ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 4 - 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔄𝔯𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡
"The New Province – called such because it was conquered only one-hundred-fifty years ago – is the latest acquisition of the Golden Realm. It was conquered in a bloody war against the Kingdom of Geowrofeth. That Kingdom had long been a thorn at the side of the Golden Realm. Following the Religion of the Eternal Fire, its armies had launched over the centuries a series of Holy Crusades against the Golden Realm. Finally, the Golden Realm launched a massive expedition to crush once and for all this nuance. In the decisive Battle of Kriafall, King Richard the Third was slain and the Geowrofethians were crushed. Since then, the New Province has been a core part of the Golden Realm."
- Imperial Records of the Golden Realm, Volume I by Chief-Scholar Dai Yijun
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Jing kept pushing his broom over the courtyard floor with a sweeping, almost mechanical indifference. His eyes were glued on the disciples practicing various sword techniques in the center of the courtyard. He sighed, shaking his head. ‘It’s been six months,’ he thought, ‘and I haven’t learned anything at all aside from cleaning the floors. Is the Teacher testing my patience? Or is he punishing me because he thinks I am too vengeful?’
“Don’t be lazy!”
The sudden voice, cutting into his thoughts, startled Jing. “Elder Brother Yao.”
Yao shook his head in disapproval. “Look at you. Instead of focusing on your task, you are wasting your time sightseeing. Tell me; do those disciples over there focus on their training or do they waste their time looking around?”
A moment of awkward silence followed. “Eh… they focus on their training.”
“Exactly! Yet you are doing the exact opposite of that. And that’s why they are learning swordsmanship while you are stuck here sweeping floors.”
Jing gritted his teeth. For a fraction of a second, deep anger reflected on his face. But as quickly as it came, it was gone and it was replaced by a look of resignation, of complete acceptance. “You are right…”
Yao turned his back to him and walked away, leaving Jing to continue sweeping the floor.
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Jing stepped into the Main Hall. Grandmaster Rong was seated on his mat at the center of the dais. “You’ve been sweeping the floors of the Palace complex for over six months,” the Grandmaster spoke. “You’ve done a good job, but I can see you’re impatient to move forward. So let us move on to the next task.”
Jing’s cheeks glowed with excitement and his face broke into a wide, beaming smile. ‘Finally!’ he thought.
Grandmaster Rong got up from his mat and stepped down from the dais. “Please follow me.”
Jing followed the Grandmaster through several corridors and doors, finally reaching an old, wide door made of wood and metal. Rong unlocked the door and Jing walked inside expecting a training chamber. Instead, the room was a kitchen. It had a massive wood-fired boiler, a wooden oven, and a large wooden table. Meats, many vegetables, and a book were placed on the table. Jing lowered his head, and his enthusiastic smile faded away.
“Your next task is to cook meals for the disciples of Master Deng,” Rong explained. “As there are tens of disciples and you will have to cook on your own without any help, you better start early.”
“But Teacher, I am not that good at cooking.”
“That’s why there is a book on the table,” Rong smirked. “It has some really tasty recipes I’ve heard.” The Grandmaster made his way out of the kitchen.
Jing sighed. “Great!” he whined. “First I learned how to be a janitor and now I practice cooking. I guess the next martial style I will master will be washing clothes…”
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The dining hall was full of people, with the disciples seated on four long tables and waiting for the food to arrive. Jing hurried to bring the dishes and place them before the disciples. As he had no help and dinner would start only when everyone had been served, he had to sprint from and to the kitchen. Jing began to sweat profusely. He tried to slow his breathing but it was useless; his chest was heaving and his legs were shaking. The disciples began to rumble and shouted for food. Jing felt dizzy and disoriented but he managed to bring the last of the dishes.
Exhausted, Jing sat on one of the tables. As he took a bite, his face scrunched. ‘Too much salt…’ He wasn’t the only one who noticed; the disciples went into an uproar, shouting and cursing at Jing. The young man faked a smile, got up, and left the dining hall. “That went well…”
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Jing made his way to the garden. He sat on the grass opposite the pond and looked at the night sky. The bright crescent moon had appeared out of the clouds and quietly hung in the sky.
“Why the long face?”
Jing turned around and saw Xiao. Instead of giving an answer, he sighed deeply.
“The food was kind of terrible but it’s your first time,” Xiao replied. “Next time, you will do better. You cannot give up at the first sign of difficulty. I know, I know. I am not exactly the role model when it comes to discipline and persistence, but it is good advice to follow. Or you will end up like me.” He chuckled, causing Jing to laugh too.
“You are right.”
Jing jumped up and ran out of the garden, leaving Xiao stunned and gaping. He rushed to the kitchen and lit up a candle. He then picked up the cooking book from the table and began studying it intensely by the dim candlelight. His eyes were glued to the pages and he was absorbing every word.
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It was once again dinner time. After sprinting nonstop for almost fifteen minutes, Jing had managed to bring all the dishes to the dining hall and serve the disciples. Some of them had been grumbling or murmuring as he served them, but Jing had ignored them. He sat at the table and tasted his dish. It melted in his mouth. “Mmm…”
“It tastes very delicious!” one of the disciples exclaimed.
“That’s actually good!” another one said.
Jing was silent but his face radiated a smile. ‘Hard work does pay off…’
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Jing was strolling one of the courtyards of the Palace complex, watching disciples in rows practice their swordsmanship. It had been four months since he had been assigned kitchen work. Whatever delight he had taken at cooking tasty recipes had long since evaporated. His face registered disappointment.
As he walked, he suddenly noticed a woman unlike any other he had seen before. The woman was slender, of average height, had ash blond long hair and hazel eyes. She was wearing a long white silk gown. Jing figured she was a Geowrofethian, from the New Province. He was trying hard not to stare at her, but it was near impossible.
“You are Yang Jing?” the woman asked, catching him off guard
“Eh?” He paused for a few seconds to compose himself. “Yes. That’s me.” He flashed a shy, awkward smile.
“I am Master Dionisia Crépin. You can call me Dionisia though.”
Jing was surprised to hear that. She looked to be only in her late twenties. “I… me… Greetings Master,” he stuttered. He felt like a fool.
“You should count yourself lucky being Grandmaster Rong’s disciple. What have you learned so far?”
For a brief moment, the thought of lying to impress Dionisia crossed Jing’s mind but he decided against it. He had never been good at lying and he knew it. “I’ve learned to… sweep floors and cook.”
“You’ve been here ten months and haven’t learned anything?” She looked at him with surprise written all over her face. “The Grandmaster must have had his reasons for this.”
“Is it a way to test my patience and dedication?”
“I’ve heard that the Grandmaster likes to test the dedication of his disciples, but I’ve never heard before of a disciple who hadn’t been taught anything for over ten months.”
“I guess I’m unique,” Jing chuckled.
“It is not my place to teach you how to cultivate internal energy, but I could always give you some informal tips about swordsmanship.”
Jing’s face brightened into a wide grin. “Thank you,” he bowed slightly.
“Meet me at the garden at about midnight.”
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Jing stared at the sparkling night sky, filled with countless bright stars. It was a sight that never failed to amaze him. The soft sound of footsteps interrupted the silence. Dionisia appeared, holding a wooden sword in one hand and a twisted old tree branch that was about the size of a sword in the other hand. She threw at Jing the wooden sword. “Show me what sword moves you know.”
Jing swung and thrust his sword violently, aiming at an imaginary opponent. He delivered blows and parries with ferocious force. All the while Dionisia was carefully examining his moves and pondering. “You have mastered the basics,” she said. “Your moves are forceful, but you lack in technique.” She aimed her branch at him. “Attack me.”
Jing thrust his sword and she parried the strike with ease. He attacked again, swinging his weapon at her head, but she blocked it. As the weapon was blocked, he spun around, swinging it again. Dionisia parried once more his attack.
Jing charged again. The whooshing sound of the sword revealed the great strength put into the attack. Dionisia effortlessly blocked the attack with her branch. “Being strong is not good enough in a sword fight,” she explained. “Technique matters more than brute strength.”
The young man nodded in agreement. He remained still, trying to come up with a strategy to overcome Dionisia’s defense. Suddenly Dionisia sped forward and hit Jing’s chest, causing him to fall to the ground. “You must learn to think fast. Your opponents won’t sit and wait for you to come up with some strategy. If this was a real duel, you would be dead.”
Jing got up and aimed his wooden sword at Dionisia. He pretended to attack her head but midway retreated by a step and changed the direction of the sword towards her chest. Dionisia saw through this deception and quickly blocked the attack with her branch, but she smiled. “That was a good attack, but you executed it poorly.”
“Can you teach me some of your sword forms?”
“I cannot teach you whole sword forms,” the Master replied. “It is not my place to do so. But, as I’ve said, I can give you some tips to improve your moves.”
Dionisia instructed Jing on how to swiftly change the aim of his sword, to surprise his opponents. He tried to follow her instructions, but his fingers were clumsy, unable to move as fast and nimbly as his mind desired of them
Dionisia sighed. “Let me help you.” She stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his and holding his right hand to guide him. Jing trembled. He could feel her warm breath. His cheeks were suddenly pink like a spring rose. She guided his sword and they moved rhythmically. Jing was relishing the moment, praying it would never end. He felt at peace, a moment of serenity.
But all good moments must come to an end. Dionisia let go of him. “With some more practice,” she said, “your technique will improve markedly.”
“Thank you.”
A soft smile curved Dionisia’s lips. “But why are you all flustered?”
“I…” The blush on Jing’s face had extended all the way to his ears.
“I should let you go sleep. It is already late.”
“Will we be meeting tomorrow?” Jing mustered up the courage to ask.
“Mmm… No, but we can meet the day after. So you better practice those moves.”
Jing enthusiastically nodded. “I won’t disappoint you!”