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CHAPTER 24: The sparring partner

CHAPTER 24: The sparring partner

I could get used to having cadets around, it made for a lighter workload. They did a sterling job unpacking the cart, everything set up, everything in place, even the furnace was on the go. We both were admiring how quickly everything went when a voice piped up from behind us at the doorway of the marquee tent.

“Ha, ha, ha. You're looking good old man. I trust the cadets did a decent job?”

A bearded soldier dressed in plated boiled leather armour addressed Grenfell with familiarity, as if greeting an old friend. They both saluted each other and put their left-hand on the other's shoulder. From the fluidity of the motion, I sensed they had done that often before. There was obviously an old history between the two of them.

“Karato you old fool. What stubborn mule kicked you in the head that you decided to stay in the military?”

“You know me, always the sword in the hand. Besides, you're looking quite good. It seems that elf wife of yours is looking after you well.”

Grenfell had an Elvish wife?

They continued talking as I listened with one ear to the conversation, while stoking the furnace. Somewhere during my preparations, I became distracted and lost track of the conversation, only to hear my name spoken out by Grenfell.

“…Yes, he's my new apprentice, Shane.”

“You have an apprentice? Since when did that happen?”

“He started a few moon cycles ago, helping me out at the woodcutter's camp, and then he killed an ogre general while naked and with his bare hands.”

Huh? The old man made me look like a depraved Superman, as if killing ogre generals with my bare hands while naked was something I did in my spare time when I wasn't usually hunting down monstrous direwolves. No mention of the fact I used a rock to bash its head in while it was taking a nap and I was bathing, not to exclude the minor but important detail that it slept with its back towards me. The damage however was done. I assumed that man Grenfell called Karato, was the commander of the camp. He looked at me with a sudden fierceness in his eyes like a retired battleship that just refired all its boilers.

“Ha, you don't say. Now there's a man worth sparring with.”

I refused. Fifteen seconds in a sparring ring with that man would be inviting death itself. Although he looked to be in his fifties, the man seriously looked like a bodybuilder, even his armour was doing a bad job of keeping his muscles in.

“Amazing, now that can’t be a coincidence, he's been going on and on through the whole journey about how he would love to train his mettle against military sparring partners.”

I'd just been sold out by the old man; he was even smiling about it. I couldn't speak a word; I was so surprised.

“Done. Look at him, he's speechless with expectation. Great, I'll get you the sparring ring next my tent first light tomorrow morning.”

Karato left the tent while waving his hand in the air like an emperor issuing a simple decree.

“We should catch up sometime old man, lots to talk about. Find me at my tent later this evening, I think I still got a bottle of the good stuff hiding away there somewhere.”

The old man sighed with a happy look on his face.

“Hey Brutus, what about me? Can you pull your knife out from between my shoulder blades?”

I didn’t sleep too well that night. My brain was filled with fantastical ideas of how I made the old guy work his guts out while I mucked around the camp. I couldn’t believe he just sold me out like that, and that without so much as a worried look on his face. I had no idea what to expect that morning when I eventually fell asleep to the forest noises and the sounds of soldiers snoring and horses neighing somewhere in the background.

The next cool, slightly misty morning, I woke up with the sky softening in colour while that galaxy’s stars started to hide behind lighter shades of blue. I quickly stood up, hanging my rough sleeping blanket up to air outside the marquee tent. Grenfell provided me with his old camping bedding and as relieved as I was to receive it, it smelled more of manly sweat than I wanted to experience in my lifetime. It seriously needed a wash and I was convinced I would find something in that military camp to wash it in. My bedding was fresh straw taken from bales of hay brought in for the horses. It was scratchy as blazes, but it was one still step better than sleeping on the ground. By agreement, both Grenfell and I slept on opposite sides of the marquee tent. There was no point in setting up another tent only to sleep in it, when the marquee could do just as good a job. Of course, we couldn’t eradicate all the outside elements, but when the side flaps were down it was quite liveable by male standards. Having a furnace burning in the tent kept things quite cosy and perhaps sometimes a little too warm. But whenever I got claustrophobic, I only needed to stick my head out of the bottom end of the side and breath the cooler outside air and fell asleep just like that. For those who were wondering about the fumes from the furnace, we placed it to the side of the marquee and had a special chimney designed to expel the heat and gasses well outside the roof of the tent.

I quickly washed my face, drawing water from the large wooden bucket next to the marquee tent. I haphazardly scooped water with a ladle while trying to miss the corpses of various insects floating in the water and giving my hair a quick rinse. One of the insects floating in the water, I recognised from Grenfell's earlier description, saying there were best left alone, dead or alive. They looked like large moths, but with the nasty looking pair of pincers at the end of their flexible abdomens. Apparently, the sting from one of those was enough to make a seasoned knight cry in pain. I regretted that I didn't know more about the insect life, perhaps there would be an opportunity in the future to learn more. That however, was a problem for another time, I needed to move quickly if I wanted to make it to the training ground before sunrise. True to his word, I found the commander waiting for me at the sparring ring, along with a group of soldiers. I wondered if at that stage I could still plead clemency, but somehow, I thought I would be wasting my breath.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Ah, you came. For a moment, I wondered if you had changed your mind?”

“What? And miss an appointment with death.”

The whole group of soldiers billowed with laughter. I didn't think they were laughing because I joked with them, more likely because I was telling the truth. A man like Commander Karato didn't get to the position he was in, by serving his enemy tea in porcelain cups. The soldiers emanated a high level of respect for the commander obviously earned over a long time of familiarity. As for me, I had no doubt it would be a short sparring session. Imagine my surprise when my sparring partner turned out not to be Karato, but one of the other lesser ranked soldiers. It seemed a God in the universe smiled down on me, and perhaps, just perhaps, I might survive that morning.

Grenfell said Karato would supply me with a sword when I got to the sparring ring, and true to his word a row of sufficiently blunted metal swords sat on a rack for me to choose from. The dual edge sword I selected, about the length of my arm, was the closest fit to what I was used to using with my father. It had been a while since I held a sword with the intention of using it in practice and I knew I'd be a little bit rusty. Again, I was secretly thankful that Karato started me off with one of the lesser experienced soldiers, because it would give me an opportunity to warm up a bit. Eventually I got a break before going in again. One of the female cadets I recognised from the day before handed me a wet cloth to cool my face down and I thanked her for it. I didn’t know what to say to her so sat there watching the sparring with her.

Karato stood next to one of the drill sergeants outside the sparring ring watching Shane resting from his last sparring bout. Grenfell's young apprentice seemed a capable fighter, able to hold his own against lower ranked soldiers. His dexterity looked above average, and he had a good defensive ability but had yet to display any significant attack skill, perhaps he was testing the waters a little first. His fighting style reminded him of something he had seen before.

“What you think of his fighting style?”

He asked the sergeant.

“It's unusual, I don't think I seen anything quite like it. His ready stance is different to ours. Where we hold our swords forward to keep as much space between us and our enemy, he stands back, as if preparing to strike.”

“I've only seen it once my lifetime when I was a young cadet. A wondering Balheimr adventurer once sparred with me, using that exact style.”

The sergeant stayed quiet since the commander seemed lost in thought. The burning question in Karato's mind was how that young apprentice learned to fight like that.

I didn’t have any idea the commander and sergeant discussed my fighting style since I didn’t have much time to rest before I was out onto the training ground again. Before the next soldier started his attack, I already decided to keep holding back to test his ability and skill. My father's endless training brought some benefit. Comparing the soldier's sword skill to my father's would be insulting my father because I could easily parry the soldier's attacks. My father's attacks were brutal, many times leaving me with striped bruises over the length of my body, causing my mother to get terribly upset with my father after each of those sessions.

Within five minutes of sparring, and two opponents, Karato decided to step in as my next opponent. Karato didn't smile as if he morphed from the jovial man that greeted Grenfell into someone completely focused on winning. As he approached me on the training ground, he swung his sword around in a figure eight, getting a feel for the weight of the sword and its dimensions while warming up his muscles. The sword made an intimidating swishing sound as it cut through the air. I realised my earlier opponents were just a mild warmup to what I was about to face, Karato would be no walk in the park. Perhaps it is natural for me to start on the defensive, but I decided to change my strategy and attack from the onset. If I didn't beat him within the first few seconds, he would just wear me down while playing around with me like a cat with a mouse.

My fast start caught him off guard. I was so focused on my attack that I only remember swinging my sword with blows quick succession. I could feel surges of energy bursting through me into my sword. He quickly retreated as my blows rained down on him, forcing him to parry and swerve in order to miss my attacks. The look on his face reminded me of my father, never panicked, always calculating and certain of his ability to overcome. It wasn't long after my first attack that he suddenly tripped my foot with his. By the time I recovered it was too late and found his sword at my neck, forcing me to surrender.

“You're a good fighter, but your skill shows your lack of experience. If you join the Royal Knights, I'll train you personally.”

From the audible gasp of the soldiers around me, I gathered he just offered me a rare privilege. I suspected as commander of the knights he didn't have much time to train in experienced swordsman like me. An offer like that was more than just an opportunity to join the Royal Knights, it was an invitation to join him. No doubt a lucrative offer as well. After all, none of the senior officers looked poor.

“I thank you for your kind offer, but I'll have to decline. I've already committed to being, Grenfell's apprentice, and I feel I can gain more benefit from working with him at this stage.”

I had to decline, because a position like that would only highlight my skill and I couldn't afford the issues that would come with that, at least at that stage. I didn't say anymore because that would only lessen Karato's offer.

“I understand, but in return I expect you to be here every morning early to practice with us.”

Bloody heck, I could swear he gave me a command. I couldn't say no, and he knew it. There was no way I was going to insult him in front of his soldiers, and it would also make Grenfell lose face. I knew what he was up to, he was hoping to have another opportunity to recruit me by forcing me to spar with his men every day. I think he overestimated my enthusiasm, I tended to be a late sleeper and I wasn't looking forward to waking up early in the morning. If anything, that would be the one reason I never joined the military.

While watching me walk away, Karato's mind ruminated over his sparring session. Only pure experienced reflex and training helped defend him against my first attacks. Few were able to appreciate just how quickly, and with what force my attacks were launched. Being on the receiving end of that onslaught reminded Karato never to underestimate a person, regardless of their age or profession.

The drill sergeant standing next to Commander Karato asked,

“Do you think he would join us?”

“No. He’s the type of person that likes to cosy in his bed in the mornings. But who knows, people and circumstances can change.”

The sergeant laughed at the joke and handed a sword to Karato to inspect.

“I thought you would be interested in this. What do you think of that sword he used during the practice?”

Karato frowned. It was an unusual question from the sergeant, and it piqued his interest. Holding the sword in his hand, he rotated it while inspecting the blade closely. Then he exclaimed,

“Who sharpened this sword?”

The drill sergeant expected that response from the commander. The use of sharpened weapons during practice was taboo, punishable by court marshal and possible dismissal. However, the drill sergeant knew the commander well enough not to feel threatened by the observation. Had the commander not been as proficient at sword fighting, he may have well been seriously injured in that last bout.

“I personally inspected every one of the swords before practice started this morning. None of those swords were sharp.”

Karato's eyebrows lifted in surprise. The drill sergeant wouldn't dare lie to him and in the Royal Knights, trust was implicit. If the sergeant said he inspected the swords, then Karato knew there was only one remaining answer. He flashed a Cheshire smile at the sergeant.

“Sergeant, I need you to do something for me. I think our young apprentice blacksmith might be hiding something from us.”