After Lumière awoke the next morning, he quickly dressed himself in casual wear and stepped into the brisk morning air of the lower borough. He was going to head to the Fencer’s Association building. Father Benedict had awoken him with a knock at his door, letter in hand. After opening and reading it, Lumière had discovered that he had been summoned by the Master of the Fencer’s Association, Dreselle Artois. Lumière had tried to, by all means, avoid the one who was called the ‘Teacher of all Knights, master of all weapons, swordsman who transgressed fate’. He was said, by all accounts, to have been the teacher of the current Emperor of the Forger Empire, who wielded the most power on the western continent. He was also the one who had taught Lumière all that he knew about the blade. The reason he was so ignorant towards his master, always tempting his wrathful punishments by avoiding him, was that the other students and ongoers of the Fencer’s Association was that the idea of their duels had become a sport- a performance to be beheld. Every time this would occur, Lumière would lose badly, for the countless decades of experience were far too much for Lumière to conquer alone.
‘Master Artois wouldn’t send a summons for no reason, however. Realistically, I have no reason to avoid him this time. He may have important matters to tell me of, but we will surely end up dueling regardless.’
Of all people that could send fear surging through his heart, Dreselle Artois was the only one who would send Lumière’s body into a shaking tremor with a mere thought. He was an old man with a calm demeanor, but the sharpness of his gaze was like a torrenting ocean storm, ready to crash onto the shore at a moment’s notice.
‘He’ll beat the shit out of me this time, too…’ Lumière lamented inwardly, his emotions already having collapsed into a sense of longing for the day to be over. If only he could have magically skipped through time, so he didn’t have to go through the experience of fighting Master Artois once more. ‘However, this time, aren’t I different? Haven’t I experienced many dreadful, frightening things? Moreover, I’ve gained several abilities-’
Lumière paused his thoughts, recoiling as he tied up his hair with a strand of twine. He then strapped his sabre to his side, checking the blade quickly for any majour deficiencies.
‘Eh? Is it really ethical to do such a thing? I’ve only ever thought of beating Master Artois with my own merit. If I do it now so suddenly, won’t that be a bit underhanded? Although, he does have many decades of experience in comparison to me. Maybe leveling the playing field isn’t so bad after all…’
As he ruminated the thought, Lumière stepped out into the brisk morning air, immediately heading for the stairs that led up to the middle borough. Heading down the main street, he wandered past the show hall. After so many weeks, it was likely that the madame had become slightly angered with his absences, but she had excused them nonetheless. Since her husband had died, she had been left to run the business of the show hall by herself, and so Lumière was sure she felt the constant weight of people's expectations weighing on her. She was amiable enough, and Lumière knew her heart was kind. She too knew the pain of loss.
Entering the Fencer's Association building, he was greeted by the basking golden sunlight that shone in through the various windows of the open hallway that encircled the large stone platform in the center of the chamber. He continued to the end of the hall, entering the room where his equipment had been stored. After he had donned his white cloak, Lumière stepped back out into the hall overlooking the platform in the center of the building.
The Fencer’s Association was, at its most basic form, just a building where those who had gained permission of the Master could come and go. They would wander by, hoping that there would be someone attending that they could bout with. Otherwise, they would practice with several wooden figures meant for striking, or the steel automaton that had been made specifically for practice. Luckily, on this particular day, there were several figures present in the building, so there was no lack of people for Lumière to choose from. However, as his eyes swept across the stone platform in the center of the building, looking past the arched hallways that overlooked the fighting area, Lumière spotted another man standing far from him on the other side of the hall. He had piercing violet eyes, and hair that looked as if it was more grey than blonde. He wore the same familiar white cloak with gold embroidery that was characteristic of the Fencer’s Association.
Lumière’s smile curved up slightly on his expression, and immediately he placed his hand on the railing, hopping over and landing far below on the stone platform. There was an intense clatter resounding underneath him, and immediately those on the large platform looked over towards him with expressions full of surprise. Still, Lumière’s gaze didn’t drift away from the man above him, who soon followed suite and descended soon after. The attendants who had been practicing upon the large stone platform snapped their gazes towards the two who gradually approached each other, and their eyes filled with a shared excitement as they made their way off of the platform to overlook the upcoming bout.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
"Hasn't it been a long time since those two have fought?" A voice resounded through the hall.
"It has, but at the same time, that magician hasn't been performing either, has he? Perhaps we'll see some of his tricks this time around." Another joked in response.
Lumière let out an audible 'tsk' before stepping forward.
'Fuck it. I can win this. It's different this time.'
"Good afternoon, little apprentice." The older man spoke genially. He had already drawn his blade, keeping it held upright behind his back as he held it with both hands, as if to keep it concealed.
Lumière bowed slightly as he spoke in response.
"To greet you once more, honourable Master Artois, is a pleasure. I'm here to respond to your summons."
Master Artois let out a slight chuckle, his gentle gaze glancing up at the dozens of individuals that had gathered above them to watch the proceeding fight.
“I sent a summons?” The old Master Artois raised his brow slightly. Lumière straightened his form, a slight amount of shock churning in his eyes as he ruminated.
‘This bastard… has he already forgotten why he’s sent for me?’
Lumière put all of his effort into controlling his face muscles as his eyebrow yearned to twitch.
“Well, forgetting that matter, hasn’t it been some time since we’ve had a bout?” The old Master’s smile curled up into a grin. “Surely you haven’t been neglecting your practice, my dearest apprentice? After all, you wouldn’t forsake my effort by bowing to your laziest traits.”
Lumière drew his sabre from its sheathe, raising it towards the man and tilting his head slightly at the same time.
“Come find out, dearest Master.”
The emerging crowd’s jeers and cheering could be heard from the rafters above, but Lumière’s focus had already drowned them out. On the stone platform, it felt as if it was just the two of them, circling each other with deadset gazes. Suddenly, Master Artois lurched forth. His blade which had been concealed behind his back soon met Lumière’s shoulder, tearing a gash into his cloak, failing to brush against his skin. Lumière had immediately raised his blade to counter, barely deflecting Master Artois’s sabre as he hopped backwards. Yet, the Master continued his offensive. He swung once more, and Lumière responded in kind. The two blades met with a resounding ‘clang’ that echoed through the hall, and sparks erupted in the air. Lumière lurched forward with his fist, but Master Artois moved his head slightly to the side with a grin still present on his expression.
‘His movement… it’s slower than last time. Has his old age finally caught up to him? His memory is faultier than ever. Is this really the decline of Master of all Weapons?’
Master Artois’s blade was thrust forward, catching Lumière alongside his cheek, sending a splash of blood flying through the air. Lumière winced slightly, raising his blade in the meanwhile while swinging his foot through the air towards his Master’s head. Master Artois raised his free hand to catch Lumière’s foot, but it had already been left behind, a white cloak left in its place. Lumière moved alongside the cloak he had thrown up in the air, slashing through it towards Master Artois’s head with his blade. The same as Lumière, a gash was left on the Master’s cheek; the teacher’s blood had been drawn, finally. A grin curled up Lumière’s lips, sure of his first victory over the most-skilled swordsman.
Suddenly, Lumière felt that he could sense the Master’s blade slicing towards his head from behind. He raised his sabre over his shoulder, blocking the strike and sending countless sparks flying through the air, his eyes widening in shock and sudden realisation.
‘I sensed it?’ Lumière’s thoughts began to churn. ‘The blood? Is this that ‘blood tracing’ that Poe’s Gnosis had been talking about? I thought foolishly that this was an ability most detectives would lust for. In a certain range, it’s effective, surely… isn’t this a bit too powerful?’
The crowds cheers erupted in the background, and Lumière was momentarily distracted as his focus dissipated, his sense of ‘performance’ lost.
“Aren’t you a bit too distracted, little apprentice?” The old master’s voice rang out. In the moment that Lumière had been distracted, the old man had slipped behind him, raising his blade against Lumière’s neck as he grabbed a handful of the magician’s hair.
‘Eh… what is with people and pulling my hair?’ Lumière grimaced. ‘Fuck… it’s always a loss against him. Even using that power I wasn’t able to beat him. Even though he’s old and decrepit… it’s worth fearing this man, even slightly…’
After old Master Artois had let go of Lumière’s hair, they stood facing each other, the crowd’s cheers still erupting in the audience.
“It was a good lesson. Thank you once again for your teachings, Master.” Lumière spoke genially, his heart feeling otherwise. He felt annoyed at his performance, and otherwise annoyed at how the old man’s failing body was supplemented by his intense skill and experience.
“Perhaps you would learn more if you would visit more often.” Master Artois chuckled, placing a hand against his cheek which still let off blood. “You put up a better fight this time. Did something change within you?”
“Ms. Faulkner tells me the same.” Lumière lamented. “As for a change within myself…”
Lumière glanced up towards the windows of the open hall above, which let beams of sunlight spill into the enclosure, a gentle smile creeping up his face.
“I would say that much.”