Echoing through the noble's training sands within, the Wilted Tulip grunts from a heavily bruised man by the sounds of wood hitting flesh. Once turning through the bathhouse, private rooms for massages, and sweat rooms, you will find the training sands, which Lone Solo was getting drilled with word and stick from the swordmaster Kilroy Jankson.

With a thwack from his training stick, Kilroy called out the next stance, "No, No, hold!" With a flick of his cane, Kilroy drops into the hanging guard, his right arm straight with the 'blade' hanging down diagonally. "The outside hanging guard parries Cut four, not the inside guard and your feet are misaligned again. Left leg forward, right foot at a ninety-degree angle with your knee bent, ready to spring into a thrust."

Lone looked down at his feet; his legs were spread out, his left foot pointed away to the left, and his right was nearly straight. It felt comfortable to him, but with muscle memory, he moved his feet into the proper position.

"Sorry, Kil, just thinking of my soldier days," with another wack from Kilroy. "Ow, come on, Kil, those skills allowed me to survive."

"Hence why I must break your habits; okay, let's break it down again. Sometimes, it would be fine to change styles, from the seventh word of combat." Kilroy noted.

"I know, I know. The seven words passed down from master to student for nearly three hundred years." Lone tried not to whine, but it was evident that he failed.

Kilroy spun to walk over to grab his training sword, "Enough; those words are not just suggestions but a way to approach every fight. Now embrace what you have learned and apply the seven."

As Lone took his stance across from Kilroy, he could read his mood quite well. With an internal sigh, I will be flogged by Kil. Great, Jara, save me!

Without warning, Kilroy moved into an overhead chop to the top of Lone's head. Moving into the corresponding guard, Kilroy then, with a deft twist of his wrist, got past Lone's guard for an attack to the leg. With a slight twitch of his leg, Lone tried to slip his lead leg away but was hit anyway.

Taking a step back, Kilroy noted. "As you can see, as you weren't ready, I used to overwhelm, the third word combined with the fifth, deceive. A basic feint with a sudden change of attack. What should have you done?"

"Um, shift back instead of blocking the attack so I would have been ready to see what you would do?" Lone suggested.

"Again." Kilroy lifted his practice cudgel, but this time, he had his lowered feet close together.

Falling into a relaxed guard with his feet ready to spring into an attack or thrust, Lone was not going to fall for that trap. Fall back on your lessons, first word, wait. Be the cat, not the mouse.

Another thirty seconds passed while they watched and waited for the other to initiate the combat. Without missing a beat, Kilroy moved into his fighting pose and attacked with an outside attack towards Lone's leading right shoulder. Reacting to his cut, Lone parried the strike and rolled his wrist to a low outside strike. Kilroy twisted his cudgel downward, a half-circle guard to repel his attack, and then he attacked.

They dropped into a dance quickly, and each attack was parried with the right guard. Kilroy would show his knowledge and prowess by attacking with a double or triple strike clash to put pressure on Lone; he was slowly being overwhelmed again, and even trying a few feints to break up Kilroy's momentum didn't seem to work. What to use? He needs to break out of his rhythm. Maybe use my old style to provoke him to be reclast.

With that, Lone squared his body more and did an aggressive chop. He followed up with another one, losing the flowing form of the Western Broadsword style to a more brutal one where steel meets flesh on the battlefield.

If Lone thought he would get a reaction from his master, he was sorely mistaken. With little effort, Kilroy parried or slipped past the overly aggressive style. He stayed in defence, which is what Lone did not want. Slowing down his constant chops and strikes, he opened his body up to a thrust, hoping Kilroy would take the bait. I am going to use the fifth and sixth rule. See what you will do, master.

With no more encouragement, Kilroy thrust towards Lone's midriff. Got you! Lone slipped his body back into the on-guard stance, just being missed by the straight strike. He countered the attack with a thrust of his own. From his impassive face, Kilroy smiled as he stepped around Lone's assault and went for a knee strike. Lone was utterly unbalanced, and with a crack of wood on flesh, he dropped to the ground.

Lone looked up at his master. Nearly got him, thought Lone.

Kilroy looked down at his student, "Better, good use of deceive and disrupt. You guessed you hoped to trick me into making a mistake, but your face told me your whole strategy. Everything is a weapon; even a twitch in your face will tell your opponent the plan."

With a hand up that looked like Kilroy gave little effort, Lone could still feel the might of this man even though he was nearly sixty. Solo was always surprised by the strength packed into a wiry man.

"Thank you, Master Kilroy, for your lesson," Lone said as he inclined his head respectfully.

"None of that; I look forward to your fights for the Championship, Lone. You are still fresh-faced to my style, but you'll be fine in this tournament if you don't truly slip into that so-called Dukedom wall fodder fighting."

Grabbing a towel to mop the sweat off his brow, then having a long drink from a chilled glass of refreshing water, Lone Solo nodded at his master, "I am wondering how far I can go too. If you did not see the possibility of myself being ready for it, I would never have tried."

As Lone stripped off his training armour and Kilroy raked the training area, they didn't notice Pela entering the room. With a clear voice, Pela called out. Which made Solo jump, and Kilroy just turned into a ready position. "Sorry, I just finished my shift at the Hall and wondered if Lone was finished for the day?"

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Relaxing, Kilroy looked at his pupil and replied, "I don't think any more can be done today, even though I think he could need it."

"The first bracket starts tomorrow morning, Kil; I do not think another beating will help me improve," droned Lone.

Pela laughed as Kilroy struck back with certainty. "And that is the problem! I'm not here to beat you like an army sergeant. I am a master of the broadsword, targe and dirk! Drumming that through your subpar training from your military stint is hard enough without you whining."

Knowing he took it too far, Lone apologised to his swordmaster, "I am sorry, Master Kilroy. I am just frustrated by slipping back into my old fighting style."

With only a grunt of recognition of Lone's apology, Kilroy returned to tending the sands. Pela said, "Well, if that is it, I will meet you outside, Lone."

With a nod, Lone picked up his armour and weapon to take it to the cleaning boy. Stretching out some kinks, Lone bowed to Kilroy to move onto the changing room. There, he stripped his sweat-incrusted underclothes, and with a few wipes of a scented cool cloth, he put on his sturdy everyday clothes.

Once clothed and refreshed, he left through the front door, the day clear for the first time in a week. Spring storms can be intense being on the Lake and seeing Pela talking to the bouncer, Dave. Seeing her giggling at a joke uttered by the beefy man, I did not know that Pela liked the more robust men.

"Hey-ho, I am finished," With a wink, Lone went on, "I hope I am not butting in?"

With a startled look from Pela and a scowl from Dave, it turned into a crooked smile. "Nah, just telling Pela about this drunk visiting merchant. Nearly hurt my back, throwing him out because he was so portly."

"Sorry, Dave, I have to go," Pela smiled with a gentle brush of her hand to his ripped biceps.

With a bit of cough, Dave just nodded and looked around like he was expecting trouble. Lone hid his grin from Dave's embarrassment, "Yeah, see you, Dave. Will you be coming to the tournament?"

With another cough, Dave sighed, "Not for the first two days, but the matron has given me her seats for the third day. So I can see the championship fight, at least." With a little look over to Pela, he stuttered. "Um, did. Did you want to join me, ah, Pela?"

A little shock travelled through Pela as she struggled with an answer. Lone decided to butt in again, "She will love too, Dave. You know where we live. Just meet her downstairs around," looking over at Pela, whose face burned with heat and by her powers of an Incanta, it blazed forth as well. Stepping away, Lone continued, "Mid-morning would be perfect. What do you think, Pela?"

Her heat intensified. Even small flames could be seen floating around her head. With a quick nod, Pela replied, "Yes, that seems fine." then she turned and fled.

Watching her flee, Lone chuckled, "Good on you, friend." Slapping the broad man on the back, "See you on the third day." With that, he followed in his friend and roommate's wake.

✦ ✦ ✦

Catching up to Pela, Lone noticed the heat still billowed from her curvy frame. "A little flustered?"

"Damn you, Lone, I was, um, going to agree to the, um, seating thing." Pela fumbled over her words. With a clearing of her throat. "I didn't need your interference."

With a flash of heat and her annoyance, Lone put his hands in surrender. "Sorry, I did not know you like the big beefy type."

With a roll of her eyes, "Dave is nice and funny. He looks stern at work, but I have been talking with him over the last few months, and he opened up to me. He is a good guy."

Letting it go, Solo redirected to another topic, "So, how was the Hall today?"

With her becoming calm, Pela raised her eyebrows to Lone, knowing what he was doing. "Well, it was busy coming up to the tournament of champions. So many people wanted to register, but the day before, no spots were left for even the wild card entries."

I thought about that; am I in the bracket? "Pela, what are the wild card entries?"

They walked around some traffic as it was Affluent Road: trader's carts, businesses closing for the night, and many adventurers wandering around the business district.

Rolling her eyes, Pela patiently explained, "You were there for the briefing?" Seeing the blank look on Lone's face, she went on, "Proven adventurers, fighters with masters or previous top five of Hall's championship will be in bracket A, so that means they are in the final bracket. The wild cards will be eliminated until sixteen are left. You might fight one of the wild cards in the first round. The drawback will be that they will have at least three days of fighting more than bracket A."

"Wow, I did not realise this was such a big event." With a sudden thought, "Is the elimination happening now?"

"Yes, you dummy, this is the final day and tomorrow we see the final bracket and lots handed out." Pela wondered if Lone was all there sometimes.

Being not the transparent man as most people think, Lone responded, "Okay, okay. Kil has been a taskmaster over the last few weeks, so missing some information is not bad. I might need healing from Way or Gunnar, so I do not have too many bruises."

Pela looked at him, a little shocked, as they came onto Market Lane, just missing a group of people coming out of the Hall. Stepping around them, they continued their chat.

"Has he been pushing you that hard?" Pela asked.

"Yes and no. Kil has only 'punished' me when I backtrack to my old style. With all this pressure on myself, I have been slipping." Lone spotted Brice Marden still working his food cart as they approached the Grand Bazaar. "Let us grab a feed at Brice's, my shout."

Coming up to Brice's cart, Pela and Lone grabbed each stool, greeting Brice. "Hey, you lot. What can I get you two?"

"How is the fish today?" Lone asked.

"Fresh like usual, but I have it as a stew today, only put it on this afternoon. One slip and 50 bits for my spiced fish chowder, bread roll free for you two." Brice explained.

Lone nodded at Pela and said, "We will take two with the roll." Brice turned around to ladle out the chowder. Lone stomach growled, and all three of them laughed. Brice jokingly said, "Bit hungry, hey Lone?"

"Yeah, it has been another long day of training, but I have high hopes for tomorrow," Lone responded.

"Yes, he has been working his butt off. I'm going to bet a few slips on him and Joan." Pela promised.

With a flourish, Brice plonked their bowls of the steaming soup in front of Lone and Pela. The smell was intoxicating. As they dipped in the soup, the fish just flaked apart. The scent of ginger, garlic and leeks was evident; both groaned in pleasure from the subtle but spiced taste of Brice's chowder.

"Wow, this is fantastic!" Exclaimed both Pela and Lone at the same time.

With a belly laugh, Brice mirthly replied, "As the cool nights come about, I have many people who just need to be warmed up. No insult, but I think I will put my money on Stillwater. Three times champion, can't beat those odds."

"Come on, I think I have a shot," Lone whined.

After another blissful mouthful, Pela responded cheerfully, "Hey, I am still betting on you, Lone, but I will miss the first day. I promised Bertude that I would man the Hall while she referees the contest."

"Should not matter. I will be fighting on days two and three. I have a feeling." boasted Lone.

"Still, I think I will be betting on Stillwater anyway." Brice convincingly said, which earned a sigh from Lone.