09th day of Brownleaf, tenth month of the year, 983:

A few weeks have come and gone. An almost inhabited castle had turned into the eyes and ears that witnessed the birth of a new army. The sounds of striking steel resonated again in the less wild part of the main garden of the castle of the capital of the barony of Alpin. And, on a smallish garden privy only to the nobles of the Ashen Household, a mirror of that training was reflecting a change.

Near enough to the training grounds of the army to hear the screams of the instructors, Soral did her best.

“Your footing is a mess again, correct it!” Resonated Noct’s voice, as he parried an overhead strike from his sister. He parried again, now a stabbing attack, “Your grip is too weak and unstable, strengthen it or be disarmed!” He now back stepped an horizontal slash, quickly darted forward and struck the sword of Soral with such force it went flying for the fifth time in the last two hours.

“Go back to the basics, another 50 swings. If I see your footing wrong again I will throw you to a bush.” Soral, without the energy to even protest, went back to the swings. Her brother, not being the kind of man to only order around, did the same thing.

One strike always perfectly followed the last one, all of them overhead strikes. He was twice as quickly as Soral and he was the textbook example of how you had to do it. Keeping an eye on his sister, his intuition didn’t fail him. At Soral’s eighteenth strike her legs gave up and she started to fall. Noct quickly grabbed her by the collar of her training shirt and half carried half supported her to a nearby bench. Once she was seated, he passed him a bucket of clean water. Taking a light gulp, she vomited the water and started to drink.

“I warned you, keeping it up for over two and a half hours this early in your physical training would do more harm than good. You hold up this far thanks to stamina recovering magic, not that this method is not specially healthy for the body.” A tiny grimace came and went so fast Soral didn’t catch it.

Between gasps, Soral argumented “....you train three hours with twice the intensity…”

Not knowing how to act, or talk, in front of his sister, he went for his usual persona. Not that the tantalising illusion of returning to be a decent brother wasn't there. “And I have been at it for fifteen years. You, on the other hand, started last month. You are better than average, yes, but you will start risking permanent injuries if you keep relying on magic.”

“Shut up and evaluate my performance….already.” Getting tired of the nagging for her personal safety, she changed the topic, slowly fixing her tired breathing.

Noct looked ahead and thought for a few moments, “You are chasing after speed because you feel frustrated you can’t land a hit on me.“ With a serious expression and looking back at the training session, he commented.

”Chasing after speed will only give you haste, and that’s the mistake a lot of trainers make. Haste is an illusion of control. And the only thing it's going to do is get yourself killed after an opponent with half a brain side steps one of your very fast strikes that leaves you wide open after killing your balance.”

“What you need is technique. Technique will grant you some control over both the future actions of your opponent and your movements. Control over your swordplay will eliminate the need for speed almost completely, but it requires timing to position yourself and your sword where it needs to be. Feetwork is an absolute necessity too. These are the three things you definitely lack.” He let that sink in for a moment,

”You focus too much on hitting and not on preparing nor planning the hit.“ He looked around the garden and his gaze fell on a tree and, raising a finger, he continued with a mocking grin, “I can shoot thirty arrows towards that tree and miss every single one If I don’t aim the damned shot. And that's the idiocy you are commiting. You are waving around your pointy murder stick with the most speed and strength you can manage. Furthermore, you are praying to Dice, God of Luck and Probability, for it to hit or for your opponent to fall asleep from boredom.”

“....Technique ain’t helping me against you, bastard. Every tactic you have teached me to read an opponent doesn’t work on you!!.” She had gotten so angry she had forgotten both his exhaustion and the bucked she had on her hands, that, with her mad gesturing, had gone flying and would have drenched Noct if he hadn’t stopped it with the shadows’ of Soral.

Laughing, feeling a lightness he hadn’t felt in years, he continued his diatribe, “Because I spent two years eliminating all those little clues of where my strikes would go. It isn’t going to work against me because, unlike you, I do not have an inherent talent in swordplay, so I made do with hardwork and workarounds. If you were training with the new recruits you would be at the top of the whole bunch. You got a talent for murdering people with steel twigs. Something I don’t.” A small laugh, “But, to be honest, once you start mixing your swordplay with your electricity magic you will be a pretty good knight.”

“....and how should I start doing that?” Soral asked, surprised by seeing a side of Noct she had almost forgotten about and shocked by the quantity of energy Noct was wasting on her whims.

“Well, you have the normal way, using the sword as a lighting rod to aim your strike,“ Getting up, Noct formed several small rings on the zone where the blade of the sword joins the guard, aimed the tip of the sword towards the tree and activated the magic rings. Electricity formed and travelled from the rings towards the blade. From the blade it flowed towards the tip, and the lighting was liberated in an explosive manner, hitting the tree and almost toppling it down after setting it on fire.

After Soral took in the original take of ‘swords are staffs’, Noct continued explaining the other way while ruling the shadows to put out the fire, “The other way would be to launch the spell on your own sword, and using the electricity that your blade now holds to get an edge over your enemy.” The circles activated another time, this time the sea of electricity stayed on the blade. He did a few slashes on the air and discharged the electricity on the fifth strike like the spell before, now cutting the tree in two. ”You can also mix the two, making the opponent doubt whether you are casting a spell or just adding more challenge to the duel. An unpredictable enemy is more dangerous than one you can read.”

“....I see.” She rose from the bench with shaky steps and casted a similar spell, but her electricity was more condensed, more fluid, and changed between colours as Soral was infusing it together with other elements. He felt impressed with that progress, as weaving two elements included balancing the mana to feed each one separately and not empower one over the other, a problem that would result in a conflict between the two hereby reducing the power and, worst case, destroying one another.

“Elemental enchanting, uh? Even better then, I’m sure you could…..” Without letting him finish, Soral jumped out of the bench and did an overhead strike, aimed now at him. The electricity danced wildly in her sword.

A soundwave resounded in the garden as Noct blocked with his own sword surrounded by shadows that ate away the magic. It didn’t stop there either, the shadows destabilised the magic spells and caused the lightning to shake and wobble, causing it to explode and send shrapnel everywhere, which the shadows conjured by Noct blocked.

Feeling proud by the ruthlessness of his sister, Noct looked with his usual evil smirk at Soral. The look of sheer murder destroyed his newfound pride and awakened a new turmoil. ‘Aren’t you happy? You have teached her how to kill, a necessary skill in your realm, right?’. Using his usual persona to hide the turmoil inside, he continued talking with a progressively colder tone.

“As I was saying before you interrupted me, while you could synergize your fencing around your magic, always remember to seal it well from the interference of other mages, or you risk having a ticking explosion in your hands. Your spell circles had no countermeasures for foreign mana, overcharging it and diluting the mana in the part of the blade, that would otherwise hit me, was child's play”

“I didn’t know you were an expert on fighting everything.” Spat Soral with venom. ‘I do not need to beg the church for help. I will do it on my own.’

Fury winning in his internal war, he muttered darkly, “Do you think the only ones who fought me to the death were farmers with sharpened sticks? You are a child playing with swords. Act like one. This little angry act could have scarred or even killed you, never play smart with magic on metal objects near you. And that's without including my possible retaliation.” The air around froze with Noct’s words, and Soral gulped without realising.

Noct started to raise his hand, fury trying to overpower his turmoil. The flinch of her sister, almost a reaction born out of instinct, froze it. Lowering it again, he turned around without daring to look at her slightly cowering figure and walked towards the castle. After a few steps, he stopped and said. “Get some rest, if I see you training more today I will lock you up.”

“Ye-yes.”

Noct didn’t dignify that butcherer affirmation with a response and went to his study, cleaning himself with magic on the way there, guilt having surfaced.

………

The bureaucracy of a barony was not comparable to a county, so it shouldn’t take too long to sort out for an average household. Usually, barons had some leeway and a lot of free time even after all their duties. Noct, after having streamlined the bureaucratic progress of his barony, had collided against a problem he didn’t know he had. A lone man would be hard pressed to administer all of a barony, no matter how poor or small it was, it was a labyrinth of resolutions, documents, reforms and chaotic budgets he had to manage all alone.

Having traded the sword training sessions of today to give, or order, Soral the duty of introducing the new farming method created by the Druids, he had managed to cultivate the farmers’ loyalty to his sister without anyone realising. After all, she was bringing them a discovery that would revolutionise their earnings.

The proven research was the Albestus four-course system, a rotation farming technique that, he thought, would bring a new era to the agricultural system of his barony. It stated that there was no need for periods of rest for the ground if all of the cultivated parcels followed a simple yearly rotation of the farmed crops. A year of a high production but exhausting crop, like cold wheat [a version of common wheat edited with magic to resist the cold of the north, invented by Jil five years ago, one of the Druids he had brought to the guild three years ago], followed by a second year of tuber plants, like cold potatoes, a third year farmed with legumes or cold barley; and the last year of clover or undergrass for the livestock. It had been in the trial process, hence the adoption of it only in the barony’s Guild’s farms near the city.

It gave harmony to the crops and supposed a great increase in efficiency. Before, only his personal farms had implemented this method, and the harvest had looked like an illusion, it barreled all expectations. Now, Soral would convince all the farmers to adopt it, bringing them fortunes and turning their loyalty towards Soral.

Still, he had more pressing matters that he had to take care of. He revised the paper work from the total rebuilding of the slums, someone knocked on his door. Noct sighed and gave his permission.

“Enter.”

Looking up from his papers, he almost dropped the quill he was holding. The new High Commander, Andras without a surname, had entered his study.

“Sir Regent, I came to report the current state of the army.” Andras announced, his long lost medals proudly shining again in his chest plate.

“Go ahead Commander.” Said Noct while moving his quill again.

“The voluntary conscription efforts of your sister are going well, and there are a lot of new recruits. Still, the state of our standing men at arms still leaves much to be desired. I would like to request to divert some of the workshops to the production of armament. What’s more, with the new plans of expansion we would need more barracks to house the troops.”

“Rejected.”

After waiting a few seconds for an argument, Andras asked. “Could I ask you for the reason, Regent?”

“Building up our military costs money, money we do not have the leeway to invest in a sinkhole like the military. Forget about returning to the fifteen hundred men at arms our latest baroness had. The five hundred that are left are enough.”, a small pause, “If you really insist, you can up that to six hundred and create a program to train the peasants who volunteer as unpaid militia. The blacksmiths are more useful in keeping our economy afloat and this is a decree.”

“It’s been twenty years since we have sent troops to the republican front. We should send at least ten hundred men or you could be accused of light treason and insubordination, Regent. Our countess has already sended a new wave of troops.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, High Commanded, it is indeed treason.” Said calmly Noct, without looking up from his documents, ”Our barony isn’t in the state where it could afford to maintain a military force outside of its borders. I’m not sending men to starve for a war that I have forgotten why it started. They want my men? I doubt they will redirect troops towards us nor do I believe they think our barony is needed”

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Andras looked to the completely empty hallways, having forgotten the current state of the castle, and nervously closed the door. Waving his head in disbelief, he asked. “Can I be frank with you, regent?”

“Denied.”

Andras clenched his fist, the feeling of hitting Noct growing stronger. Breathing heavily and doubting his sanity for what he was going to say, he started, “Noct, I don’t know what mind games are you playing, but are you sure you can truly walk this path? I heard you have fought yet again with the church and I too do not approve of what happened in the main square, not that it matters now.” Getting exasperated at Noct, who was ignoring him, he raised his voice a bit. “Noct, you are isolating yourself from the last supporters you had. Do not tell me you think you can get your sister to renege on his desire to judge you and get…..”

The sound of a fist punching a wood table was heard. Noct had now raised his eyes and asked with a calm voice.

“High Comman….Fine. Andras, you want a heartfelt chat? You shall have it. I do not care how many enemies I make. The more fall I take for this blasted netherhole of a barony and the more people I can rally behind my sister, the better.” Anger now distorting his voice, he asked. “And why do you still care? You are already in my sister’s ship, enjoy the job you got back after I tore it from you, sell me with the discussion we just had, rebuild the life I destroyed once.” A dark tone came to his voice, ”Or do I need to….

Now was Andras’ turn to be angry, “Do not dare to finish that sentence.” Sighing, he looked at his clenched fists, remembering what Noct had said when he had dismissed him as if it was yesterday. “You know, Noct. I have been thinking a lot these past years. You know, I still owe you five lifes from that revolt. But you owe me two. And I am calling those debts now.” Nostalgia slipped into his voice. “We fought shoulder to shoulder for five years, old friend. In the forests, in the plains, in wherever. I trusted you with my life, you delivered. You trusted me with yours, I did as well.”

Walking towards the table, he looked towards the poker face he had grown tired of seeing. Sitting in the chair in front of Noct, he whispered, doubt apparent in his voice, mixed with hope and guilt, but he pressed on, wanting to believe in his old friend and redeem himself.

“It took me too long to realise a simple truth, you never would have had the guts to harm my child. You looked delighted when I presented you to my wife, you knew that day I trusted you. You were there when she died, holding me up on the worst day of my life. You fumbled that threat and I just realised. If you had really intended to, you wouldn’t have warned, you would have done it.”

Trying to find the eyes of Noct, a gaze he was refusing to meet, he bellowed, “I pray to the Gods now, tell me…Answer me!” The unasked question now asking for its answer.

Noct’s gaze went back to the documents and stood silent for many seconds, long enough that Andras almost started again before Noct talked.

“Do you remember when I first challenged you to a duel? It was two months after my parents died. I think you already know why I did it. Even if it wasn’t logical, no matter how much my mind told me it was foolish,” He met Andra’s gaze, “I have always hated you for surviving that day.”

A laugh with a ting of madness after, he sighed and whispered, ”For how could I not? You, a rising captain, a Commander to be, so skilled with the sword you were the second best of our barony, held the servant’s quarters and survived the coup. But the Lords you had sworn to protect died, alone, fighting against the guards you had helped train.” The sound of a quill breaking resounded in the room, “I still remember the beating you gave me, for how could a novice beat a master even if said master was plagued with guilt and went easy on the kid.”

The whisper slowly gained strength, “The next year I spent training, with or without your lessons, mostly alone. The second duel was over in five strikes, and your well intended praise felt like a mockery. The next two years I spent working on a strategy to counter your swordsmanship.” A laughter without humour nor fun resonated again. ”Now you know why I am so hard to predict when fighting, old friend. During the five years I fought with you, at your side, in the training or in real combat against bandits, monsters or other men at arms, I came to see you as a close friend, but the hate never banished, for every battle that we fought your skill was but a reminder of the things I thought you had failed to protect.”

His hands trembled a bit. “Do you remember the farmer revolts, I think that was the first time you had struck me out of anger. It was a normal revolt, they were anxious by the new taxes they feared that would suck them dry, and got working with some bandits. Killed some of our troops, of our friends. I got blinded by anger and tried to burn it down with the army, and you stopped me. But fool, young me went at night, and burned it to the ground with everyone inside of it. When you heard it you punched me right in the face and spent countless days lecturing me. Too late to make a difference, too late to save those villages. More villages turned on us, and my fury grew. But you worked your ass off and succeeded. Not one more village was burned down. But the dead can’t be brought back.”

Looking back down to the papers, Andras couldn’t sense the crack in his voice, lost on the awful memories of the past, but his voice turned into a whisper again, “You were trying to make me a better man, Andras. But a broken tool won’t be repaired with thoughts and prayers. And I had started to fear everyone, for how could my paranoia not get worse? The only one who had not betrayed me had been you. But I still couldn’t forgive you, even after what you told me when you got drunk one night after returning to the city. That you still dreamt about that night, that you still had nightmares about not being able to save them. I…I got scared, what can I say? Hate was all I knew, the only thing making me a capable regent, for that was my sole support, I feared that if I tried to walk your path I would become useless, and doom our barony. I knew, and know, of only one way to command. And that is fear.”

Force coming back to his voice, he continued, “Trying to be better would only grant me a solace I know, and knew, I didn’t nor deserve. So I took the only way I could have. I knew you well enough to know what things you wouldn't be able to forget and aimed for those. The army had to go too. too much coin going down the drain.”

Andras almost asked him to stop talking, “You know? My resolve almost failed me, I almost doomed this barony for mere sentimentalism. I had come to like you too much. Almost surrendered to the change.” He got up and walked to the window, leaving his back to Andras, the black sky returning a watery gaze.

“I had met your kid, Andras. He was one of the few things in this city I truly wanted to fight for. He was too small to fear me too. A nice illusion. You ask me if I would have truly harmed him. Had you not complied, it would have been my only choice. And you know I am capable of that, I have done it already. There’s your answer, Andras. You tried to better a rotten bastard. A noble but foolish decision.” Sadness he thought he had hidden well in his voice slipping in, he finished, “Feel no shame on having tried, hate me for not bending.”

“Noc….”

“Dismissed, High Commander.”

“Bu…”

“Dismissed I said!” The sound of a hit hitting the stone wall sent waves onto Andras, too shaken up to follow his heart, a mere repetition of that scene so long ago.

Saludating, he got up and opened the door. Before he could leave the room, he heard Noct speak again.

“High Commander Andras, I have a maximum priority order.“ The surprised expression of Andras gave way to despair after hearing the next part. “As you know, there’s a person who poses a high danger to our rightful Lady, Soral of Ashen. They had a pending judgement and I know they are facing the death penalty. I know you are second to none in the whole north, High Commander Andras,” Cold determination in the voice of Noct. he stopped the charade. “If I, Noct of the Ashen, try to run away from the judgement my rightful Lady bestows upon me, you are to hunt me down like a vermin.”

Before Andras could process what he had heard, quickly turning towards Noct,

“That’s an order. If you have nothing more to discuss, return to your duties.”

Andras opened his mouth, not knowing what he wanted to say. Soon enough, he gave up and answered in resignation. “It shall be done, Regent. I will return to my duties.”

Still in front of the window, quill broken, Noct didn’t look back.

Leaving the room and walking to the meeting he had with Lady Soral, he grimaced. He didn’t know Noct still conserved the quirk of not handling pressure well. He may be old, but he knew when someone was blatantly lying to him.

“Elenia, forgive me. I was right all along, it had been a bluff.” Walking faster and faster, he could but face the storm in his mind off foot,

…………..

“We are quickly purging the loyal guards of the Regent, not that there were many to begin with.” Reported Sorak. “Adding to that, the majority of the independent guilds and merchant stores have quickly jumped towards our faction thanks to our promise of destroying the barony’s Guilds. We will lose some short and mid term profits, but I think the influx of new merchants and businesses will breathe more life into the barony.”

“Great. How is the military going, High Commander?”

“....”

“High Commander Andras?”

“Ah, yes, pardon me. The majority of the old soldiers were working jobs, unofficially, in the Regent’s Guilds, so they had no knowledge of battle. The majority could be officially sent to those guilds, some to private jobs on their fields, but a fourth that is battle ready still remains. They are fiercely loyal, as the majority don’t have families or are freed slaves. The regent gave them a job and a purpose and their training is top notch. I don’t know what to do with them in the long term, as sending them away would weaken our barony but they are also too loyal and would oppose your orders before the coming of age ceremony. What do you want to do with them, my Lady?”

“A shame, but If they are only seventish it won’t matter even if they are the elite. Better, get them to help with training. As our aim is to instruct from scratch the six hundred men Noct had let you command, we need skiller teachers. After that, I doubt we would lose with a nine to one proportion.”

“......”

“Have you doubts about the plan, High Commander Andras?” Asked Soral.

“If I’m being honest, training together with men that I will have to kill doesn’t sit right with me. Is it really necessary to do a coup? Hasn’t Noct swore with magic that he will give you the barony after trying to fix it?”

Soral sighed, “Andras…., he could very well fix it by burning it all away. And his exact wording was “once I rescind my regency onto you, I will confess and face my rightful execution”, he hasn't swore to necessarily hand me the barony. He could simply not rescind it. I will not face the same fate as the old allies of my brother. You should also know this by heart.”

“....”

“If there is nothing more to discuss. You are dismissed.”

……………….

Andras exited the castle, immersed in his thoughts. Did he really forgive Noct? No, he didn’t think so, those weren’t things that could be forgiven. Nonetheless, he didn’t want him to let him be killed by his own hand, and he seemed really keen on letting his sister kill him to gain her the approval of the common people. They had fought too much together, lived together too much for their comradery to disappear so easily.

He looked to the city as he walked down. It looked healthier and bigger than before, but it had an oppressive atmosphere. Noct had both improved and worsened it. ‘A rule by fear.’ Deep in thought about his feelings, he almost didn’t hear a young woman calling him.

“A, uhm, sir?” Asked a young woman with a fruit basket in her hands.

“Yes madam, what do you require from the castle?” He tried to locate the guards, without success, before remembering the “rescheduling” they were suffering right now.

“I wanted to give this to our Lord, but there were no guards anywhere, so… I don’t know if you can guide me or if I should give it to you?”

That took Andras by surprise. He inspected the woman and saw she was a bit terrified of the almost abandoned castle.

“If you want I can take it from you, but if you want to give it to him in person you can follow me.” Not really wanting to face Noct right now, but not willing to let her wait any longer, he helped.

“I would be really thankful!”

“Then follow me”

Touring her around the castle, they both realised it hadn't been dusted in a good while, the kitchen was in top condition thanks to its regular use, but there was little else that could say the same. The lack of any type of furniture or anything else helped to maintain that ghostly aura.

After reaching the workplace of Noct, Andras took that as his signal to go back to his own home. He had done enough butler work for a month.

“Here he is, you only need to knock and he will attend to you, so, if you would…..” Seeing as the young lady was starting to have second thoughts, her face starting to pale a bit, he silently sighed and knocked himself.

“Come in.”

Andras opened the door and the surprised face of Noct, who almost dropped a document on the ground both, amused and saddened him.

“Emm, I-I-I wanted to give this as thanks for saving me!” Said Mulia.

Recognition coming to his eyes, Noct answered, “....there was no need, after all, my inability to maintain public order was the one who put you in such a position.” His words were not the prelude to him grabbing the basket, as he did not do the slightest effort to grab it.

Gaining more and more confidence, she pressed, stepping forward, “You saved my life, it's the least I can do.”

“I repeat, I was doing my job, anybody would have done the same.”

“But nobody did.” This time, the dark tone which cooled the room hadn’t come from Noct.

Andras, seeing this was going nowhere, intercepted. “My Lord, if she truly wants to repay you, why don’t you hire her as a maid for the castle.” Scheemed Andras, hoping for, what?, he did not know. But at least he was enjoying the surprised expressions from Noct. He was darn tired of his poker face.

“What?” Two voices rang out at the same time.

“Of course, it would not be an easy job, but you would have a room, food, and a worthy pay. Our Lord appreciates hard work after all.

“What are you…”

“... Yeah, I would be honoured to work here, if you would have me, of course.”

Noct, who just wanted to finish this paperwork before midnight, thought she wouldn't hold it for a week, so, wanting to finish this quickly and go to sleep, he accepted, “Then you are hired, come tomorrow. Dismissed.”

Andras didn’t even dare to hope that the old habit of Noct of not thinking things through when he was tired was still there, yet here it was. He had to contain his laughter as he remembered how a tired Noct burned down his military tent at midnight because he was cold and thought a firebolt would warm him quickly.

“What are you laughing at, High Commander Andras?”

“Nothing, my Lord.”

………….