"Good shot, Alex, now follow through!"

Val grinned, enjoying himself more than he had thought he would after making the drive to the local HEMA club on the invite of Alex and the rest of the gang, fast friends from his high school days whose friendship had progressed from MMORPG games to larping to sparring with well-balanced replicas of actual swords, Val not the only one to find mastering those old arts absolutely fascinating, learning the basics not only of longsword, rapier, sword and buckler and english saber, but of ancient wrestling and dagger fighting as well. Skills that helped him excel at varsity wrestling, the only school sport he had bothered with in the four years he had attended. Skills he would one day put to deadly use.

He flinched and shook his head, compartmentalizing ugly memories that had no place in the glorious gymnasium he presently found himself in, finely polished hardwood floors still smelling of beeswax, half the area covered in mats for freeform sparring or grappling, focusing intently as his friend and his sparring partner circled one another, teasing each other with probing thrusts and strikes. Alex's opponent seized the initiative, lashing out of a fast, powerful Oberhau Val was sure would connect, even as Alex coolly step-slid to the side even as his blade whipped around in a powerful diagonal blow, aiming not for his foe's neck, but for the blade itself, Alex forcing it off-line before following up with a jarring thrust his surprised opponent was unable to counter, the crack audible even from where Val was sitting. Alex's opponent collapsed to the ground with a wheeze after the perfectly timed blow.

Of course Alex was crouched right there beside his coughing opponent, checking up on him and giving pointers before helping his student up and sending him off with a clap on his back before making his own way to a smiling Val.

"So what do you think, Val? Do I still got the knack or what?" Alex took off his sparring helmet, brown curls and a brilliant smile showcasing perhaps the handsomest face among his friends, stopping only to give Val's father a firm handshake before reaching over to clap Val's shoulder, saying not a word about the wheelchair his friend had arrived in, and good enough not to flinch at Val's scarred face, treating him the same as he always had.

Val laughed. "I see you can finally spar properly."

Alex grinned. "That's right. It's a wicked power blow if you seize the Vor and want to tear right through them. But if you act in the nach, and strike their blade with your forte just as they are lashing out for you, their blade is offline and it's a quick twist and lunge and you've run them through."

Val nodded. "A two-beat version of the Zornhau. I almost forgot how good you are with a blade, Alex. I'm glad I got to see you give your newest opponent a run for his money."

"Yup, I'm teaching part-time. Helps pay the bills, you know?"

"And you're doing what you love."

"Exactly."

Val shared a pained smile, thinking back to a time when he could move free and easy about the gym just as Alex did, his sparring blade held in an easy, sure grip. The exhilaration he felt, measuring his opponents' movements, flicking quick, teasing blows before springing back, happily waiting for his challengers to overcommit before sending them reeling with perfectly timed blows that seemed to slip through their guard with a dancer's grace and a serpent's speed. That's how he liked to remember it, anyway.

Val gazed down at legs even now throbbing with pain, having taken only enough medicine to take the edge off.

"Valor, how are you feeling?"

Val smiled into his friend's concerned gaze. "Not too shabby, Alex. Were I not a man of leisure now, I'd be more than happy to put you in your place with blade and buckler or longsword."

Alex chuckled goodnaturedly, exchanging a glance with Val's father. "I was sort of hoping you'd say that. Hold on just a moment." He then hurried off, Val shrugging and turning to gaze at the score or so of students and masters, half of them free-sparring, the other half going over forms with a solemn-voiced instructor. Only a few gazed at Val for more than a few considering seconds before nodding their heads as if paying tribute

, honoring a wounded vet come home.

Val grimaced. He was younger than most, he could tell that just by catching their gazes, helms and fencing masks aside. But their eyes. How goddamned young and naive they all looked, for all that most moved as men in their late twenties and thirties. For all they knew, Val had wiped out in a stupid ski stunt. It had only been a few years since he was training his heart out at this very club. Three short years that stretched forever, a gulf he could never hope to bridge.

But then again, who was he to complain? No one could savor halcyon childhood once they left. And he, at least, was still alive. Not all his friends could say the same, for all that he had fought damn hard to keep them all together. He sighed then, thoughts turning to Julia, smiling in memory of how passionate she was about life, adventuring, and her future. He knew she had dimples, a beautiful smile, and eyes that flashed and sparkled like pools of pristine water in an ancient forest. And he only knew that because she had sent pictures to all her groupmates, enjoying cosplay almost as much as she did adventuring.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

If he was back in high school, he'd ask her out in a heartbeat, but he wasn't, so shook those thoughts away, happy just to have her as a friend.

"Hey Val, if you're done staring at the cute redhead, who is my student, by the way, I have something to show you."

Val grimaced, realizing he had been zoning out, grateful to see no one staring back, all too able to imagine what they'd say if some grizzly looking cripple seemed to be leering at them.

"Lighten up, I'm joking," Alex assured. "Now check this out."

Val blinked, now focusing fully upon the spadroon Alex held out with solemn reverence. Val whistled, impressed despite himself. Most smallswords that incorporated a cutting blade failed miserably at both. This blade, however, had been built to exacting standards with a backrib down most of its length. It would give the blade rigidity, and when Alex solemnly put it in Val's grip, it felt perfectly balanced, not heavy at all, yet still had a fine edge even if narrower than most cutting blades. Val was impressed by the exotic hilt, a hybrid between a three bar hilt and a clamshell, protecting against cuts and thrusts while still allowing for remarkable balance and point control.

Val gazed up at his friend. "This must have been privately commissioned."

His friend nodded. "That much I learned upon coming across the piece, though the name of the officer it was commissioned for is all but illegible. What's remarkable is that this blade has actually been used in three duels, the officer in question emerging victorious after each."

Val's eyebrows raised, appraising the blade carefully, light flashing across the polished steel. "It looks well cared for, and sharp, but there is no way this blade was used as a cutter."

"You'd be surprised, actually. It's no 1796 light cavalry saber, of course, which could easily lop your head off and hack through light armor. This blade won't slice through an enemy soldier in a thick buff coat charging at you with a bayoneted rifle, not a chance. But the back ridge and tapered point means that the blade won't flex like most spadroons, and you can run your charging opponent right through the heart. And the cutting edge, modest as it is, is perfect for flicking cuts without ever being off balance, giving you perfect control in a duel, if you're among gentleman wearing silken finery, dueling to first blood."

Val nodded, considering. "Against an unarmored man, a quick darting slash to wrist or neck could win you the duel, even if you didn't bite much past the skin."

"Exactly. It's all too easy to nick an artery or cripple the wrist, and a quick slash doesn't leave you open to counters the way fully committing yourself to the lunge does."

Val laughed. "Good point. Thanks for showing me the blade."

Alex smiled. "Would you like to try it out?"

Val gazed at his friend before looking down at his wheelchair. "That would be kind of hard, wouldn't it?"

Alex shrugged. "Not necessarily. So much is done from the wrist. Think of it like fencing on horseback. The 1796 is a dedicated cutter because lunges are such a poor idea fighting from horseback, save in the actual charge, and that breaks wrists as often as not, if you're not properly trained."

"For all that the 1916 was a dedicated thruster."

"Yes, but by that point, it was all strictly hit and run tactics. You didn't engage sword against sword, you just used it like a lance, basically. Now hold that thought, I've got a target for you."

Val nodded to show that he was game, reservations aside, purposely turning to gaze at his father.

His dad shrugged. "I know how much you used to love to fence. Alex said he had an idea to help you get back into your favorite hobby, even from the wheelchair."

Val smiled, knowing his father's heart was in the right place. Yet he had never missed the simple joy of effortless mobility more than he did at that moment, unable even to fake a smile as Alex came back, holding a rolled tatami mat with a paper target taped onto it. "Good for thrusting or cutting. Give it a go, Val, why not?"

Val shook his head, feeling the entire class's eyes upon him, before gamely pushing it out of mind and with slow, tentative movements that rapidly gained in assurance, he began to slash the mats, every once in awhile following up with as deep a lunge as he could, almost a bow, knowing his wheelchair was now firmly braced.

He blinked to hear applause, forcing a smile for all that he feared it was pity, finding himself feeling surprisingly energized for the modest workout, realizing he had actually enjoyed himself. And for all that it was no saber, his slices had not been completely ineffective, and his lunges had gone through without hindrance.

He turned to his friend. "Thanks, Alex, I enjoyed that."

Alex clapped his shoulder. "Come by anytime. We'll get you sparring with blunt smallswords before you know it. It will be fun."

Val promised to consider it, feeling a contentment that lasted all the way home.

"It was nice to get out of the house, wasn't it?" His father said after assisting him back to his own room, Val legs cramping furiously, added agony to the constant fire caressing his limbs. Val thought the pain a worthy trade for a chance to see his friend and handle that beautiful blade.

"It was," Val admitted. "Thanks for taking me."

His father smiled. "Least I can do for a soldier who served his country, son."

Val grimaced. He had been the farthest thing from a hero as could be. An ugly little secret, that dark necessity that got things done that no one ever talks about. No one even thinks about. Unasked for leave and miscellaneous combat pay, and sometimes they didn't even bother to hide it. Just a stack of bills and orders to have a good time for a week. Blood money to wash their sins away.

He drew a shuddering breath, hissing with pain. "Damn it, dad. You were a colonel yourself. You know what really makes these wars tick. What it's really about."

His father stared with the hard eyes of a commander, pinning Val with a thousand yard stare. Gone was the loving, almost doting father. What Val faced in that moment were the granite-hard features of a commander Val was now utterly certain had ordered men just like him, doing god knows what ugly deeds for a cause one could only hope was somehow just.

Val swallowed and looked away.

"Get some rest, son. You've had a long day." And not another word from his old man, bedroom door shut quietly behind him.

Val trembled and closed his eyes to bitter tears, never having felt so weak, so bitter, as he did at that moment, and he wasn't even sure why.