“Master Calemviir, you have a prospective student.”

The office, located at the very back of the main building, was a simple one, considering that its owner was the leader of an elite exotic fighting force. Calemviir himself sat behind a medium-sized wooden desk, dressed in metal armor from head to toe. He looked as if he’d just returned from a training mission, with his sweaty brow and slightly dirt-stained face. There was a long, silver, hook-shaped scar on his upper lip.

He was by no means a slender man. Broad from shoulder to waist, Eric could tell that the man was all rippling muscle and ferocious strength, even with the armor concealing everything but his face. His jaw was square, and bright green intelligent eyes shined out under shaggy dark brown hair. Even leaning back in his chair, he intimidated Eric in an instant. This was a fierce, deadly warrior, there were no two ways about it.

“Master Calemviier, may I present Eric Breeden,” Tokugawa said smoothly. “Eric, meet Calemviir Aegis, Master of Issho-Ni and shield of the people.”

Eric dropped his head into a respectful bow. “It is an honor to meet you, Master Calemviir.”

Calemviir leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk and studying Eric over clasped hands. Those green eyes seemed to peer deep inside him, studying his strengths and weaknesses. Time almost seemed to come to a stop as Eric kept his head lowered, waiting for the man to speak. Even his silence was oppressive.

“Thank you, Ehran,” He finally said. “Please stay for now. You’re not required for training until after dinner hour.”

“Indeed,” Ehran Tokugawa said. “Very well, I shall remain.”

Tokugawa leaned back against the wall of the office, his arms crossed. The fingers of his left hand caressing the spike tattoos on his forearm, he too studied Eric with distinct interest. Eric’s discomfort was pushed to the side as part of the situation registered with him, and he turned to look at Ehran.

“Tokugawa,” he muttered. “Isn’t that the last name of the God of War?”

Ehran grinned at him. “Surprised it took you so long to catch that. His adopted son, Tobito, was my grandfather. Our family has led Issho-Ni for nearly five-hundred years, with the exception of Master Calemviier here.”

“But you’re my second,” Calemviir commented. “So it’s not like I stole it from you.”

“Hey, no complaints here,” Ehran said, spreading his hands to the side briefly. “I’m not made for politics. I’d rather fight and sharpen my skills.”

“Moving on,” Calemviir muttered, returning his attention to Eric. “What sort of training are you looking for? You don’t look like you’d use a broadsword or anything of its size.”

“No,” Eric agreed. “I use a sword and shield. Are there any mentors in Issho-Ni who can help me there?”

“There may be,” Calemviir replied slowly. “But if you’re seeking a mentor, you have to-”

Ehran cut across him. “Why do you carry the shield? You don’t look like the typical muscle-bound brute who uses one. Why not put another sword in that hand?”

Eric looked at him, surprised. Truth be told, he had never considered trading the shield out for something else. “The thought had never crossed my mind. I was given the shield, so I used it.”

“Hmm,” Ehran said, rubbing his chin. “Try this out for size.”

He lifted his own left hand into the air, and there was a flash of movement at the wrist of the hand. He was suddenly holding a very short and slender blade, offering it hilt-first to Eric. He took the weapon with raised eyebrows, marveling at how light it felt in his grip. At Ehran’s encouragement, he flipped it so that he was holding it point-down, and gave a few experimental cuts. It felt quite natural, which was a first for him in Ahya.

“I thought so,” Ehran said with a laugh. “Keep that, then. Ditch the shield or sell it, I don’t care. You clearly don’t need it.”

Eric frowned down at the weapon in his left hand then at Ehran, trying to gauge the sincerity of his words. He was pretty good at reading people, a habit picked up from years of customer-service jobs. His gut was telling him that Ehran was being genuine. He slowly tucked the smaller blade into his belt, muttering his quiet thanks.

“I thought you didn’t want an apprentice, Ehran,” Calemviir commented dryly. “Have you suddenly changed your mind?”

“Nope,” Ehran replied instantly. “Nobody passes the test, nobody gets to follow me around.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Test?” Eric asked. “What test?”

“My rule for apprenticeship is simple,” Ehran explained as if the answer should have been obvious. “I don’t take apprentices unless they’re good enough to hit me.”

“Moving on,” Calemviir said again. “As I was about to say, each of the Masters in Issho-Ni has their own requirements. If you wish to learn from them, you must prove that you will be a good student. Our Masters are recognized for their own expertise, and their experience in battle. They won’t take every student that comes along. Some won’t take any at all.”

“You should also avoid trying to join more than one,” Ehran continued. “They do not like applicants who are… undecided. It’s all or nothing.”

“That’s a large barrier to cross,” Eric said after a significant pause. “Out of curiosity, when am I allowed to fight you?”

Ehran studied him in silence for a few seconds, a slight smile curling across his face. He almost seemed amused, and perhaps a bit impressed, by Eric’s question, as if nobody had ever dared to take his challenge head-on. Not that Eric was doing so, but he was sorely tempted by the light of challenge that appeared in Tokugawa’s eyes. Finally, the smile widened into a grin.

“You may attack me at any time,” he said with a laugh. “Even at night, when I am asleep. If you cut me even once, even with the tiniest of contact, I will accept you as a student.”

Eric was never one to take chances, either in work or life. He liked to keep things simple, within his own comfort zone. He was good at his job because he was good with people, even if he hated the majority of him. He was good at gaming, writing, and music, which suited him perfectly. He’d even been good at basic martial arts, in a time when he’d been more active. But he’d never stepped too far, or taken on any challenges that seemed insurmountable.

Yet here he was, in a brand-new world, with a wealth of new opportunities lying before him, if only he would reach out and grab them. Here was a master, recognized by the Captain of the most elite fighting force in the city (if rumor was to be believed). He could politely refuse the challenge, walk away, and find training elsewhere for less effort. Or he could step out of his comfort zone. It’s not like he wouldn’t be lacking for chances.

“Any time?” Eric said. “No matter what you’re doing at the moment?”

“Correct,” Ehran said, his eyes lighting again. “Even right now, if you want.”

“You’re expecting it now,” Eric said. “I’d never succeed.”

“I’m always expecting it,” Ehran countered. “That’s what keeps me alive.”

They stared directly at each other, the silent challenge rippling through the air in their locked gaze, only brought back to the present by Calemviir’s slight cough. Jumping slightly, as if he’d forgotten that the Captain was there, Eric turned back to face him.

“I take it you’ve chosen who you want to train you, then,” Calemviir said dryly.

“Yes, sir,” Eric agreed. “Thank you for your time.”

Calemviir nodded, then gestured for him to dismiss himself as he settled back in his chair again. Eric left the office alone, looking back to stare once more at Ehran as the door slowly closed. Ehran was watching him with a curious look in his eyes like he was trying to predict what Eric might do. Good luck with that, Eric thought. Even I don’t know what I’m going to do. His plan couldn’t be predicted if it didn’t exist.

Traffic had resumed its chaotic bustle by the time he returned to the main road. He joined the mass of people heading towards the Market District, his head full of the meeting with the two highest-ranked members of Issho-Ni. The chatter of tired farmers and energetic shoppers washed over him, making no more of an impact than the almost non-existent breeze that came from the river to the south.

He purchased an apple from one of the food booths and munched on it moodily, sitting on a low stone wall that bordered the main market area. He kept reliving the meeting as he watched the people go about their shopping, purchasing everything from precious gems to common work tools. Everything a person could ever need, for any occupation, could be found here. And with yet another Market Day coming up, more and more wares were appearing, offered by merchants who wore flashy outfits, made elaborate presentations, and called for customers in loud, flamboyant voices.

It was hard to believe that, in a week’s time, he’d have been in Ahya for a month. The time in this world had been especially difficult for him to grasp. On Earth, there were seven days to a week and an average of thirty days to each month. But then, of course, there was only one sun and one moon to contend with there. But in Ahya, there were two suns and three moons. Time was different, but perhaps a little simpler for it.

Each week was five days long. Four for work, one for prayers and temple visits. People rarely worked on the fifth day, so Eric equated it to Sunday in his mind. The days in Ahya were Bago, Oraw, Gitna, Buwan, and Banal. There were four weeks per month and ten months in the year, an eerily perfect number. Each month had its own name, of course, but Eric had failed to learn them properly, yet. He had enough to learn without a whole new language.

Having a day or two off in a row had previously been a rare relaxing treat when he’d lived on Earth. It gave him a lot of free time to play games, find new music, and catch up on writing. He often treated himself to a good meal with his rarely used cooking skills. Here in Ahya, when left to his own devices, there was nothing to push away the waves of boredom that swept over him. He could find another job, of course, one that worked between the days that he was needed for Master Rainhall’s escort. But that sounded exhausting, and he’d rather find a more interesting use for his free time.

He briefly entertained the idea of finding Emma and spending more time in her company. They’d grown to be close friends in the short time he’d been in this strange world, and he wondered if there was a chance for them to be something more. She was definitely his type. Curvy, vivacious, and mischievous. Spending time with her was definitely the high point of his time in Ahya. But she was probably busy with her shop, creating healing potions and tending to injured or ill patients. He’d better not interrupt her.

With a heavy sigh, Eric tossed the core of the apple over his shoulder and got up from the stone wall. There was really only one thing that he could attempt just now, and it was certainly an exciting prospect. Ehran had said that he’d be reporting for training after the dinner hour. He hadn’t said where, of course, but there was really only one location. Eric adjusted the straps on his leather vambrace, a slight smile curling across his face at the thought of his new challenge.