to the third room inside the house.

A woman screamed, and ran to the edge of the room, hiding behind a rack of clothes. She was, by all accounts, fully naked. A man with long hair and a trimmed beard lay on the with covers on top of him.

“Get the hell outta here!” he groaned to Lucian and Mortis. “Sweetie, come back in.”

The woman pointed to the door of the room, and Lucian moved turning away while she ran, putting her clothes on in the process. The sly Mortis was side-eying her.

“Gahhh, your gonna owe me for that. She wasn’t cheap y’know!” the man cried.

“How much?” Lucian asked.

“For her? 10 coins!”

“No, to learn swordsmanship from you,” Lucian stated.

The man got up, and Lucian turned away, as the man was fully exposed.

“What, never seen a man before?”

Mortis turned and did not side-eye this time.

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“My price is quite high to teach,” he continued, now wrapped in a towel.

Mortis edged closer to Lucian and whispered, “Lord, he’s lying. He barely has had any students, and he taught for scraps before.”

“I can hear you, y’know” the man angrily shouted. “Leave if you don’t want to pay.”

Lucian knew he could be a grifter. But he had money to spare. A Lot of it. He agreed to the man's request, who asked for the payment right away. Lucian handed him the 100 coins he was asking for, and stood, waiting while he counted them.

“Alright, meet me here tomorrow!” he exclaimed, happy.

Lucian did not have a day to waste. He insisted that he needed to start from today. He wanted to be sharp before the tournament. This statement raised an eyebrow in the man. Even more so when he told him that he was sponsored by Haymond.

“Sit in the living room, I’ll meet you in a bit.”

Lucian and Mortis sat in the first room, by the table and fireplace, waiting for him.

At last, he finally appeared, dressed and presentable.

“Alright, let's see what you've got,” the man said, scrutinizing Lucian with a critical eye. “Name’s Aric, by the way. But you errand boy told you that already, didn’t he?”

No, he had not.

“Lucian,” he replied, ignoring the Aric’s question. He followed Aric as he led them through a narrow hallway into a courtyard at the back of the house. It was surprisingly well-kept, with a small armory against one wall and training dummies scattered around.

“Grab a sword,” Aric instructed, pointing to the rack of practice weapons. Lucian selected one that felt similar in weight to his own. Aric picked up a wooden sword and gestured for Lucian to attack him.

Lucian hesitated. Aric’s demeanor had changed completely. The drunken slur was gone, replaced by a steely focus.

“Come on, don’t hold back,” Aric taunted. “Or are you afraid of a drunk?”

Gritting his teeth, Lucian lunged with speed and power. Aric parried it like butter. Within moments, he had disarmed Lucian and had the wooden blade at his throat.

“You’ve got good speed, and power but you’re predictable,” Aric said, lowering his weapon. “You rely too much on them.”

Lucian nodded, picking up his sword again. The next few hours were grueling. Aric pushed him relentlessly, exploiting every weakness, and pointing out every flaw. Lucian found himself on the ground more times than he cared to count.

“Again,” Aric demanded each time Lucian faltered. And each time, Lucian got up, his determination growing stronger.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Lucian was exhausted, every muscle in his body aching. Aric finally called a halt.

“Not bad for the first day,” he said. “You’ve got potential, but you need to be quicker, more adaptable.”

“Tomorrow then?” Lucian asked.

“Tomorrow? That was just the evaluation. The training starts now. Do what I do,” he said, swinging the sword in a choreographed set of moves, thrusting, twisting, sidestepping, ducking, and finally jump slashing. It was way too complex for Lucian to follow.

Aric demonstrated once more, and another time and another. Lucian slowly started to at least understand what he was supposed to do.

“Good, now do that until midnight,” Aric commanded.

“Midnight!?” Mortis was mortified. He looked at Lucian to plead to leave, but was met with eyes of fire instead,

Lucian and Mortis were left alone in the courtyard.

*DING *DING *DING

[Sword dance mastery]

[1/200]

He swung until his arms were like lead, and feet like jelly. Mortis was visibly exhausted from just watching. When the box had read [200/200] Lucian collapsed to the ground, where he closed his eyes.

The next morning, Lucian woke in a familiar bed. Not in the inn, but somewhere else. It was Aric’s! Disgusted, he jumped up and looked around, and saw Mortis sleeping on a chair in a corner.

Aric marched into the room, drunk again, but in a cheery mood.

“Hope you slept well,” he said. “Wake that fool up too, today’s gonna be a busy day.”

“Pack your weapons, and take a practice sword with you as well,” he continued. “We’re going hunting. Hobgoblin hunting.”