Marun Kíreii, second master of the Iordai Clan, eyed the written order of the great master critically. “Is he serious with this?”, he inquired.

Master Zartha nodded. “It will be… interesting.”

Marun massaged his temples. “You mean it will be interesting for you to watch?”

A wide grin opened on Zartha’s face. “Naturally. They will beat each other up. For months on end. Only… the reason for the whole thing still eludes me. Master Iordai has a lot of faith in the boy. To even go that far...”

Marun freed his sword from its sheath and eyed the weapon pensively. Then he began to polish the spotless blade with a fine cloth. His long, blond braid swayed behind his back while doing so.

“He will have his reasons. The child is only seven years old. Beats one of our students that is six years older. That had two years of training as well. Without being trained I might add. We will see, really.” Zartha glaced towards the third master of the Iordai Clan. “What do you think?

Karthan Cr’Axsun eyed him with deep blue eyes and stroked his brown full beard. “..Yes.”

Marun rolled his eyes. “Of course. Whatever. I relied the order to the craftsman in the village.

We should receive them soon.”

Karthan looked up. “We should receive them tomorrow. I told them it is important.”

Marun sighed. “You were there? Flirting with his daughter again, hm?”

After hearing her mentioned Karthan drifted his gaze towards the ceiling.

“He did.” Spoke the other two masters in unison. “Then we will begin tomorrow with the student rankings and one of us will explain the situation to Ollowyn. We need to teach him what numbers are after all. We will be busy for that day…”

Marun stored his freshly polished sword away again and sunk back onto the wooden planks of the training hall. “By the way… Should we have the fights take place outside? Some weather could be interesting too, since you fight while it’s raining more often than you would think.”

“Sure. Imagine there is a storm and snow and they have to fight outside cause the boy challenges them. Haha. I would be so pissed off.” Zartha laughed.

Marun frowned however. “We will be too, if they challenge us later. Urgh. I hate fighting in the rain. Especially when it’s for training.”

Karthan freed himself from his dreamworld and contributed to the conversation. “Ah, by the way. The great master has ordered us on guard duty for the time being. Something spooked him, I think.”

Marun sighed. “Again? Does he want to punish us?”

Karthan shrugged. “Thasun was forced to do that for weeks, because he got drunk all the time. Did you guys do something?”

The three eyed each other with puzzled faces. “Last time we had guard duty, we caught some students sneaking out into the village to meet girls. The master will have his reasons... Anyway. Let’s give them the message and explain things.”

Four hours later all the students had finished their daily work duties were neatly lined up in the training hall for Marun’s speech.

“Bow!” The students did as they were told. “Greet and sit.” Nearly forty students moved in unison and raised their fist onto their chests as a greeting before they sat down. “You all have received at least two years of training within the Iordai Sword Fighting School. Tomorrow morning you will receive a wooden badge. On this badge your rank within the clan will be engraved.”

Excited whispers went through the students.

“Silence!”, shouted Karthan firmly. “And listen.” As they calmed down Marun continued. “You all can challenge for a higher rank and fight others. A challenge can be issued by anyone that is of lower rank and has to be accepted. The fights will take place outside on the duelling grounds.”

Again discussions started within the students. They were excited since they hardly ever knew who was the strongest within their ranks.

“The challenges will be fought with Gao-ni-dai rules. Whoever leaves the ring effectively surrenders. Obvious killing blows will be judged by a third person and wounding blows have to be treated accordingly. If someone for example hits your left hand you cannot use it anymore.” Marun urged them to be quiet again before he continued.

“You all know the rules. I don’t want to see dishonorable behaviour. Every six days we will determine your ranking and see who improved and who did not. Those who got worse in rank or stagnated, will receive extra training hours!”

Now the students could hardly contain their agitation anymore.

“Self study from today onwards. Tomorrow we will begin with the fights, after you have received your badges. Begin.”

The disciples rose in unison again, bowed and then formed groups to speak with each other.

This new form of learning was not something that could often be observed within the Iordai clan. They were rather strict in their teachings and pounded that wisdom into their students at every opportunity to prevent them forming lesser and weaker styles. After all the fame of the Iordai clam was dependent on their performance once the students graduated and served as soldiers, bodyguards or teachers within the Zenshin Dynasty.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The three masters did never question the decision of their leader. For them the great masters word was absolute law. No king or emperor could ever order them to work against his interests or make them refuse a command that came from the great Ritto Iordai himself. Marun would also ensure that Ollowyn would reach his limits tomorrow, so that he would not grow cocky too soon.

“Irto!”, he called out to his best disciple, giving him the special orders.

He would take the lowest rank by choice so he could show the new boy that this would not be easy.

It was important for Ollowyn to learn respect, not only to his masters but also towards his peers. Pride was a bad teacher and the great master had chosen the boy for a reason.

He wanted to form him, so that he would grow into someone that could inherit the clan in a few years. At least, that was what Marun assumed.

Ritto Iordai hardly ever shared his thoughts with his master disciples.

The next day Ollowyn woke with his face slightly in pain. It was still swollen, but he had not sustained any lasting injuries from his fight with Mephian. Besides, he was used to his body aching. Running through the woods to hunt resulted in small scratches and bruises all the time. No matter how much it hurt, Ollowyn always kept going.

Before the sun could even rise, he had already hunted down breakfast in the woods. A young bunny, that had been careless in the morning twilight, was quickly grilled on a fire and eaten. Strengthened and highly motivated, he returned to his sleeping spot, grabbed the bamboo sword and went straight for the training hall.

To his excitement many of the other students were already practicing and a few were even fighting in the duelling grounds outside. A wave of motivation had hit the place as everyone seemed eager to prove themselves. It didn’t take long for a master to appear in front of Ollowyn.

“Fighting!”, he called out to him with a beaming smile. But Karthan Cr’Axsun did not share his enthusiasm.

He forced him to spend hours inside of a different room, studying a thing called numbers. Ollownys head started to hurt from all the thinking in this confined space.

Why couldn’t they do this outside? It took six hours and he was really glad once it was over. Luckily all this studying seemed like it was not for nothing.

He received a small wooden badge, where the number forty-two was engraved. Karthan explained the system and how he had to fight his way up to the top.

Ollowyn was quite certain that he wouldn’t have understood anything if it hadn’t been for the earlier lessons...

Determined to learn new techniques, happy that he was allowed to fight and eager to prove his power, he challenged an older student that carried the badge with number forty-one.

At first Ollowyn was weirded out by the fact that this young adult was supposed to be the weakest member of the pack.

But he soon realised that his assumption was simply not true. He was faster, stronger and more precise in his attacks and movements and hit harder.

A lot harder.

Luckily it was only one single blow that he received from Irto each fight. Because of the Gao-ni-dai ruling, hits that would be lethal with a real sword, ended the duel instantly.

It was something that Ollowyn came to appreciate quickly. He realised the skill his opponent had and fought with more respect. He tried to minimize his mistakes and attempted again and again to get blows in.

Sadly not a single attack hit Irto even slightly. Every single sidestep or dash was anticipated and punished with a stab or blow that Ollowyn had not seen coming.

Every defensive posture was bypassed. Every feint looked through.

But no matter how often Ollowyn was hit and went down, he stood up again and again.

Even when he switched to blocking the hits of his opponent, rather than foolishly rushing in, after every hit another followed that he could not defend.

Irto smashed the bamboo sword into his side again, while Ollowyn’s weapon swung harmlessly past his opponents body. Groaning he went down on his knee and gasped for air.

“One hundred and three times. Surrender. I am tired of kicking you into the dust.” Irto said with an annoyed frown.

But Ollowyn was not even thinking about it. Again he rose. “I hereby challenge you, forty one!” He spoke the usual words weakly, before taking posture.

A light step forward, the sword held high before a silent and lightning fast blow hit him hard against the left upper arm.

Ollowyn let go of his weapon with the left immediately and let it go limb. Then he tried to attack with his right. Two hard blows to the left side of his head threw him back towards the stone floor of the duelling grounds.

He wanted to rise again, yet his arms and legs did not respond to his demands.

“Finally enough, huh?” Irto rubbed some sweat off his forehead before he ordered two onlookers to bring the boy to bed.

Ollowyn was barely conscious. Over twenty students had silently watched the fights and stood about with impressed faces.

Irto rubbed his stinging hands. He was seventeen years old, had trained for six whole years and yet he felt awkwardly weak. It had taken him 104 fights to force the boy to surrender, the power he radiated was immense. Whenever Ollowyn had parried or blocked one of his attacks, it had felt like hitting a anvil with his sword. The pain had crept all the way up to his shoulder.

And then there was this iron will and determination, that just did not fit a seven year old at all. It sent shivers up Irto’s spine.

He was glad that he would now be allowed to challenge for higher ranking. It would give him a break from this unceasing child. Irto longed for a pause.

He would leave it to the brawling idiots that relished for a good fight, like Wardun and Grish.

Meanwhile Ollowyn was placed between his sheets. The soft bedding of his sleeping spot promised relief. Never before had he been so happy! He had not hit a single time! How would it be to be strong, like this student? With every passing minute his agitation rose and he found no sleep this night. The thought that others were training, while he remained idle was ever present in his head.

So he ran in his thoughts. He ran with his sword. Executed sword figures in full charge. Recalled the movements his opponent had made inside his head. Thought of his own mistakes. Played through ideas for new attacks. Next time he wanted to at least hit him!

But to Ollowyn’s disappointment, the next day it was not Irto that held the badge with the longed for number forty-one. That day he achieved his first victory in the Iordai clan. Only to realise that his new and higher position brought the fate of having to defend it against the very student he had just taken it from. Again and again he was challenged and had not time to long for number forty.

It would be hard to rise higher. Every single one he had beaten would return again and again to take what he had and what he fought for. The further he rose, the more students were challenging him for his badge.

To Ollowyn... it was paradise.

~~~~~~

Master Zartha eyed the trainings bouts thoroughly. “The boy is truly astonishing. He does not doubt his way. Tries to fight again and again, no matter how often he is beaten down. As if he only knew how to rise.”

Master Marun nodded. “It is incredible. I have observed him over the last few days. He is testing new tactics and styles and improves himself after every loss. After the fights he trains. Early in the morning… he trains. Without rest.”

Karthan snorted. “Seven years old! It is creepy, really. Thasun really has brought a beast back home. Did you tell any of you where he had found it?”

The other two masters shook their heads. “No. And master Iordai still does not want to tell me why he thinks that we will be attacked soon. Do you think this has something to do with the child? No way, right?”

Marun snorted. “Well, maybe the great master is really getting old… He has not stepped out of the sanctum for weeks. Do you think he is training again? Last time he trashed the place after he was done… It was scary.”

Zartha shrugged. “You both think too much about this. We were ordered to stand guard. We already suspect that the boy has something to do with it, so let’s keep an eye on him? I will pull six of the older students to guard duty as well. One of you just has to watch over Ollowyn.”

Marun gave up trying to get out of his duty. Zartha and Karthan were both too dutyfull and would most likely force him anyway. Sighting he turned to get his armor. He would miss the comfortable trainings robes for the next few hours.

The suit of armor in the Iordai clan was special. Compared to other armor they only had a black mask forged of durak steel that merely resembled a helmet. Additionally they wore black robes, that looked exactly like their white training gear.

Only two key differences existed. First off all there was a hood that was always worn with the mask. Secondly there was a chainmail worked into the fabric and the whole outfit was quite a bit heavier than cloth.

The chainmail ranged down towards their knees. Thereafter followed leg protectors made of blackened common steel with comfortable leather boots. After the three masters were finished dressing they stepped outside into the night and were already completely concealed by darkness.

For master Marun it wouldn’t be a nice and slow evening though. Ollowyn had just left his sleeping spot to train. It would be a pain to keep track of him all night…