Arindall, a small village on the edge of Azzellia near the Unknown Waters. Barely five thousand people lived here. Crime was low and there was little threat of danger. Bordering the village was the Unknown Waters, while the rest of the village was surrounded by trees.
Sweat dripped down Arturo’s chin. He swung his sword with all his strength and heard the whoosh of hitting only air. The force of his swing scattered leaves. He loved spring. Sunlight shined through the clouds that broke away. The weather was neither too hot or too cold. It was the perfect time to train.
Arturo took another swing and nearly lost his balance. I have to get stronger. Tightening his grip on the sword’s handle, he swung again, harder this time, then swung again. Each time he almost tumbled. In a real fight, his opponent wouldn’t go easy on him or give him time to rest. That was why he pushed himself so hard.
Arturo was sixteen, standing six foot five inches tall, with short dark brown hair and brown eyes. His training sword was massive; the blade was longer than he was tall and over twice as thick as a normal sword. The average person wouldn’t be able to handle a weapon of this size, but he could. Ever since he heard about the Whirlwind Knight, Mujarin Ostiktski all he wanted to do was become a legend. Mujarin was known to wield the largest sword in history, one that no person had ever been able to use. Perhaps, someday, he could.
Arturo was so focused on his training that he didn’t notice the two people watching him from a nearby tree. He swung one last time before planting his sword into the ground, then leaned against the weapon as he gasped for air. Not good enough. I should be able to do more! He turned when he heard someone clapping.
“Well done, brother,” Marcus laughed. Next to him was his twin, John, also clapping.
“Ha, ha, you’re so funny,” Arturo retorted. Like him, his brothers were big; six feet nine and built like mountains. The only difference between the two was their weapon of choice: Marcus carried a big axe while John used a two-handed sword.
“You sure love to train,” John observed.
“Yeah, he does. You do this every morning, don’t you?” Marcus said.
“I get to leave on my adventure next year. I want to be prepared,” Arturo said, lifting his sword from the ground. It was tradition to leave their village, Arindall, at the age of seventeen for at least one year. His brothers had got back from their adventure three weeks ago. “If I recall, both of you trained just as hard as I did before leaving.”
“That’s true,” Marcus admitted with a shrug.
“Thing is, we went on our journey and wished we hadn’t trained so hard,” John added. “Enjoy what you have. You’ll miss home once you leave.”
“Fat chance,” Arturo said. He’d been looking forward to leaving Arindall since he was ten years old. Exploring the world and fighting in battles sounded exciting! Who wouldn’t want to make a name for themselves? His dream was to become a legend, someone known throughout the world.
John shook his head and chuckled. “You’ll see when you go.”
“Why are you swinging such a huge sword? I thought you were joking about training with that when we left,” Marcus said.
“I bet he pretends he’ll be the next Whirlwind Knight,” John teased.
Arturo said nothing. He’d used to pretend to be Mujarin. While he wanted to be that strong someday, he no longer pretended to be someone else. He wanted to get stronger and he couldn’t do that by sitting back and doing nothing.
“I think you’re right!” Marcus leaned on John’s shoulder and laughed.
“Well, boys, why don’t you spar with Arturo and show him how it’s done?” Out of nowhere appeared Archard Pentori, their father. He was wearing a brown leather tunic and a leather belt with his sword sheathed to his hip. His hair was a wavy dark brown, and he had blue eyes and a crooked nose. Like his sons, he was tall and muscular, only half an inch shorter than the twins.
John and Marcus straightened when they heard Archard’s voice. “Father, we helped fight rebels in Eshil Domain. It wouldn’t be fair for Arturo to fight us after that,” John protested.
“He’s right; we’ve fought in actual battles,” Marcus said.
“A good reason to spar with your brother, then. Perhaps you can teach him something.” Archard’s face gave no room for arguing.
Arturo quivered with excitement. He’d been wanting to spar with his brothers since their return, but his father had told him to give them some time to rest.
“Fine. You’ve made your point,” John said with resignation.
“I want you both to fight Arturo at the same time,” Archard said.
“That wouldn’t be fair and you know it! I’ll fight him one on one, then John can go after me,” Marcus argued.
Archard shook his head. “You’ll both spar him together. I have my reasons for having you fight him at once.”
What reason could that be? Arturo wondered. He knew his brothers could beat him in a one-on-one—at least, they had been beating him easily before leaving on their adventure. Marcus and John should be much stronger now. There was no chance he could take them both. Perhaps his father wanted him to know what it was like to fight more than one opponent at a time.
Arturo examined his sword hilt, which was covered in leather to make it easier to maintain a solid grip. His weapon was far bigger than Marcus’s axe and John’s sword. He didn’t have to ask Archard to know his father wanted them to use their real weapons.
Marcus raised his hands in defeat. “Fine. We’ll fight Arturo at the same time and teach him a good lesson.”
“Don’t underestimate your younger brother,” Archard warned.
“You have a lot of faith in someone who’s never fought in a real battle,” John said.
Arturo ignored the banter. He would show his brothers what he was capable of. He might not have a chance of winning, but he wouldn’t go down easy.
He gripped his sword and walked toward the training grounds. His earlier exhaustion had lifted. He was excited to find out what his brothers had learned in the fields of battle. Hopefully, he could learn something and improve his sword technique.
It was warmer by the time Arturo, John, and Marcus stepped into the training pit. Archard looked at his sons with pride. They’d grown into capable men. All three were dressed in armor and holding their weapons. Arturo had his sword resting on his shoulder, John was in an aggressive stance, holding his sword with one hand, and Marcus was leaning on his axe.
Archard remembered the day Arturo asked for his sword to be crafted. He had told him no at first but changed his mind when he saw Arturo tying rocks to his swords to try and replicate the weight of the weapon he had in mind. When Arturo showed such determination, how could he not give his son what he wanted?
As a surprise, Archard had the sword crafted in secret and gave it to Arturo as a present. John and Marcus had been ambitious growing up, but there was something different about his youngest son. Perhaps it was being the youngest that made Arturo push himself so hard. Whatever the reason, Arturo had a much fiercer drive than his brothers.
“You all ready?” Archard yelled. Arturo nodded first, with Marcus and John hollering back that they were ready. “Begin!”
John and Marcus went to attack but were caught off guard as Arturo made the first move. Arturo quickly reached John and swung his sword. Unable to hide his surprise, John ducked the attack and stepped back as Arturo pivoted to launch another strike.
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A loud metallic ring echoed across the training grounds when Marcus’s axe intercepted Arturo’s sword. The weapons were locked against one another and neither was budging. Seeing an opportunity to attack, John rushed Arturo from the side.
Arturo broke off from Marcus and swung at John. John intercepted the sword but the force of the blow was too much and he thudded into the ground with a puff of dust.
Marcus growled and began a relentless assault, forcing Arturo on the defense. Each swing forced Arturo back. Several seconds passed before Arturo found an opportunity to knock aside the axe and kicked Marcus in the stomach.
John was up and went to help his twin, though he was too late: Marcus yielded when Arturo rested his sword on Marcus’s shoulder. The fighting stopped and Archard barely suppressed a smile.
Archard knew John and Marcus would underestimate their younger brother. What sibling wouldn’t? Now they would want to beat Arturo and request a rematch. The thought barely flew through his head before Marcus was saying they should go again.
“My, my, that was an impressive fight.”
Archard whirled to see Lord Maloi standing next to him. He was wearing a green silk shirt, with a red cloak draped over his shoulders. His boots were a mixture of green and gold. He was in his late thirties and had two guards next to him, each wearing plated armor.
“Apologies, my lord. I didn’t hear you come up,” Archard said with a bow.
Maloi waved his hand. “You don’t need to address me so formally. You should know this by now.”
“The more reason to show you my respect,” Archard said.
“You haven’t changed one bit, have you?” Maloi said and hugged Archard.
Archard laughed and returned the embrace. He hadn’t seen Maloi in three years. Maloi was a lord, often away traveling around Azzellia. Archard had met quite a few lords back in the day and he hadn’t liked most of them. Maloi was one of the few he enjoyed talking to.
“What brings you to Arindall?” Archard asked.
Clangs of metal echoed as Arturo, Marcus, and John resumed fighting. Maloi watched the fight with great interest. “Just passing through. I have to say, your boy Arturo is impressive.”
Maloi never looked away from the bout as he spoke. Archard wasn’t used to seeing Maloi so interested in a fight.
“He trains hard,” Archard said.
“Yes. I bet he could join the royal guard if he has no desire to be one of my guards.”
That got a chuckle out of Archard. Imagining any of his sons as guards was farfetched. Marcus and John were suited for a peaceful life, their adventurous spirit had disappeared. He saw it in their eyes whenever they spoke of their time. Arturo reminded him of himself as a young lad, adventurous and not wanting to do something as boring as guarding royalty. “I don’t see Arturo wanting to be a guard, royal or not.”
Maloi laughed. “You’re probably right. The gifted always want more than a simple life.”
Those words rang true, even more so for Archard. He could have joined the royal guard himself. The current king of Azzellia, Lerin Astero, had once offered him a position. There were a lot of benefits: food pay, free housing, and after you served for fifteen years you would become a lord. He had been twenty-four then and declined, saying there were other things he wanted to do.
Sometimes, Archard regretted not accepting Lerin’s offer. Though, if he had, he wouldn’t have met his wife, Leann, nor would he have his four children. Still, on occasion he wondered how his life would have turned out if he had followed that path.
The second fight ended with Arturo winning again, much to Marcus’s and John’s frustration. It was good to see the three sparring again, even if it was going to be hard to get them to do so often. Arturo was too young to notice, but Archard could tell Marcus and John didn’t want to fight anymore. Whatever combat they had experienced in Eshil Domain had changed them, much as it had changed him once he’d had his taste of combat. The stories made battles seem glorious when they were anything but.
“My, my, you may have fathered a legend,” Maloi said, breaking Archard out of his thoughts. “Arturo is very skilled. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a more talented warrior.”
Legends. There had many throughout history, telling tales of impossible feats. Mujarin Ostiktski and how he killed two hundred men by himself. Ostana Nepitine, who had barged into a castle when a king had taken her husband and killed every guard, including the royal guards, and eventually the king himself. Dalmone Westero, he was the first power user to create a power-forged weapon, which allowed a normal person to use the power of that weapon. This changed the tides of war, until only a few artifacts remained as the ability to create a power-forged weapon was lost in the War of Power. Could Arturo achieve anything like that? Archard doubted it. His son was talented, but legends were something more.
“Every father wants their son to be special. The odds are very low of Arturo becoming a legend. I doubt any of my children will become one,” Archard said.
“Nonsense! I have met a couple of legends during my travels and I see the makings of one in Arturo,” Maloi replied. His speed and strength are far beyond a normal person’s ability.”
“Even if what you say is true, I won’t be telling my son what you said,” Archard said. The makings of a legend were more than just being stronger and faster than everyone else. It required doing something most people couldn’t. Feats that would be talked about for centuries to come.
“I would hope not. Doing so would feed his ego,” Maloi said. “While I’m here, how have things been? I’ve had messengers keep me up to date for the most part but I would like to hear from you.”
“Not often I get asked how things are going by a lord,” Archard said, then noticed the look on Maloi’s face and kept his face still. With how easy-going Maloi was, it was easy to forget he was talking to a lord. The last thing he wanted to do was push his luck. Despite their good relationship, he would regret offending Maloi. “Nothing too exciting. A few of the boys left on their adventure on the first day of spring.”
“Did Parvorish leave?”
Archard nodded. “Him and six others.”
“Good for them. I remember Parvorish being excited about becoming of age when I was last here.”
“Otherwise, there’s been nothing unusual. Is there anything specific you want to know?”
“There is.” Maloi stroked his beard and sighed. “With the rebellions breaking out in Vandalor and Eshil Domain, I need to be vigilant about any talk of that here.”
The rebellions had been a problem over the last year. For reasons Archard didn’t understand, people in Vandalor and Eshil Domain were unhappy to the point of starting rebellions. More surprising was how many people had joined the rebels. It made him suspicious that these uprisings were planned by someone and not because the people of these nations were unhappy, though he had no proof.
If the rebellions were planned, who was orchestrating them and why? Archard suspected it might be Malvarian or Skahad, perhaps even Azzellia, though he didn’t see why King Lerin would want to conquer the other nations. It wasn’t like the king to do something so aggressive. When he thought about it, he didn’t see Malvarian or Skahad wanting to start rebellions either. Malvarian and Skahad wanted nothing more than to be left alone.
“There’s been no talk of starting a rebellion here. Do you think someone is orchestrating these uprisings as part of some strategy?” Archard asked.
Maloi shrugged. “It’s hard to say. King Lerin sent me a letter to look into the matter. I haven’t heard about any trouble stirring and neither have the other lords I’ve spoken with. Perhaps I’m paranoid to think this might be part of some bigger plan.”
“If this is orchestrated, which nation do you think is responsible?” Archard asked.
“That’s the thing,” Maloi said as he scratched his chin. “If this was just in Eshil Domain, then I would suspect Malvarian. These rebellions are everywhere but Azzellia. I’m not sure who would gain from this action or how they are convincing these rebels to rise up.”
It was easy to drift to a lord being responsible. Lords were always suspicious of one another, at least in certain areas. Archard wouldn’t put it past a lord to foment trouble to gain more power, but he didn’t see a lord starting a rebellion.
“If I had any ideas, I would tell you. I don’t think you’ll find anything here,” Archard said.
“I know.” Maloi looked troubled as he let out a sigh. “It’s possible these are organic. If so, we shouldn’t have any problems in Azzellia, the people here are happy. I have had some of my agents ask and found nothing unusual.”
Archard agreed. Lerin was a good king. He couldn’t speak for Vandalor or Eshil Domain, however. He’d traveled to those nations when he was younger and didn’t recall any hatred expressed toward the royal family. Of course, he hadn’t been over there asking the locals what they thought, and that had been decades ago.
“Knowing you have to deal with something like this makes me glad not to be a lord.”
“Ah, it’s—”
“Lord Maloi! I didn’t know you were watching,” Arturo said, catching the two by surprise. He caught himself and bowed. “It’s good to see you again.”
John and Marcus bowed and welcomed the lord, their greeting far more formal than Arturo’s. Archard would bet all he had that the twins learned the hard way on how to speak to a lord properly. One day he would have to get that story out of them.
“I snuck up on your father,” Maloi said, smiling and gripping their hands in greeting. “You’ve all gotten so strong since I’ve been away.”
“We hope you enjoyed our sparring,” Arturo grinned, and got a nudge in the ribs from Marcus.
“It was a joy watching you fight. I hope you spar again before I have to leave,” Maloi replied.
“Perhaps,” Archard said. “I’m sure the three of you learned a good lesson in today’s sparring?”
The twins nodded begrudgingly while Arturo said yes. Archard could see how annoyed John and Marcus were at losing to their brother. Thankfully, they knew to keep quiet in front of Maloi.
“I hope so. Well, I better get going. I’ll try to speak with you before I leave again,” Maloi said.
Once Maloi was out of earshot, John broke the silence. “I’ll admit that you are better than I expected, but I could take you in a fight one on one,” he said to Arturo.
“Yeah, I work better on my own!” Marcus said.
“Uh-huh. You just can’t admit I’m the better fighter!” Arturo retorted.
“How about we go one round? Just me and you?” John grinned cockily as he spoke.
“I’m ready when you are,” Arturo said.
“Not now,” Archard said. “Dinner’s almost ready and your mother will be upset if we’re late.” He saw the disappointment on Arturo’s face. He wasn’t stupid: the twins were embarrassed to lose to their younger brother after all their bragging. “Let’s get going.”
As they walked, Archard glanced at Arturo while replaying the sparring session in his mind, along with Maloi’s words about his youngest son having the potential to become a legend. What would he do if that were the case? His son would experience many dangers and that was something he didn’t wish for him. He shook his head, banishing the thought from his mind. The last thing he needed to worry about was whether Arturo would be a legend or not. For now, he would enjoy the time he had to spend with his family.