“Same attack?” Zigmund frowned as he waited for his next move. “No.”

Clank!

Zigmund's sword tried to deflect the tip of the shaft with a quick slash. It failed as this strike was too forward-heavy. Behind it was Allan with his whole body weight.

“Damn, where did he learn to wield a shaft like that? I am wondering what he would do with a spear, polearm, or a glaive.” Zigmund wondered, but he had little time for that. Thrust continued and, in a blink of an eye, came to his body.

All of sudden, the attack stopped as Zigmund tried to catch it once more with his grip. Allan's attack backed away, but in an unexpected way, another attack was down below the waist.

“Shit.” Zigmund dredged with his upper body back. Missing him was the other end of the shaft, which Allan turned around his waist.

“Damn, where did you learn to wield it like that? You look quite proficient with it already.” Zigmund asked with a shock in his eyes.

“You dodged it quite easy.”

“Of course. Who do you take me for?”

“I am an over-thinker. The shaft is used like this, isn't it? Flexible, yet unexpected.” Allan said as he turned the shaft around his palms.

The middle part of the shaft was smooth wood with a few strides of leather, to make stances more comfortable. The shaft itself can be used with both hands, and even with a single one. Thrust, chops, deflects, swings, and so on are possible single-handled, or by two hands stances. Allan did so with both hands.

It seemed easy to maneuver it around his palm as it traveled around his hands. Zigmund could only imagine what sort of mindfuckery this boy went through in his head. His talent is obvious.

Using it in combat was another thing, of course. Allan was trying his best, going all out. Since he had a willing instructor, he could feel at ease.

Zigmund found his answer unreasonable. What he generally said was correct, but the implementation was different. What was a shaft? Pole? Pillar? Cane? The shaft was only a piece of wood that could be used in a lot of ways. It could have attached sharp metal to the top or anything to make it different from a wooden pole. It could be even a singular pole, with nothing at all but wood. Similar is a spear and glaive in its structure. Though, it is also safe to call Allan's weapon a staff. That would be more correct.

Allan figured out a small tip of the iceberg about the martial weapons what is known as the shaft. A long-handled type of weaponry that could have all sorts of types and makers.

“Shaft is both excellent for attacks and defenses. What do you know?” Zigmund said with underlying truth he knows. As a soldier, he trained with everything that he could. Knowing the weapons means knowing the disadvantages of the enemies.

“Nothing much. I want to learn through these spars. Isn't it what we all agreed on?”

“Fair enough. Let's continue.” Zigmund no longer wasted his time recovering from his stressed elbow.

The clash continued for more time. Sometimes defending, other times attacking. Allan defected, failed, hit, backed away, and, at the end of a few moves, hit Zigmund on multiple occasions.

He was getting more and more comfortable with his new state. With enough time, he knew he would one day, reach a position where he would be able to fight someone for real.

Not like it mattered now. He did not even know who he wanted to fight for real.

Be it the Northern tribes or Nation of the Dawn. All of this was outside of his reach. That was at least what he knew for now.

Sarey watched the show with more interest than before. Not cheering for Allan, as she did not want to distract him. She already put her spar behind her back. Not thinking too much into her tries in her spar.. She knew that there was some capacity in her for improvements, but what they were for? Upcoming war? She did not even know if it was coming soon. It was a minor reason she accepted Zigmund's spar, but she would not admit to that. Could it be because of Allan's gift? Could be.

With a thud, a sudden thrust of Allan, who made a malicious move, forced Zigmund away. Hiding his thrust from the weird position and thrusting with great speed forward. It was hard to catch this sort of attack without trying too hard.

Be it the tip of the shaft, it was tiny, and Zigmund realized its quality. He could force it to break down if it was a wood alone. Unfortunately, the small tip of Allan's staff caused trouble for him. It was too well crafted and hard. There was no way he could destroy it unless he tried his best with a different weapon.

“Phew. Good. Good. Let's end this today.” Zigmund said with some difficulty. He did not hide his willingness to compromise. Sometimes, less was more. Allan had plenty to think about for now, and he was tired after 3 spars.

“Thank you, mister Zigmund.”

“Call me Zigmund if you want. Bah! I am beaten. Take care of yourself, kids.” Zigmund wasted no time with them. Backing off from the courtyard inside, he made a tactical retreat as usual.

Allan did not find this strange at all. He could hear small giggles from a familiar voice not so far away.

“He doesn't like defeat,” Sarey said in amusement.

“Did I do well?” He asked with an unsure tone.

“Yes. The staff is easier to describe than taught. You sure are talented, don't you think so yourself?” She asked the question of what might force Allan to acknowledge his own abilities a little more.

“Staff? I guess that is a better word to call this. Though, I am not that great. What you see doesn't mean what I feel. I suspect with the way I overthink it through my darkness, it's more of a pity than anything else.”

“It won't change my opinion. Do you think hard work means less talent? That is a wrong assumption!” Sarey added in seriousness.

“We can talk about it on another day. I will leave for the rest of the day in my smithy.” Allan kept his staff by his side as he left behind the door after Sarey's help with direction.

After those two spars. He felt the heaviness in his head. Not tiredness, but confusion, excitement, and worry. He did what he did. Clashing with Zigmund with all his might to know where he was at the moment. To his feelings, it did not seem as if Zigmund went all out. Not even if he did the correct moves. All he could tell was that Zigmund kept going, not stopping with no changes. Not stopping, and hitting him, being hit, while not destroying his confidence or body.

“Is he stronger than my father? I wonder. If the effects of energy are so strange, who has my father faced since he did not come back?”

Allan reached his table and sat down on the chair. He could feel a little ache and numbness in his tired legs and arms. Calming his mind first, before anything else. He would not bother with the last hour, for his forging to be half-assed. Calming himself down in a quick succession of breathing, his mind felt much better afterward.

Nothing would stop him from the path of forging. That was his self-reassurance. His little place of hope and confidence.

Outside in the courtyard, Sarey was left laying down after watching Allan leave to his forge. The last hour had little, yet somewhat strange, effect on her mind. She was not stressed, sad, or happy. It was a feeling of doing something with little in mind.

Although this spar left her in good mood, it did not mean she was all that satisfied either. A small fire of passion was ignited in her spirit as well. Hoping for a better tomorrow. She would find her sometimes unreasonable father to be a good sparring partner. It went according to her memories. That was at least what she thought and believed.

In a similar and kind of dull state was also Zigmund, who laid his legs on his table. Across his face was his sword, which he held with his arm. He was looking at it with a lost look.

“How poor. You poor blade. If that is your fate, I may as well toss you to Allan, and your fate will be his. Hmph! Yes. Yes. Since he is the reason for this damage. He is responsible.” He was muttering in silence.

“But, still. What a troublesome pair. I hope I did not dig my own grave with this. It would not make me any happier than that.”

Zigmund decides on a couple of things. The first was to never underestimate Allan, and the second was to be more serious with Sarey's interest. Her dreams were not his. He was not aware of her feelings much at all.

All he could do was give her a place to call home. His problem lay with the disappearance of his wife which made the relationship with his daughter a bit hard to go through.

“Fuck this!” He shouted as he smashed his table with both fists.

“What is even with all of this!!?? When did I become someone who would be such a nice person or a dull old man!? Let's stop with all this and that. If I am about to do something, I should at least do so with full vigor and courage. That was the saying what they taught me!” Zigmund charged outside his room.

Not knowing where, or what for. His sudden outburst of care was not something he kept hidden in his mind. This spar was only the start of his slow changes and both the end and the start of something new, outside of his own experience. He could accept Allan, as well as Sarey's feelings or dreams. What more he could lose?

Not much. He lost some things in life he would never go back, yet there were no regrets until his wife came to be. Or was there? He couldn't remember.

He stopped in his tracks in the kitchen. This was his home, so why be flustered? He thought.

His grip still held his sword. Walking into the courtyard, Sarey still lay aside. She was watching the sky while playing with her golden hair. Zigmund glanced at her for a moment before walking straight to Allan's forgery.

Inside, flames in the furnace were already wriggling. The temperature was rising. Allan stood by the furnace's side with a dull face but a slight smile. He did not notice sudden guests in the room.

Allan had no plans in particular for today. He could make something like the twin blades from yesterday, but with bigger volume and length. Allan considered it since he had plenty of materials. Of course, he was still unsure about the cost and value of his creations. It all ended in Sarey's hands except for the first sword, which laid not far away.

“What are you planning to do?” A deep voice sounded from behind.

“Huh? M-mister Zigmund? What happened? You don't usually come here?” Allan asked, while not forgetting the episode with 36's summoning.

Zigmund did not know what he wanted to say next, so he threw his sword on the table.”

“It is your wrongdoings since you are not even aware. That blade and repairs are something that every good blacksmith knows. How about showing me?” Zigmund tasked Allan with extra work, as well as to satisfy his curiosity.

“Blade? Which one?” Allan asked, in the uncertainty of what he meant.

“Table. I hope you will start right now.”

“Ummm. Alright.” Allan agreed with some doubts about what this was about, but choose to comply, because why would he not? After what he helped him with, he was willing to forge him a completely new sword if he wanted.