A month had passed. A month of Greyson doing everything he could to fend off the little parasite that had wiggled into his life. Yet no matter what he had done, Reuben kept coming back for more. No amount of insults or injuries could keep him down for long.
They had fallen into a routine together, and Reuben was adapting. Slowly his run times were improving. It started with Reuben completing one lap without stopping, then two. By the third week he had run all three miles without stopping. Then he began increasing his pace. Each day a few seconds were shaved off.
By now Greyson realized he had to step it up. Doing the same thing everyday and expecting new results was madness. He could no longer pull any punches, no longer give Reuben even the slightest room to breathe. He had to throw more at the boy, much more. Stepping it up a notch as the two of them ran, Greyson flicked his finger at Reuben.
A lump of dirt lifted through the air and knocked into Reuben’s side, nearly sending him tumbling over.
“The hell was that for?” he demanded, but he did not stop running. Not for a second. Seems Greyson would have to send even more against him.
Another lump tossed into Reuben’s calf. He stumbled over and Greyson kicked him in his back, sending him on his face.
Before another blow could be delivered, Reuben bounced back up onto his feet. He kept running and stood his ground as a wave of pebbles splashed against his side. A few feet later and the entire ground seemed to shift and churn as if Reuben was suddenly walking on a mudslide.
Once again he fell over, landing in a pile of gooey mixed earth. As he struggled to remove his muddy hands from the sticky surface, he shifted his elbow down to his side to narrowly block a punch from Greyson.
The punch still sent him onto his back despite the block. Reuben realized it was a firmer punch than the sorcerer had ever thrown prior. He was all the more glad to have been able to block it, but his forearm hurt from the effort alone.
Greyson stood over him and said, “It seems running on its own has gotten too easy for you. Therefore, this will no longer be just about speed and endurance but agility as well. We’re going to see just how well your defense is against magic attacks. If you can still run around while getting beat down and assaulted.”
“So I’ve gotten too good for just running huh?” Reuben asked, genuinely happy to hear the news that he would be getting attacked while running instead of only when he stopped. It would hurt more for sure, but he was confident he had grown quick enough to outrun anything tossed at him.
Greyson frowned. “You're really starting to wear on me after these last few weeks Besides, I’ve gotten bored of not being able to hit you. Speaking of which-”
Before the punch could land, Reuben threw himself back onto his feet. As he leapt up he scooped a chunk of mud, and threw it at the sorcerer. As Greyson spat mud off his lips, Reuben took off into a sprint in an effort to create as much distance between him and Greyson as possible. Greyson waved his fingers over his mouth and the dirt leaped from his lips to his palm like glue. A moment later and he began chasing Reuben once again, launching the mud on his palm at him.
Despite the constant obstacles and attacks, Reuben managed to make the three miles. It was mostly thanks to him keeping ahead of Greyson more than dodging anything. Casting took enough time and energy that Greyson often had to slow his pace, allowing Reuben to make more distance. In the end he had completed the course once again, having fallen only a few times.
Now the two of them stood outside the town entrance. Reuben already knew what was coming next. He had spent weeks trying to learn to dodge, parry, and counterattack. Trying to survive the rounds spent with Greyson. His movements had been speeding up and his skin seeming to harden against the constant blows, but he still-
A punch to his stomach broke his concentraton and reminded him he still had a long way to go. He kept himself upright and went for a counter to Greyson’s face, but Greyson grabbed his hand. Reuben went to pull his hand from his grip, but it was like pulling against an anchor. He was stuck in place.
Greyson went to punch Reuben straight in the nose, but Reuben managed to dodge at the very last second. That was the point he had reached. Throughout the entire session he was forced to dodge and block, and only managed to do so half the time.
Yet that wasn’t enough for Reuben. He needed more to show for a month of training. He needed to come back to the shack with more to show for it than bruises.
As Greyson went for a hook to Reuben’s face, Reuben shifted his body against it, allowing the fist to slam into his shoulder, as well as preparing an angle for his next shot. The second he felt the fist connect he thought he might tumble over, that he might be blasted off his feet, but he refused. Instead he countered immediately. With new swiftness he had gained over the weeks, he launched his fist through the air and connected straight into Greyson’s nose. As soon as his knuckles connected he felt Greyson stagger and let go of his other arm.
Reuben stood there stunned, watching as blood dripped from Greyson’s nose. Greyson stood there as well, simply staring at Reuben like a statue. Reuben wanted to know what he was thinking, to know what was going on in his head. Yet there was no time for that, he needed another shot. Reuben went to punch with his newly freed hand, only for Greyson's hand to whip forward and grab it once more, even tighter.
“Good shot,” Greyson said with a tone that almost sounded genuine.
“Yeah, well-” Reuben said as a kick landed directly into his chest. He was forced to take the full weight of the kick as Greyson held him exactly where he wanted him.
Greyson added, “Won’t let it happen again though.”
Indeed it would be several more weeks until Reuben was able to land another blow. Every hit he sent forth was blocked as he himself struggled to avoid the constant kicks, grabs, and punches Greyson dished out to no end. For the first time he realized just how much Greyson had been holding back. It was like he was fighting an entirely new person. Where before he managed to block and dodge here and there, now he had no chance. Greyson had gone from toying with him to truly beating him down.
As the days were wearing on, Reuben was slowly being beaten with reality. He was a child dueling a man, a warrior, a sorcerer. He had no fighting experience, he had no chance. No... no matter what he couldn't accept that. Yet each day the blows kept adding up, the sparring times became shorter as he broke down quicker. He realized at this rate he truly was going to collapse, he was going to implode, to shatter.
As Reuben lay there, his body trembling and blood dripping down his nostrils, Greyson merely stood there staring over him. His monstrish face sneering at him with that mix of hatred and contempt. Meanwhile Greyson laughed at himself. He had allowed himself to entertain the idea that this boy could ever become something. He wasn't resilient, Greyson had just been holding back, he had gone soft. Well no longer...
Still, Reuben was forcing himself back up. He always did. Greyson imagined if he broke the boys legs he would simply run at him on his hands. It amused Greyson at first, but now it was boring him. He knocked the boy over and this time Reuben collapsed. Maybe he was unconscious, maybe not. It didn't matter. Greyson began walking back to town leaving the collapsed irritation behind.
As Reuben lay there, he knew he was at his limit. He didn't know how long he had been there, but it felt like years. Years for the pain finally to subside enough just for him to get back on his feet. By the time he did, he saw that Greyson was gone. He hadn't fought him, he hadn't insulted him, he just left. He could hardly blame him either. Reuben felt his eyes burn. He couldn't let this be the end... He couldn't! Yet he knew he had no chance. Greyson would kill him if they kept going. He had to get stronger somehow... Some other way, but how? How?
Then he had an idea.
When he made it to the barracks he was able to take a nice easy breath. He had made it. Despite the pain and exhaustion, he had dragged himself through town and made it to his destination. He felt satisfied enough to collapse right then and there, but he refused. He had work to do. So much work and so little time.
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Walking into the barracks he was met with the sight of about two dozen men all gathered around a table. They were laughing, drinking, arm wrestling, and some even wrestling around the floor.
A few noticed him, and then a few more. Soon the entire guards were staring at him. The one from before, the Captain, walked forward, a curious look on his face.
“What can we do for you, lad?”
Reuben didn’t know what to say. He knew he couldn’t just ask for their help, that would put him below them. So instead he stuck his chest out and weakly said, “I want to take one of you on. I want a practice dummy to get stronger.”
Instead of gaining their awe or fear, Reuben was instead laughed at. He felt his face burning red from anger and shame, but the Captain holloered out, “Alright settle it down, everyone!” He turned back to Reuben and said, “I remember you from a while back. You were the one Greyson was beating on, right?”
A slow nod was Reuben’s only reply. If they had thought that was him beating on him then imagine what they'd say now...
“Thought so. Well, I can tell by the swollen eyes and blood painted across your face you still aren’t doing much better off. I can't say that I ike seeing younglings getting beaten down like that. How about this, If you want you can sit by us and eat, then I’ll take you out back for a few lessons. How’s that sound?”
“That’s fine,” Reuben replied. He followed the Captain cautiously, constantly looking at everyone around him with a mix of disdain and caution. He didn't entirely know why. Was he trying to look intimidating? Did he not trust them? He wasn't sure, it just... felt right
He took a seat towards the end of the table and began reaching at the table for whatever he saw. Suddenly his stomach was in agony from how hungry he was. Chicken, bread, fruit, potatoes. He didn’t know if he had ever eaten so well in his life. As he ate, slowly he felt himself recovering slightly. He decided he could use the guards to get stronger. Good food, daily training. He would be able to beat Greyson physically in no time. Then he would have to teach him magic. Slowly as he ate the shame and failure from earlier washed away and he felt closer to his goals again.
While everyone else continued their banter and revelry, Reuben further isolated himself. He kept to the edge of his seat and hunched over as if he was hiding something between his hands. He ate in silence, patiently awaiting his training.
Soon enough it was time for them to get up. Most of the guards headed to opposite ends of the barracks into rooms that Reuben guessed were the beds. However the Captain got up and began walking to the backdoors with Reuben following him.
“My name’s Jacobs, by the way. How about yours?” he asked as he swung the wooden doors open.
“Reuben.”
Jacobs nodded and commented, “You’re a boy of few words, Reuben. Wish a few of my guards were a bit more like you.” He paused, waiting for a reply or a laugh. When none came he continued, “So how did you get involved with that cranky sorcerer anyways?”
Answering was difficult without revealing too much about himself. Reuben refused to get too deeply into his own history, so he just said, “He’s training me to be stronger. He met me at a village. I impressed him.”
“That right?" he asked, incredulous. "You must be a hell of a kid to have done that. In all the years he’s been here he never so much as looked for an apprentice. I suppose I’ll see what all the fuss is about.”
They walked over to the small circle in the center of the field. Jacobs sighed as picked up a pole left on the ground and said, “They never clean up after themselves. Drives me crazy. Ah well, suppose it helped me this once. Alright, get a stance. I'll see what we're dealing with.”
Reuben stopped and said, "Id prefer if we start with... hand to hand. I need to work on that the most right now."
"Hand to hand, huh?" Jacobs replied, interested. He dropped the pole back down. "Well, alright. I can honestly show you as much from that field as swordplay. Guards are trained in both after all. Let's see what you can do then. Come at me and I'll work on blocking and dodging."
It was a strange feeling being on the offensive for once, but Reuben led into it easily enough. He came at Jacobs with as many blows as he could muster, but each one was blocked or parried easily. After a few minutes Jacobs stopped him and said, "Not bad, honestly. However, I think there's quite a bit we can improve on..."
So over the next two hours Jacobs began leading him through different drills. Punching Jacob's palms, practicing his footwork, learning about something Jacobs called combos. Eventually they moved into the defensive and Jacobs began improving his ducking and blocking while throwing punches at what must have been a tenth of his full strength. Reuben wanted to ask him to go harder, but he forced himself to be content.
After that, Jacobs once again picked up his pole and Reuben grabbed his. They first started with the few drills Jacobs had showed him prior then they delved into one on one sparring.
“We can just start with a few offensive movements. Come at me and I’ll block and comment on your bladework,” Jacobs explained, following the same structure as the hand fighting before. He took his own stance then gestured for Reuben to come forward.
It was only a few strikes in when Jacobs stopped him. “Alright alright. That isn’t awful, but it could be better. Follow me over to the dummy.”
Once again Jacobs showed Reuben various ways to strike and move against an opponent. Much of it was the same he had been told before, but it seemed Reuben needed the review. Likewise, Jacobs added several new tips and additional movements.
When Jacobs had finished, he told Reuben to come after him again. Reuben was forced to admit once more just how much the advice helped. He bounced around Jacob’s pole much easier and his own weapon felt more connected to his limbs then before.
“There we go. Much better. Must have a great teacher or something,” Jacobs joked. “Now I’ll come at you slowly and you work on blocking, alright? Just try not to let me move you.”
“You won’t,” Reuben said quietly. He realized it was too timid and said louder, “You won’t move me. So come on.”
Jacobs shrugged and moved forward. He threw a quick slash and Reuben barely blocked it. A lower jab to the thigh and Reuben had to turn away from it. As he did, he got a light whack to the back that was more playful than painful.
As Jacobs kept on the offensive, he kept giving various lessons. Each time Reuben moved he would add, “No, no you should have blocked.” As Reuben did block, Jacobs would say, “That wasn’t bad, but you really should be moving the blade like this instead.”
They continued back and forth for over an hour. Finally Reuben had to ask him, “Why are you going so easy on me? I can tell you’re holding back.”
“Well… yeah,” Jacobs replied rather perplexed by such a question. “You don’t know much about wielding a blade yet so this is more for instruction than proper sparring. As you get better I can go faster though.”
“No,” Reuben said defiantly. “You have to come at me with everything or else there’s no point, damn it!”
Jacobs sighed and said, “Lad, if you can hardly hold a blade properly how can you expect to actually fend for yourself in a real match? You're really putting the cart before the horse with this, don't you think?"
Even though Reuben could see the truth in that, he still felt an intense urge to try, to go all out. Even if only once. This wasn't Greyson after all. So he said, "You can tell I'm a fast learner. So just come at me and see what I can really do."
While part of it may have been arrogance, it was also impatience and anxiety. Reuben knew he had little time to improve before Greyson gave up on him entirely. He had to get better as fast as possible, he couldn't risk Jacobs not giving it his all.
So Jacobs sighed and agreed, "Alright, I'll give it my all and we can see what you're made of."
Remembering everything he had been taught that evening, Reuben took up his stance, held his pole and-
It was like fighting a bolt of lightning. Jacobs was on him, behind him, beside him. Each time Reuben struck out there were four blows all around him. Even now Jacobs toyed with him, giving him light playful whacks. Reuben swung to counter, only to hit the air and be knocked down. After a few more minutes, Jacobs stopped.
"Like I said, putting the cart before the horse. There's no rush for this kind of thing. You'll progress and get better each day, but it takes time. Listen- this town's quiet, and a bit boring. If you really want, you can come here each day and work with me and the guards. It'll give you plenty of training opportunity."
Reuben could hardly believe it. He asked, "What? Why would you do that for me?"
Shrugging, Jacobs replied, "Like I said, I don't like seeing kids get beat on. You're here because you want to be able to take on that sorcerer. I'm not... the biggest fan of him, so I don't mind helping out. Plus, maybe I'm hoping you'll decide to stick around and become a guard."
For a brief moment Reuben considered the idea. Wielding a sword, donning armor, training in swordplay. Then he remembered the guards being torn apart in his village. Their helplessness. He said, "Thanks, but I'm going to become a sorcerer."
"We'll see," Jacobs replied, with a wink. "Sun's not down yet, you up for a few more rounds?"
Of course Reuben was.
Reuben made his way back through the town. By now the Sun was setting and few people were around. He passed by the vendors picking up whatever hadn’t sold and made his way down to the collection of small huts.
Per usual he made his way for the one further from the town. One isolated from the rest as if the owner had sought the most secluded home he could. It was likely he had.
Although Reuben closed the door quietly, it hadn’t mattered. The resident was wide awake, having been waiting for his return.
“Why the hell are you back here? Do you need another reminder? Another beating?” Greyson demanded as Reuben walked in.
"Because I'm going to beat you," Reuben replied. "I'm training with the guards. Swordsmanship, punching, I'm going to go there everyday till I'm strong enough to beat you. You got that?"
While he felt defiant and confident, his bravado was quickly crushed. Greyson asked, "And what's to stop me from beating you to a pulp right now? Leaving you too broken to even make your way to the barracks? To ever open your damn hands again?"
Swallowing, Reuben said, "Give me one month. One. If by the end of it, I beat you in a fight, you'll train me, you'll teach me magic. No magic in the fight, just fists or poles, something we both know. If you beat me, then I'll go. I don't know where- but I'll go. You'll... never see me again."
For a few seconds there was silence. Finally Greyson said, "Fine. One month. At the end of it I'll finally put an end to all of this."
Reuben smiled as he felt the tension burst. He hadn't expected Greyson to ever agree to it, let alone a whole month. He knew with one month of training and with a proper teacher- he knew he could do it. No, it wasn't if he could- he had to.