Well, if Emma was away for at least a week, there was only one other thing left for him to do, Eric thought. Before he knew it, he was running down Market Street, turning on to the Queen’s Road, and heading on his way to the outskirts of the city, where the Issho-Ni dojo was located. He fancied that he could hear the students and masters training even from this far, and a broad smile formed on his face as the thought occurred to him.

The streets were much emptier now, after only a few hours. The majority of the city’s residents were either working or out shopping, which left the way clear for Eric to continue his jog. He only had to move out of the way for the occasional horse or carriage. Nobody paid him much mind despite the armor and weaponry he carried, clearly assuming him to be one of the countless employed soldiers on a job. While he did have the intention to start working as a guard once again, his mind was occupied by only one thought.

Once he reached the edge of the Issho-Ni property, he slowed down to a walk, bobbing his head in greeting to the single white-robed figure posted at the entrance to the compound. The man looked at him in some confusion, probably trying to remember where he knew Eric from, or why he looked so familiar. Before he could rally his memory, however, Eric had passed him and made a beeline for the main dojo building.

The first thing he noticed upon entering was that, to no surprise, there was a class being held. Master Calemviir and another, new master he didn’t recognize was teaching. They seemed to be giving a practical demonstration involving broadswords, putting emphasis on their footing and careful lateral movements. The students, all of whom were dressed in first-year robes, were spell-bound as they watched the masters at work, carefully remembering every little detail they were offered.

There was also a small group of older students, along with one master, sitting at a table in the far corner from the door. They had their heads bowed over a large piece of parchment, and they had serious looks on their faces. He wondered what that was about, and if they were discussing anything related to Attos. He remembered how much trouble the old King was causing with his invasion of the city. Anya had attacked him not long after that. But she was in prison, and so not a threat to him.

“Ah, Apprentice Breeden.” The voice broke into his thoughts, startling him. He whirled to look for the source and saw that Calemviir had spotted him at once. As usual, nothing slipped past his notice. “So good of you to return to us.”

Eric gave a hasty bow to the Captain of Issho-Ni. “Good evening, Master Calemviir. I am overjoyed to return.”

“Master Ehran is out at the moment, teaching a class at the College,” Calemviir said. “You can wait in the back for him to return.”

“Of course, Master,” Eric said politely, bowing once more as he saw the eyes of the apprentices dart to him. “Thank you for welcoming me back, sir.”

“Not at all,” Calemviir said in his deep voice. He turned back to his class, then, as if struck by a sudden thought, looked at him again, then gave an unmistakable beckoning gesture. “Please come here, Eric. I would like your assistance in a demonstration.”

This didn’t come as a surprise to Eric, who had been part of dozens of practical demonstrations during his training under Master Ehran. He took his boots off at once and padded barefoot into the sparring circle, giving a brief bow to the new Master as he departed to lean against the wall and spectate. He stood, feet braced as far as his shoulders, with his hands clasped behind his back, in the traditional soldier’s rest position. Issho-Ni didn’t have a strict policy on how he should stand while awaiting orders, but he felt this was sufficient.

“If I remember correctly,” Calemviir said slowly, glancing down at the swords in his belt, “You use two short swords.”

“Yes, Master Calemviir.”

A quiet order and two wooden short swords were produced from the rack on the wall and handed to him. He gripped them firmly, feeling the familiar weight of the practice weapons, then stood patiently, the points directed at the ground by his feet. Calemviir took another few moments to deliberate, then called a passing older student over, telling him to arm himself. Likewise, he entered the sparring circle barefoot, holding a long curved sword.

“One of the most crucial lessons in your training was constant movement, right, Eric?”

“Yes, sir,” Eric said again. There was a pause as Calemviir raised his eyebrows, and he realized that he was expected to explain more fully. “Master Ehran taught me that the best defense is a fluid one. If your body and soul are fluid, they cannot be predicted by the enemy. The river knows the rock that splits it, but the rock knows not the sea.”

Calemviir gave a nod of approval as he perfectly recalled the old adage drilled into him during his training. “Well said. Well, you will spar against Proficient Kitagawa, and demonstrate how you use motion in your fighting.”

“Yes, sir,” Eric said again, half a second sooner than Kitagawa. He’d never met the older student personally, but he thought he looked familiar from his frequent visits a little over a year ago. Made no difference, either way, he thought, flipping the blade in his left hand and lifting it in a back-handed grip. His right sword came up to point, at an angle, towards his opponent. He was pleased that he could so easily remember his posture, even after a year away.

“Begin!” Calemviir said firmly, once he’d stepped outside the circle. Kitagawa moved before he did, sweeping his longer blade in a scything upward cut aimed for Eric’s torso. He shifted his weight to his right foot, pushing off of it as he jumped to the side, letting Kitagawa’s sword whip harmlessly through the air. Balanced precariously on his left foot now, he turned his body to the right, pivoting smoothly as his left blade knocked the longer wooden weapon up, breaking the guard.

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Eric pulled the maneuver short with his right sword held a centimeter away from Kitagawa’s rib for a moment, then broke away with a slight bow. Kitagawa looked a little taken aback at the sped of his reaction. Eric hadn’t moved too fast for him to notice. The surprise came from the exact move that Eric used, which was a unique strike that belonged to Master Ehran’s personal Bladesinger school. Coming to his senses, he returned Eric’s bow, a concentrated frown on his face.

The second bout was a bit longer, as Kitagawa was aware of Eric’s specialized training. He was more cautious in his attack this time around, merely poking and probing at Eric’s defense and knocking away any attack that Eric sent his way. Kitagawa had the clear edge in skill and strength, though Eric was faster. The longer reach of his sword defeated Eric’s attempts to get in close, and he was wise enough to hold his ground as Eric spun and leaped. The momentum of his Bladesinger training gave him tremendous force, but it meant nothing if he couldn’t come to blows.

After about a minute, Kitagawa seized an opening in Eric’s movements and whacked him painfully on the inside of his knee. Eric staggered under the effect of the pain, refraining from cursing aloud, but only barely. They separated then, and Eric limped a few feet away to stand ready, shaking his bruised leg slightly. Kitagawa didn’t look apologetic about that last hit, but nor did he look smug. There just wasn’t enough time to pull the blow, he knew.

“Excellent work, Kitagawa. You as well, Breeden.” Calemviir stepped back into the large sparring circle, giving a vague gesture for the two combatants to relax. “Now notice the way that Eric moved. While his moves were unique, they showed the benefit of constant movement. A still body is a still mind, and thus can be easily captured by the enemy.”

Kitagawa and Eric bowed again to each other, then to Master Calemviir. They started to turn to leave the circle when a voice called from near the door. Eric recognized it at once and spun quickly to view the speaker before he even finished his sentence. It was Master Ehran. Strangely, he didn’t seem upset at Eric’s presence. He didn’t even look remotely sad or confused. Rather, his eyes were dancing with that challenging sort of look he got whenever he was about to put a tough challenge in front of his only student.

“Surely, another demonstration is in order,” Ehran said. “Breeden and Kitagawa are tied at one point apiece, after all. I’m sure that they both have more to show us.”

In spite of the emotions that welled up in Eric’s chest as he saw his mentor, he grinned in reply to the obvious challenge. Let’s see if you can still keep up. He turned to raise an inquiring eyebrow at both Calemviir and Kitagawa, both of whom looked a little taken aback at the sudden interruption. Then Kitagawa caught up to the challenge, and Eric could see his eagerness to prove himself shining through the surprise. Calemviir looked between the two, then shrugged slightly.

“Why not,” he agreed. “Well then, let’s see what you two have. Begin!”

Eric was the first to move this time, hoping to strike before Kitagawa was ready. But his first two sweeping strikes, high and low, were intercepted and knocked away. Then the longer sword flashed out in a thrust that he sidestepped. Pivoting away, Eric’s left sword flashed out in an arcing jab for Kitagawa’s shoulder. It very nearly connected, but his opponent managed to lean away just in time, forcing Eric to finish the spin, stumbling slightly with the lack of contact.

Eric jumped back as Kitagawa swung his long sword, clearing the weapon’s reach before darting in once again. Ehran’s presence and challenge had inspired him to put his very best effort in. It was no longer a simple sparring session to him. He peppered Kitagawa’s defense with a few rapid strikes, and the clacks of the wooden weapons filled the silent circle of watching students. They gasped in awe at the ferocity of both fighters’ strikes, eagerly whispering to their neighbors, discussing who they thought would win.

As Eric forced Kitagawa to take a hasty step back to avoid his left sword slashing at his rips, Eric seized his chance to disrupt his opponent’s balance. Instead of swinging for an attack, he jabbed his right sword between his opponent’s knees and lunged forward. His body slammed into Kitagawa’s and the wooden sword behind his knees prevented him from keeping his balance. He was knocked prone. Eric darted forward before he could recover and tapped him lightly on the chest with his own weapon.

Enthusiastic applause broke out among the first-year apprentices as Eric took a step back, offering Kitagawa a respectful bow. He then held out a hand to help the older student to his feet. The Proficient had been annoyed at first at the maneuver Eric had pulled, but now, outside of the furor of the sparring session, he was forced to recognize the ingenuity of the move, and accepted the defeat with good grace. He accepted Eric’s hand and offered a bow in reply once he was standing.

“Excellent work, you two,” Master Calemviir said. He locked eyes with Ehran, exchanging a silent conversation, then gestured them out of the circle. “Thank you for your assistance. Go and have a rest, now.”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused, then crossed to the wall to return their practice weapons. Kitagawa nodded his farewell before disappearing deeper into the building, and Eric waited patiently for Ehran to approach him. He knew he would, though he couldn’t be sure what would happen now. The fear of rejection still lingered even after the challenge. What if Ehran really did refuse to teach him again after being away for a year? He would blame the master if it were him, as Ehran didn’t know the full story of why Eric had been in Milagre in the first place.

But when Master Ehran approached Eric by the rack of weapons, his face was split by a broad grin. He seemed genuinely pleased to see his student returned, though his eyes seemed heavy with some repressed emotion. He quickly pulled Eric in for an embrace, which the apprentice returned with confusion, then held him at arm’s length, looking him up and down.

“That Megan girl told me you’d be back soon, and that you’d be good as new,” Ehran said. “But you’d never know you’d been injured, looking at you now.”

“You’ve met Megan?” Eric yelped. He knew that Megan had mentioned meeting his mentor and that she’d told him about knowing Eric, but his teacher’s expression seemed to hint at the fact that he knew more than Eric expected. “Wait. Did she tell you where I was?”

“Bragg was the first to tell me,” Ehran admitted. “He explained to me where you are really from, and why you came to Ahya. I met Megan by chance when she and her friends came for some training in group combat.”

“Ah.” It was all that Eric could think to say. He hadn’t expected this turn of events, but he couldn’t deny a small pleasure in hearing that he had no more secrets from his mentor. “Well, yes. I’ve been away for a while until my memory returned. But the moment I remembered everything, I begged Samuel to bring me back.”

“But of course!” Ehran said, an unfamiliar jovial energy about him as he clapped Eric on the shoulder. “You still have to do your part to save the world, not to mention finishing your training. And now that I know what your true objective is, I can teach you what you’ll need to know. We start tomorrow, at dawn. Bring the wolf pup.”