Duncan threw up… again. He regretted eating breakfast that morning. In the moment, he’d been unable to resist the delightfully rich smells of the feast Cinder had prepared. Now, though, he knew it had been a trap.
“Pick it back up, Duncan!” Cinder was watching from the roof of the apprentice quarters. He sat cross-legged, with eyes closed and a smirk on his face. That smirk hadn’t left the elf’s face all morning.
Duncan’s breaths came in gasps as he rose from where he had been hunched over. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his training tunic. He was thankful he’d been gifted multiple long-sleeved tunics. It had snowed last night, and a light dusting of snowflakes had covered the training yard. Now, the training yard was crisscrossed with pathways of snowless ground made by Duncan’s training.
Cinder had started slow, at least slow for Duncan. The boy was more than used to physical training, which Cinder soon discovered. A jog around the training yard turned into sprints from one side to the next. Then there were pushups, sit-ups, various calisthenics, stretches, and more. Duncan had breezed through it all, but Cinder wasn’t about to let him take it easy.
For five hours, Duncan struggled against everything Cinder threw his way. Eventually, each exercise tested the edge of what he was capable of, only for another to take its place and force him to find a way to push through. It was hell.
Duncan had been forged in hell, though. Rhona Tell had melted him down and created a sword that could not break from exhaustion or pain alone. Despite not seeing her for years, Duncan never allowed his edge to dull or his steal to bend. He did this every day at the Academy.
“Three more, then we can break for lunch.” Cinder’s announcement filled Duncan with equal parts excitement and dread. It wasn’t the break that he was excited for. No. It was the chance to eat more of the elf’s cooking. He didn’t want to overeat just for it to all come up again, but he didn’t know if he could stop himself. It was too good.
Duncan grabbed hold of the wooden crate he had dropped after his last set. He didn’t know what was in the crate. All he knew was that it was heavy. He lifted it from the ground up to his chest, then pressed it above his head, arms extended. There, he held it and began. He extended his right leg forward, engaging his core muscles to keep from falling over. He slowly crouched in that position until he performed a forward lunge. He followed with another lunge with his left leg extended, then repeated the process, all with the heavy wooden crate above his head.
He went from one end of the yard, then back. Two more. Lunge after lunge. One more. Duncan’s legs burned, and his arms began to shake. He forgot about his pain and his fight to take the next breath. He focused on the individual movements of the exercise. Extend one leg. Squat. Rise. Extend the other leg. Squat. Rise.
He nearly collapsed across the edge of the yard as he returned to the start for the last time. Thankfully, he was able to keep his balance, though with wobbling legs and arms hanging limply at his sides. He couldn’t feel the cold morning air, and steam poured off his body from the heat coming off his body.
Duncan was tired, but he was used to this feeling. It was the feeling of satisfied exhaustion. It would only make him stronger.
“Alright, let’s head inside.” Cinder had appeared at Duncan’s side, putting a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder.
Duncan breathed in and out, bringing his desperate breath back under control as he followed Cinder into the apprentice quarters. At some point between leaving for breakfast at the main house and now, someone had been busy. The previously barren living area was now completely furnished. A table with six chairs was off to one side. In the middle of the room, a fireplace was now stocked with firewood and surrounded by four chairs and two couches. They were all made of what looked like high-tier materials.
Cinder saw Duncan inspecting the changes to the room and smiled. “We will probably be eating lunch here most days. There is no kitchen, but I’ll prepare some lighter meals and bring them over with me from now on.”
They sat down opposite each other at the table. With a wave of his hand, Cinder summoned a simple meal that looked similar to chicken, rice, and vegetables from his spatial device. The food was still steaming, like it had just been made. Duncan glanced at the ring on Cinder’s right pinky. “Does that spatial ring keep things fresh? My aunt is an enchanter, and she told me some higher-quality spatial devices could do that.”
“Yup,” Cinder replied. “It will keep whatever I put in just as it was when it entered. Nothing living can enter, though. Apparently, the time enchantments that are used don’t affect living things in any way, so it won’t even let me try to put anything like that in.”
They sat in silence as they ate, Duncan savoring the food, happy there wasn’t as much of it as there had been for breakfast. It didn’t take long for them both to finish, then move to a couple of the more comfortable chairs in the living area. Duncan was reluctant to dirty the chair’s cushion with the sweat and dirt covering his clothes, but Cinder waved at him to sit, then spoke.
“Your fitness levels are good for a tier zero. Great, actually. Humans tend to have a slight physical disadvantage compared to many other races spread throughout the realms. Dwarves are usually stronger, with great endurance. Elves can typically outrun anything but some of the faster beastkin variants. There are more examples, but suffice it to say, humans are usually at a physical disadvantage.”
“You, however, seem to be at the peak of human fitness, at least for your age and tier. I’d be surprised if more than a handful of melee fighters your age could match your overall athleticism. You have obviously not been lax in your training. I’m sure you know I was using this morning to test your limits. I found them. It’s clear you don’t need anyone to push you to train your body, so I won’t focus on that. Some of the others may decide differently… if they ever show up.” Cinder grumbled the last part under his breath.
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“So, in the mornings, for the foreseeable future, you will be warming up with a run up the mountain.” At Duncan’s brief look of confusion, Cinder clarified, “Not all the way up, just to a point part way up. There is a path leading to a nice view that many kids use to train before they have their Subject.”
“Once you return, you and I will focus on swordsmanship and combat in general. I’ll be testing your limits there, just as I have with your fitness. Before we start, though, I’d like you to tell me about the combat training you received at this academy of yours.”
It took Duncan an hour to go over everything. He explained how the Academy took in students who already displayed aptitude in their chosen field. He then detailed the minimal weapons training they underwent in the first couple of years when book learning was more common. Then, he spoke of the endless duels and team battles the Academy used to temper the students and ensure that only the strong made it to the end.
His years at the Academy had been transformative, but most of that had been because of the opportunity to refine and improve what he had learned from his mother. Five years had been enough for him to master everything she had taught him and more he had learned independently.
“Interesting.” Cinder mused for a few moments as he digested everything Duncan had said. “That kind of training does not explain the skill I saw you display in the Choosing. You may have been limited in what you could show since Phevona had you at a distance for the majority of the match, but every movement you made gave me more insight into your skill. Every time you blocked a splinter shot, there was little to no wasted movement. The three strikes you used to get through the root wall were exquisite.”
“Yes, years of duels and team versus team training exercises can be a great experience and teach a lot about tactics, but it seems to me that they put you through more battle than actual weapons training. Actual experience is important, but based on your explanation, they didn’t focus nearly enough on technique and the ins and outs of your weapon to explain your capabilities.”
The implied question behind Cinder’s comments was clear to Duncan. ‘Where did you learn to use a sword?’
A deep breath left Duncan’s lungs, giving him a few seconds to collect himself before he launched into another explanation. “My mother. Almost everything I know about the sword came from my mother’s training before I entered the Academy when I was 12. The Academy just helped me refine what she taught me through a lot of practical application.”
Cinder waited for Duncan to say more, but when he said nothing further, he asked, “That makes sense. Was she also sent to Corvelin as a kid like you were meant to be?”
“No.” The word was sharp. It cut through the air like a sword through straw. Duncan looked at Cinder, who looked back at him with a confused expression. “No,” Duncan said, less aggressively this time but still firmly.
“I see,” Cinder said. He could tell the boy was less than willing to continue on the subject, so he put it behind them. “Well, I will know more after seeing you in action, so let's get back out there and see what you can do.”
Duncan was more than happy to do just that, but a thought occurred to him as they walked out the door back into the cold. “Uhh. Cinder.”
“Yes, Duncan?”
“I don’t have a sword.”
Cinder grinned
***
So many swords. Duncan had never seen something so beautiful.
Cinder had led him to the opposite side of the main house, where a stone structure was built into the side of the mountain. Cinder had pushed right through the solid metal door leading into the building, but if the enchantments etched into the door and walls were any indication, Duncan thought it was likely a very well-protected building.
‘And rightly so,’ Duncan now thought as he looked at row upon row of weapon racks. They were filled with every type of sword Duncan could imagine and some that he couldn’t have before now. Arming swords. Short swords. Something like a katana. Giant great swords that likely couldn’t have been lifted an inch off the ground by the strongest human from Earth. And so much more besides these.
Cinder beamed at Duncan’s amazement. “Nice, right? If you haven’t figured it out until now, the O’Leon family likes swords. Most of us do, anyway. My wife and daughter aside, almost everyone who grows up in this estate is trained as a sword user. So, we have a lot of swords here. These aren’t even the higher-tier swords. This is just the collection of old swords our family members used before reaching tier four.”
Duncan was speechless. He’d had a lot of swords over the years. His mother had trained him to use a standard, double-edged straight sword with one or two hands, but he’d expanded some of his training in the Academy to other types as the practical view of swords his mother had drilled into him transformed into a love of swords and swordsmanship.
This was something else entirely. This was a legacy. A legacy of love and mastery. It was a legacy Duncan now had the chance to be a part of, if he chose to.
“Pick one,” Cinder told him. He had moved over to one side of the armory. “These racks are all filled with tier zero swords. Don’t think too hard for now. You will have the chance to train with a lot of these over the next couple of years. If you stay, that is. For now, just pick one you’re comfortable with. One you can use to show me what you can do.”
Duncan moved to the weapon racks Cinder had pointed him to. Almost every sword looked mundane but beautiful at the same time. The pure devotion to function was more beautiful to Duncan than any adornment possibly could be.
He tested each sword, just as he had at the arena. Taking them off the rack, checking the balance, and taking a few practice swings. He even checked each sword’s edge.
“The enchantments built into the walls keep everything sharpened and in good condition. It doesn’t replace the care of an owner, though, so I’ll expect you to treat any sword you use as though your life depended on its condition.”
Duncan nodded. He would have done so without Cinder’s warning, but it was nice to know the elf was of a similar mind to his own.
In the end, Duncan did as Cinder said and chose a sword he was comfortable with. It was similar to every sword his mother had trained him with. Double-edged. Straight. Able to wield with one hand or two, depending on necessity.
Cinder smiled. “That was mine when I was your age. How fitting.” He grabbed a similar sword from the same rack, then led Duncan back out of the armory and through the once again falling snow to the training yard.
They lined up across from each other, each sizing up the other. “We won’t worry about dulling the swords. You won’t be able to hurt me no matter what, and I’ll be able to stop before making contact. I’ll suppress my speed and strength and won’t use any Abilities. This will be all about swordsmanship for now.” With that, Cinder took his ready stance and waited.
Duncan advanced.