"Again," Varacan said.

Sullenly, Simon rose to his feet and retrieved the wooden practice sword. He was tired, dirty, and sweaty, and his lower lip stung -- Varacan had just slapped him across the mouth, hard, with the flat part of his wooden blade. "You didn't have to hit me," he complained.

"Did it hurt?"

"Of course it did." His lip was bleeding a bit, and already beginning to swell.

"Good. I've told you a dozen times to move to your right after you use that riposte. Perhaps now the lesson will stick -- pain is an excellent teacher, you know; a much better teacher than I'll ever be. Now. Let's try that again."

Simon raised his sword and began inching his way towards Varacan, looking for an opening. The other man coolly countered his every move, falling in and out of various fighting stances as Simon threatened various attacks. Finally, believing that he had spotted an opening in Varacan's defense, Simon lunged...only to realize, too late, that his teacher had only feigned the opening. He managed a remise, but it was all downhill from there; it took the old man a mere three seconds to once again knock the sword out of his hand.

"Again," Varacan said.

Topp, lounging on a nearby bench, chuckled at the scene. Simon glared at him. "You find this amusing, Topp?"

The elf grinned. "The expression on your face after he disarmed you was quite amusing, yes."

"Maybe you'd like a bloody lip of your own." He waved the wooden sword around threateningly.

"I'll pass. I'm meeting a lovely young woman in the Sarra Gardens tonight, and I don't think she would appreciate--"

"Enough," Varacan barked. "Again, Simon."

The sparring session was cut short, however, by the arrival of a young man wearing the black-and-gray livery of a royal courtier. He walked briskly across the training yard and bowed to Varacan.

"My lord," the man said, "the king wishes to see you."

Varacan put down his wooden sword and began unclasping his battered blue breastplate. "Now?"

"Now."

"Formal?"

"No, no. You needn't change. I believe he merely wants to discuss some recent...developments along the northern border." He glanced at Simon and Topp. "You may bring your wards along, if you like."

"I suppose I'd better," he said, eyeing the two of them. "Come along."

Simon was not especially keen on spending the rest of the afternoon in the castle, listening to droning councillors and officious sensechals -- he had attended such meetings with Varacan before -- but he brushed the dust off his clothes and went along obediently anyway. Topp, looking even less enthusiastic than Simon, reluctantly pulled himself off the bench and followed along as well.

The group left the training yard, on the eastern side of the lower bailey, and entered Ryswind Castle's great hall. From there, they made their way down a long corridor, climbed a set of stairs, and stepped into the king's solar.

They found King Collin sitting behind a large wooden desk covered with maps and charts. General Rindanell, the commander of the king's armies, was present as well, as was Sparen, the annoying and obsequious court wizard. Simon frowned at the sight of him; he didn't like the man.

"Lord Varacan," the king greeted. He was a big bear of a man, strong and fit, with a large brown beard and a large red nose. He had a tendency to shout everything he said. "Here. Catch."

The king tossed a coin at the old swordsman, who snatched it out of the air. "What is this?" he asked, turning it over.

"You tell me."

Varacan frowned. "Looks like Axacann currency."

"Indeed. And there's more where that came from. On his latest excursion from Fort Rally General Rindanell discovered three Dirga so weighed down with Axacann gold that they could hardly move." He slammed the desk with a meaty fist. "This is proof, Varacan. The Imperials are paying the barbarians to worry at Cartagan's borders."

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Varacan tugged thoughtfully at his mutton chops, still studying the coin. "This is...troubling."

"Troubling?" General Rindanell shook his head. "This is war, Lord Varacan."

"The Axacann Empire is half a world away, General," Sparen said dismissively. "They're no threat to us here on the coast."

"Half a world away, yes," Rindanell said, "but closing in fast. They captured Rahjaht two months ago, and according to the trolls their forces have crossed the Kintap River and begun pushing into Corilya and the River Kingdoms. And now it would appear they're attempting to soften us up as well, with these barbarian attacks."

"Rindanell is right," the king said, nodding along. "The Imperials are closing in. We must reinforce the border, and prepare to meet this threat. I'm putting out a call to arms, Lord Varacan. I want you to put at least two hundred new knights into training. And from you, Sparen, I need wizards. As many as you can make."

Sparen fidgeted a bit. "Magical aptitude is an extremely rare trait, your majesty. Almost everyone in the kingdom capable of becoming a wizard is already a wizard, or an apprentice to one."

"Almost?"

"There are a few among the peasantry, perhaps..."

"I don't care who they are. Find them and conscript them. We're going to need every wizard we can get our hands on, and every warrior as well. You are all aware, I'm sure, of the Axacann Empire's might. They control the entire northern portion of the continent now -- everything north of the Middle Sea. They have hundreds of excellent necromancers and demon-summoners at their command, and from what I've heard their elite troops are unequaled on the battlefield."

Simon had heard of Axacann's famous elite as well: the skilled Shadow Warriors and Nailknights of the far north were legendary. Varacan, who had spent time in the north as a young man, regarded them as some of the most dangerous fighters he had ever encountered.

The king rose to his feet. "That is all. I expect to be provided with regular reports on your progress."

Simon bowed to the king, along with the others, and exited the room. Rindanell and Sparen went trotting off down separate hallways; Simon and Topp followed Varacan.

"Is the situation really as bad as Rindanell makes it sound?" Topp asked. "Axacann is a nasty expansionist empire, of course -- everyone knows that -- but it's true what Sparen said: the Imperials are on the other side of the world. The Myth Meadows, the Great Forest, the Troll Kingdom, and half a dozen of the River Kingdoms stand between us and them."

Varacan ran a hand through his stone-gray hair. "They're not going to invade tomorrow. But if they are paying the Dirga to nibble at Cartagan's northern border..." He shook his head. "They have plans for us, clearly. Rindanell's caution is not unwarranted."

 "Two hundred new knights," Simon mused. "That's a lot."

"A lot of work," Varacan said. "I'm going to be very busy, Simon. I'm afraid I'm going to have to put your own training on hold for a time."

"What? But...but..."

"Perhaps this is for the best. I've been neglecting certain other aspects of your education."

"Other aspects...?"

"Arithmetic. Languages. History. Cartagan is full of history, you know. The kingdom is over nine thousand years old."

"I don't care about history," Simon sputtered. "I don't want to spend whole afternoons cooped up in the Royal Library. It stinks in there."

"Your friend Milo doesn't seem to mind it."

"Milo wants to be a scholar. I don't. I want to be a knight, Varacan. I'm ready. I'm sixteen years old, and big for my age, and excepting you I'm the best swordsman in this city. Why not make it official? Why not make me one of the king's new knights?"

Varacan shook his head. "I'm not making you a knight until you've completed your studies. Your father insisted I give you a well-rounded education."

"I can study after I'm knighted..."

"You'll belong to the king after you're knighted. I'll have no power over you then." He wagged a bony finger at Simon. "And I'm not giving you over to anyone until after you've completed your studies. I intend to carry out your father's wishes."

Simon's shoulders sagged. The king's demand for more knights had sent his hopes soaring...but Varacan, it seemed, had no intention of giving him a knighthood. "What about Topp?" he asked, petulantly. "Is he going to be joining me in the library?"

Varacan snorted. "He could stand a read a book or two, certainly," he said, frowning at the elf.

"Oh, dear," Topp said, glancing out a window, "look how late it is. And I have so many urgent matters still to attend to, before the day is out!"

"Topp..." Varacan growled.

"See you at dinner!" And he rushed off, grinning that characteristic roguish grin.

* * *

Author's Commentary

(1) I was a huge fan of the Sega Genesis RPG Shining Force. If you've played the game, you might notice the similarities between the opening of that game and the opening of this story: they both begin with a young swordsman sparring with his mentor before meeting a king to discuss the threat posed by some evil kingdom (in Shining Force it was the kingdom of Runefaust; in my story it was the oddly-named Axacann Empire). So the Shining Force influence is already pretty strong here -- even the name of Simon's mentor, Varacan, is similar to the name of Max's mentor in the game (Varios).

(2) In my original story Topp was an extremely bland and pointless character -- my original outline described him thusly: "Simon's best friend. He's an elf. He fights with a bow and arrows." (A character's most interesting trait, so far as my twelve-year-old brain was concerned, was the weapon he chose to fight with.) So I tried to give him a little more personality this time around.

(3) Some of these character names are goofy -- there's a weird mix of ordinary-sounding names (like Simon and Collin) with more exotic names (like Varacan and Rindanell). There's some even goofier names still to come, though.

(4) I'm not sure why Varacan brings Simon and Topp, a couple of teenagers who don't really have anything to contribute, to an important meeting with the king. That was the way it went down in my original story, though.