“Are you sure you want to do this?” Bjorgrund asked, hefting his greataxe. The enormous weapon—built to be wielded by golem knights for crushing through the hardest, thickest armour—gleamed in the multi-hued light of the sanctum’s portals. “This isn’t how you normally fight, is it? And excuse me if that sounds insulting, but…”

The young giant flexed his muscular arms. “I’m scared that if I make a mistake, I could smash you into oblivion, or cut you in half, or rip you to shreds, or split you down the middle, or—”

“I think I get it,” Alex grunted through clenched teeth. “And you're right, this isn't the way I'm most comfortable fighting…actually, that's an understatement: I've never fought like this before.”

“So, why now? You're more of a spell-caster, right?” the giant looked at him in confusion.

Alex, the General of Thameland, looked at him evenly. “You're right, but a lot has changed lately. So, I have to adjust. I think it's more than time I explore all my options.”

He looked down at what was in his hand.

“And I do mean all my options.”

Holding swords wasn’t normal for Alex.

He’d learned how true that was on the Red Siren’s deck when he and Theresa were testing the Mark of the Fool’s limits. They’d been using one of Twinblade Lu’s swords and one of her hunting knives. Alex had swung both, testing when the Mark would punish him for disobeying one of Uldar’s no combat decrees.

With the knife, he was able to take a few swings right up until he and Theresa simulated a fight, then the Mark acted to stop him. From that, he’d learned that a knife was both a weapon and a tool, so the Mark had only punished him when he used it directly for combat.

A sword, though, had one purpose; it was a tool meant for conflict, whether that was sparring, or sword-fighting, even in self-defence: it wasn’t a tool meant for peeling carrots or potatoes, it was meant for fighting. When he’d held or carried Theresa's sword, the Mark had allowed him to do that, but when it came to swinging it, even once, the Mark’s interference had put a stop to that.

That was the last time he’d attempted to use a sword, he hadn’t even tried when he'd “inherited” one, knowing how futile that would have been.

But today he was ready to try again, using the very same one he’d received from Hannah, the one he was holding.

He was no sword expert, but he could tell that the Traveller’s sword was well balanced. Most of its weight was toward the weapon’s hilt, the blade was light and sharp. Its strikes wouldn’t have the heavier cutting power of the Twinblade, but it would slice cleanly and be manoeuvrable in the hand.

Magic radiated from it: Hannah had used the sword for hiding memories, and it still had plenty of enchantments left in it.

He recognized the pathways of mana coursing through it, allowing it to have precise cutting power, strength and flexibility.

What made the sleek blade most interesting to Alex, though, was how ‘conductive’ it was.

He could easily pass his mana through it, allowing him to conduct spells through the blade, and there was a remnant of the Traveller’s power remaining inside. There wasn't enough of her energy left for the sword to act on its own, but if he wanted to channel his own power through it…

‘I bet I could channel Hannah's power through it then use teleportation on anything it hits.’ He speculated. ‘Then, I’d be able to cut into something’s body, like a Ravener-spawn, and teleport the severed part away…’

He thought about his fight with the First Apostle at Uldar’s Rise, where he managed—through a combination of brute force and Hannah’s power—rip the man's arm off.

With this blade, he could turn that from a desperation move into a regular tool in his arsenal.

That thought excited—

“Uh, Alex?” Bjorgrund asked.

“Yeah?” The young wizard startled.

“You've been staring at that sword for about a minute now…do you still want to fight?” the young giant asked.

A bright, red blush washed over his cheeks, barely hidden by his scraggly beard. He found himself glad he hadn’t gotten around to that shave quite yet. “Yeah, geez, I've been wasting your time here. Alright, let's get started. Just…could you do me a favour?”

Bjorgrund smiled. “Of course: I know what you're going to say, already.”

Alex smiled back. “And what's that?”

“You're gonna ask me not to go easy on you: don’t worry, with a warrior of your abilities and experience? I'd never dreamof going easy on you! Don't worry, ‘mighty General’. I'll give you all I got!”

Alex's smile quickly faded. “What, are you out of your mind? You're completely wrong! I've never used a sword before—for the love of all that is good in the world, go easy on me! I've got no interest in being smashed into oblivion, or being cut in half, or being ripped to shreds, or being split down the middle, or—”

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“Alright, alright, you've made your point!” the young giant cried, falling into a fighting stance. “Let's get started.”

Alex, for his part, fell into the first stance of the Spear-and-Oar dance. “Let's go.”

And he charged, the blade held high.

The young wizard was quick, and an expert at dodging the attacks of some of the deadliest foes across the planes. He literally danced around the young giant’s strikes, avoiding them with ease.

Bjorgrund grunted, swinging his weapon with deceptive expertise, considering his youth, the axe blade passing inches from Alex's body.

The young giant was good, but Alex had dealt with foes as deadly as the demon Kaz-Mowang; especially, since Bjorgrund was holding back, he could dodge the giant’s blows all day.

But, this practice wasn't about dodging.

It was about testing new combat strategies…and Alex had never wielded a sword before.

Instinct and experience told him that he should be holding his staff, peppering Bjorgrund with distracting spells so his summoned monsters or one of his friends could strike at the giant with a finishing blow.

But, he was here alone, against the towering sparring partner, and the point of the entire exercise was to use his sword.

So, after spinning around one of Bjorgrund’s wide swings, Alex went for a strike with the flat of the blade, copying a move he'd seen Theresa use more times than he could count.

It was a disaster.

His perfected dance turned into a confused rush as he tried to club the young rune-marked in a move he’d never used before.

Bjorgrund easily backhanded him before he could make it into the young giant’s reach.

It felt like an avalanche had struck; the young wizard launched off his feet, soaring through the air, slamming to the sanctum floor.

“Urrrhuhhhuhhhraaaaargh,” he gurgled.

“Oh no! Are you all right?” Bjorgrund cried, bounding over to him.

“I'm fffineee.” Alex drooled on the floor. “Just trying to put my skeleton back in my body.”

“Sorry, I swung a little hard!” the giant apologised. “You were dodging so much, then you tried that clumsy rush, and I thought it was just a feint, and you’d counter me!”

“Ugh, so it’s not enough for you to break my body, you also have to break my spirit too…” Alex wheezed.

“No, it's not like that, I—”

“I’m joking.”

With a groan, Alex pushed himself off the floor, muttering Mana to Life. His practice with tonality and body language was already making the spell work much faster. He could feel his bruises healing.

“You're feeling better?” the giant asked. “Casting that spell seems easier for you now.”

“Much easier,” Alex agreed. “And thank you by the way.”

“I'm just saying what I see: you're a lot faster—”

“No, no, I don't mean for complimenting me—I mean for smashing me like that.” Alex cracked his neck.

“Uh…okay?” The young giant looked confused again.

“You've given me a baseline: very important in experimentation,” the young wizard stretched. “Now I know exactly how well I'll do when it comes to using a sword before I apply my new Mark. Time to see how fast I improve. Give me a second.”

He thought about the previous exchange with the giant, and focused the Mark of the General on the task of infusing his knowledge of different dances into swordplay. He also had it draw on his experience with cooking and his knowledge of anatomy, focusing on using them to improve his strikes.

Dozens of successes and failures flowed into his mind, neatly ordered, showing him how the movements of dance could be used aggressively, how the edge alignment and knife-play of butchering meat could apply to his cuts with a sword, and how his knowledge on anatomy could teach him where to strike with the Traveller’s blade.

Alex smiled. “This is going to be interesting. And—”

He paused, feeling waves of emotion washing over him.

What was that? He felt concern, irritation, annoyance…and also, envy? He looked at the floor where he’d placed the spell guides, and his other gear…including the aeld staff.

It was leaning against the wall, its crystal blooms, blazing. Alex could feel jealousy, all aimed at the sword in his hand.

He grinned sheepishly at the aeld. “Don't worry, I'm not going to set you aside for a new weapon. I'm just practising with this to open my options.”

If a staff could go ‘hmph', his staff would have ‘hmphed’.

Bjorgrund looked at Alex sidelong, his eyes darting between the young wizard and the staff. “Are you talking to that piece of wood?”

“Yes,” Alex said simply.

“Uh…does it respond?”

“In a way.” the young wizard fell back into a stance of the Spear-and-Oar dance.

“Uh, maybe we should take a break…” The giant lifted his axe again. “Maybe you've been working too hard, it sounds like your mind—Oh shit!”

The young wizard charged, using the Mark of the General.

Their exchange was far less disastrous this time.

The Mark constantly guided Alex’s body, drawing on his experiences in dance, cooking and anatomy, weaving them into his and Bjorgrund’s battle. At first, the young wizard only dodged the giant’s strikes, calling on the Mark to use his knowledge of body language to learn Bjorgrund’s patterns when he fought.

Dodging the giant grew easier as his subtle tells were revealed during their fight.

Soon, the General found openings in his fighting style.

Calling on the Mark, Alex darted back in for a strike.

The Giant’s eyes widened.

Where Alex’s rush was a clumsy copy of one of Theresa’s deadly strikes before, now it was unique: a fusion of a strike from the Spear-and-Oar dance—and the aggressive movements of many other dances—and the wizard’s powerful body flowed through the giant’s guard.

Years of cooking—splitting meat and vegetables—guided his arm, joining with a swing of his body weight from the dances.

Anatomy books whispered the target to him: a nerve running through the giant’s torso.

The flat of the blade struck home with a loud slap.

“Argh!” Bjorgrund recoiled, stumbling back in surprise. “What in—how did…ow!” He rubbed his side, looking down at it. “Felt like you cut me there, did you really use the flat?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, smiling. “I really did.”

“What in the names of all my ancestors, you moved differently!” Alex’s sparring partner cried. “The first time you struck at me, you were like a drunk, clumsy animal, it was easy to hit you. Now… It was completely different, like you’d become a different fighter!”

Now the wizard outright beamed. “Did I really do that much better?”

“I'll say…and you wanted me to go easy on you!” Bjorgrund huffed. “Were you holding back?”

“No, the Mark just helped me improve really fast. I think you'll have to hold back less now.” Alex grinned.

Now Bjorgrund grinned back. His rune flashed in the middle of his chest. “Now we've got us a fight! I hope you'll let me come at you with full strength, this is fun!”

“Yeah, I can see why Theresa likes it so much…though it definitely isn't my preferred way of fighting…but still, it is fun.”

“Oh yeah! So, we go again?” Bjorgrund asked.

“You know it.”

Lifting their weapons, the wizard and rune-marked charged forward.