Von
It wasn’t particularly flashy or powerful, but it’s what allowed Von of Redgrave to lay legitimate claim to the title of strongest, and how the human managed to fight against much stronger races.
The House of Redgrave’s ancestral Winter Heartbeat was not often counted among the most feared abilities in the Six Principalities. Its ability was to freeze living targets. This was hardly something that made the Stormlands particularly richer and despite what you might assume, it was not a mighty military ability either. You needed to strike your opponent with your sword six times in order to freeze them completely and even then only for six seconds—generally speaking, if you have hit your opponent that many times already, they were already dead anyhow.
Tuning the Heartbeat to a weaker level was similarly underwhelming, as low-tuning that required only one successful strike to trigger did not even manage to freeze the opponent at all. It merely made them feel cold, and even then for a single second. Most traditional Heartbeat usage in combat meant using them as finishing moves: magic attacks that once invoked settled the winner beyond a shadow of doubt.
Von of Redgrave, both in his missing five years and now, was the first to push forth a different theory: What if instead of thinking of Heartbeats as finishers, you use them to keep your opponent from using theirs?
Heartbeats were extremely powerful magic tools, true—but their activation requirement necessitated their user to wound their opponent numerous times first. Humans were at a disadvantage against other races and their superior physical ability to begin with, this was why they were considered generally poor swordsmen. But Von of Redgrave had two distinct advantages.
Master Cycle, the mysterious swordsman who knew of techniques no other living creature appeared aware of, and his creative usage of the Heartbeat.
“Freeze,” Von muttered as he advanced forward, “and surrender!’
Von had been injured by Ardente’s attack not too long ago. The cut hadn’t been particularly deep but it had drawn much blood from him and the young lord wasn’t used to dealing with pain like this. He wanted to finish it quickly.
He advanced forward with his sword arm extended. It was a slow movement, both due to the icy terrain and also due to his own inexperience as a swordsman. Ardente grinned at this, his face showing a sort of manic expression between thankfulness and bloodlust. “What the hell is this slow attack?” Ardente shouted.
Ardente did not have the skill to parry a blade properly. But he didn’t need to do that—he aimed to merely use his superior power to knock Von’s blade aside in something similar to a beat attack. If Von was a more experienced swordsman, he could have used a number of techniques to avoid it, but lacking in training he was reduced to rely on his raw athleticism.
And his Heartbeat.
FREEZE!
It wasn’t for long at all.
Just a single second.
Yet, during that single second, Von triggered his Winter Heartbeat, bringing about a sensation of overwhelming cold to Ardente. It wasn’t cold enough to freeze him solid or even fully hinder his movements. For his opponent, it was as if they suddenly stepped outside of their warm home for a single moment, felt the winter breeze and stepped back in. But that was enough. That single moment of distraction from the cold weakened his grip, broke his focus, and allowed Von to hold his sword firm in place.
It wasn’t the right thing to do, to clash sword against sword and Von knew that. Yet it was all he could reliably do. Steel met steel and both swordsmen were faced with a choice—should they attack?
“Listen,” Master Cycle said, “I’m giving you a crash course on fencing. But just because you know the basics doesn’t mean you can win. Remember, fencing is about high percentage moves and there is simply no way we can get any offensive moves trained well enough for you to land them more often than not.”
Von wasn’t discouraged by this. “So…what should I do, master?”
“Defense.” The response came quicker than quick and readier than ready; it was an answer that his master hadn’t needed to prepare ahead of time—it was information already deeply ingrained in his being. “It’s easier to defend than to attack. You are more likely to get hit than to hit someone if you attack, but the opposite applies to defense. So listen up. I’m going to teach you the most basic, yet most important move in all of fencing…and also the most effective one. It’s going to pair up well with our footwork practice and your Heartbeat. This move is called…”
STOP-HIT! Von cried out in his mind. He decided to defend, and Ardente decided to attack. He stepped backward after the impact with his sword arm extended forward, tip of blade aimed toward his opponent.
It is extremely difficult to aim the tip of a thrusting sword when moving forward, but it is considerably easier to simply point the sword at your opponent and allow them to simply walk into your attack. A *stop-hit (*also called a counterattack by some) is a move where you raise your arm and extend it forward, turning your wrist inward to angle the sword toward your opponent. The idea is that you place your arm and the blade forward in such a manner that if they try to thrust their own arms forward in an attack they will stab themselves with your blade, halting their attack.
It is a very easy move to do, although the hard part comes in actually remembering to do it in the heat of a match. Fencers are drilled very hard to remember the move and even the best of the best fail at times. But stop-hits were the only technique Von knew how to execute well and all he was focusing on, which helped him maintain his game plan.
This is a move that ignores your opponent’s speed. You don’t even have to see them move. Even if they are so much faster than you that you can’t see when they start their attack, provided you have your counter set they will still hit themselves with it regardless—it is the cornerstone of defense in combat between two fast thrusting swords.
“AAAAGGHHHHH!” Ardente shouted. His reckless attack forward caused him to fall prey to Von’s stop-hit. It’s a funny thing, being hit by a stop-hit. If you aren’t aware of the technique, your brain will not process it immediately. It will feel as though the opponent hurt you somehow but their blade positioning does not work with your mind. In that hazy, confused fury, Ardente rushed forward one more time—and was again caught by the attack.
One more hit, Von thought. Now, I have hit him a total of five times…and only activated my ability once. This leaves me with 4 entire activations. Good.
Here his Heartbeat’s true terror showed itself. They clashed blades again and Von’s Heartbeat caused that sudden cold to invade Ardente’s body once more, causing him to slip and get hit one more time—a light thrust to the shoulder. Hardly damaging at all. But enough to trigger his Heartbeat again.
Have you ever stepped outside into the cold, then gone back inside, but then had to go back outside for a moment again? The sensation adds up. Slowly, you start to feel your hands go numb, whether due to the extreme cold or the repetitive change in temperature, and you desperately wish for nothing more than constant temperature. Von’s Heartbeat forced that sensation on his opponent—his limitation made it stronger.
Keep attacking Ardente, Von thought, stepping backward and reading his blade in a stop-hit position once more, for as long as you want. You are getting more and more tired with every attack…it takes more energy to attack than to defend, and your attacks are pretty wild to begin with. With every attack, you make your future attacks worse. And with every trigger of my Heartbeat, your hands become number and number. I don’t have to freeze you…I just have to worsen your skills, bit by bit.
Ardente was the superior swordsman and they both knew it. This is what made it all the more infuriating.
‘He is physically weaker than me and his technique is worse—surely my next attack will connect!’ That kind of thought invades your mind and you rush in trying to finish off your opponent. Your attack misses, just by a little bit, and you think, ‘That was so close—surely the next!’ before attacking again, this time with more gusto, attempting to push over that thin line by burning more energy. It’s only then you realize that the line wasn’t as thin as you thought it was, and that the opening you thought you saw was created by your opponent.
Your barrage of attack fails, and you are out of breath while your opponent is fresh. On top of that, every small attack they land on you creates pressure, as you know your injuries are piling up. Von’s Heartbeat triggers numerous times, all harmless on their own but continuously adding up to a freezing numbness that makes your level drop even further. And as your stamina drops and your grip on your blade weakens, you spiral down as you spend more stamina to stay in the game and further usages of the Winter Heartbeat weaken your body.
If only you could land an attack, your own Heartbeat would trigger and you would automatically win. But that opportunity never comes to pass. The tempting comeback hit won’t show up even if you beg for it.
Swordsmanship is a duel of probabilities—but strategy can effectively turn your opponent’s probability of winning to zero if they make the wrong choice enough times. A mistake might not immediately lose you the point, but it might lose you the match.
There are those that compare sword fights to dancing. This is not accurate. War is more accurate. The moment you diverge your resources to the wrong place, the moment your morale breaks…you have already lost the war, even if individual battles are still being fought.
“My—my legs won’t move!” Ardente cried out, horrified. He looked up at Von with disgust. “You—you used your Heartbeat to freeze me!”
“No. You are just too tired to move them,” Von said calmly. His breathing had also become heavier by now, but he had tired his opponent enough that even a beginner like him felt like a master against his opponent. “This is finished. Give up.”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“No…I’m not going to—lose to some fucking elven lover that thinks he’s better than everyone—I’m going to prove—that I’m the best swordsman in Stormhelm!”
But Ardente stumbled forward and fell to one knee, having to stab the ground with his sword to keep himself from falling face first. His body was trembling now, and it wasn’t because of anger or the cold.
“It’s like what Kai told me…” Talla muttered, “first he takes your legs, then he takes your soul.”
You might start the match as Von’s superior. You might be faster, stronger, and even have better technique than him. But his strategy lures you into making the wrong moves, spending energy when you shouldn’t have, and before you know it your high-percentage moves are less likely to succeed now.
It was like the feeling of being out in the field and being enveloped by the overwhelming, cruel feeling of winter, as a snowstorm slowly but surely swallowed you whole, each moment freezing you up more.
‘If only I could land one more hit—!’
‘If only my magic could overwhelm his—!’
‘If only he tried to attack me—!’
If.
If.
If.
“If, if, if…’if’ doesn’t exist,” Master Cycle said.
This is what it was like to fence Von of Redgrave.
“Freeze,” Von muttered, triggering his Heartbeat and rushing forward one more time, “and give up!”
It was a massacre. Von had a very low opinion of his own skills, and this helped him avoid overconfidence: he did not commit to an attack just yet. He continued to drain his opponent’s stamina over the course of the next fifteen minutes, landing numerous small attacks and reducing Ardente’s ability to move to no more than an unathletic beginner. With a cold, calculating preciseness, Von’s onslaught drove the other man to despair.
Ardente managed a single more hit against Von’s leg, a desperate cutting motion that caught him off guard, but he was still three points away from being able to trigger his Flaming Heartbeat.
There would be no more future attacks. Adrenaline, anger—those aren’t free bursts of energy. They are actions where you borrow energy from your future self. When those feelings don’t burn as intensely, the exhaustion hits you at once. “No,” Ardente muttered, “N—no! Th—there is no way!”
Ardente fell to one knee and attempted once more to save himself from falling by stabbing the ground. His blade made contact with hard ice this time, the steel bouncing off the surface and causing him to fall to the ground. He made a weak attempt to get up but stopped when he felt cold steel pressed against his neck. “Surrender,” Von said. “I—I win.”
“Fuck you, I’m not—“ Ardente stopped at the feeling of the steel pressing closer to his neck. There would be no repercussions if Von were to kill him right there—such was the law of dueling. “I—I—I can’t—give up—this is my chance to prove—“
“You have five seconds,” Von said coldly. If he doesn’t give up, I really don’t know what I will do. I can’t very well kill him. But he doesn’t know that. “Your time is up.” He lifted his blade and braced himself to thrust it forward.
“I give up!” Ardente cried. “I—I give up. You win, my lord.”
Here the silent crowd erupted into a cheer. Not many understood enough about swordsmanship to fully know how much Von’s skills had degraded—and among those who did, there were those who thought Ardente was simply better than he truly was, as well as those who thought Von was toying with him the whole time. This was especially due to the way the match ended. To the crowd, all that mattered was that they had witnessed their young lord who had done so much for Stormhelm’s reputation across the Six Principalities showcase why he was a legendary swordsman.
And they were not shy about voicing their pleasure.
They chanted his name, clapped their hands loudly, and cheered so loud it felt as though the icy ground beneath Von’s feet was trembling. Surrounded by that crowd from all angles at first he felt nervousness as his own adrenaline and focus on the match wore off. I…I have never been in front of so many people before. This is insane, this is…
Then another feeling invaded him. It was a foreign sensation to someone like Von who had spent so much of his life locked in a room, isolated from the outside world and surrounded by nothing but his books. It was a feeling he had often imagined but never experienced before. The cheering of the crowd, Talla’s approving glance, Master Cycle’s confident head nod, his mother smiling in the crowd…it all brought upon a feeling within himself that he had never felt before.
Pride.
He pumped his fist and then shot it upwards to the sky, letting out a victorious yell.
Master Cycle
Some people said that a coach’s job was done once the match started—some people were fucking idiots. He knew better. My own coach trained me better than that. Von is gonna get the best damn training he can hope for…again. Fucking hell, starting from zero, eh? It didn’t bother him, despite what he tried telling himself. It was always fun teaching someone the basics, and Von was a good kid. The only issue was that he would have to wait a month longer before taking his break and going to see his wife, but she was very understanding of the matter.
Before any celebration could take place they were back at Stormkeep and stopped at the dueling room. “Keep stretching,” he told him. “It’s important to stretch and cool down after a match. You haven’t had a match in at least six months, we have to make sure your body doesn’t go beyond its limits. Don’t want to see you getting hurt.”
“Okay,” Von muttered, breathing heavily. He had the distinctive look that athletes do when enough time has passed after a match, when adrenaline has worn off and their muscles have started to ache. Exhaustion was setting in, but he did not disobey his orders. But he did pause for a moment. “Master Cycle…did I…did I do well today?”
He put a hand to his student’s shoulder. “You did fantastic. You won and started to claim back your old fencing style too.” For the most part, anyway, but he didn’t need to hear that. “I barely even had to teach you that. Soon as you realized what tools you had at your disposal, you made the best plan possible and took yourself to the next level. That’s the kind of thinking that will take you to the next level.”
“Is that truly fine, Master?” Von’s voice was low and betrayed more hesitation than the boy probably wanted to show. “Your style of swordsmanship is very aggressive. Is it fine for my style to be so defensive?”
“Your style should be yours,” he replied gently. “Just be yourself.”
Von was silent for a moment. “I…I still have a lot to work on. My plan only worked because my body is so athletic right now. This isn’t something I earned. It’s a remnant of whatever person I was in those last five years. Even then, I was still incredibly incompetent compared to my past self.”
“You were.” Von looked up at his master in surprise. Expecting me to coddle you? No. I will make you stronger. And I will tell you when you are being too harsh on yourself. But I will not tell you not to correctly assess the situation. “But today was a good first step and you could not have done any better. It will keep improving. You know what your weaknesses are, so we will tackle them one at a time.”
“I just don’t know what to do. There’s so much to work on. What should I…” Von trailed off and smiled at his coach. “Ah. You told me before, Master—more.”
His coach felt extremely proud at that moment.
Talla
Von of Redgrave had insisted on this arrangement and compromise was warranted after his performance today. He had given her the honor extended to every guest and agreed to a meeting in the hot springs beneath the castle, but he had a wooden divider set between the two of them to protect her modesty. “You are an odd man, Von of Redgrave. I feel like another in your position would have taken advantage of this.”
From the other side of the divider, he let out a deep sigh. “My fair lady, considering how a formal meeting with me is important for the fate of your city, it would be quite despicable of me to take advantage of the situation.”
“Aye, my lord. And had you insisted, I would have made a request for other arrangements.”
The sound of splashing water indicated he likely moved suddenly out of shock. “But—then why were you upset before? And why did you accept this meeting right now?”
“I was upset you didn’t give me a choice. To give me the option would be to extend the honor granted to all guests in Stormkeep but allow me to keep my dignity—the way you handled things just felt as though you knew what was best for me. What if I preferred the traditional meeting?” And with the dividers in place, there was no issue, and those hot springs were the only thing this city she had never experienced before. Mother of the Forest, it felt wonderful.
“Ah.” Von let out a loud sound that indicated deep thought and he remained silent for a long stretch. Talla did not force him to speak sooner. “My apologies, my fair lady. That was not something I had considered. It will not happen again.”
Talla should have been upset he was not calling her by her name, but she had just called him 'my lord.' It would take some time until they could dismiss formalities - and this meeting still required them.
“By the Chains and the Fire, you have changed,” Talla said, laughing. Hearing him apologize was like hearing a storm apologize for the destruction it brought. It didn't feel right. She could hardly be blamed for not recognizing the man at first. It wasn’t just his physical appearance that had changed, but the way he carried himself, the way he spoke—he was a different man altogether. Also plainly obvious was how awkward he was around her. Strange, considering Von’s reputation for not having trouble finding company in a tavern, but perhaps that all started in the five years he forgot. Perhaps humans did truly change a lot in five years. Strange creatures. “It will take me some time to get used to this Von.”
“Me too,” he muttered. “Me too…”
Talla shook her head and sighed. “It seems like I failed my ancestors in the end.”
“My lady?” Von asked. “Whatever do you mean?”
She glanced at the ceiling and watched the vapor rise. “You don’t remember anything—and a week has nearly passed since that day. I swore by their name I would make you remember and agree to help us. Well…it appears as though feelings aren’t enough to warrant change.”
“You didn’t fail, my lady,” he muttered slowly.
Could it be? Her first instinct was to look the man in the eye, but instead she found herself staring at the divider and hoping he could somehow feel the intensity of her gaze. “Von? Do you remember anything?” she asked in a hurry. “Did the match help anything?”
“Not exactly.” His voice was slow and careful, as if he was both trying to avoid saying the wrong thing and attempting to put together a puzzle. “To be honest, it still feels unreal. The idea that I was this amazing swordsman…even beating Ardente today felt more like Ardente’s mistake than me doing anything special.”
“It was quite a show,” Talla said. Watching that cretin beg for forgiveness on his knees as per the duel’s terms was worth how nerve wracking watching the match itself was. “You did fantastic today.”
“But even if I don’t remember why I wanted to become the strongest…even if I don’t remember how I lost my memory…even if I don’t remember anything about fencing…even if I don’t remember what made me change so much…” Von trailed off, and when he continued, it was in a more confident voice. “I enjoyed winning. I enjoyed getting stronger. And for just a moment, when the crowd was chanting my name I remember looking at my clenched fist and wondering. ‘What would it feel like if I won the Tournament in Blade Valley?’
“So you might not have gotten my memories back. But remember your words, my fair lady. You did not make me remember much, I confess. However, this feeling…it feels familiar to me.”
Oh? The feeling of winning feels familiar to you? How arrogant of you. But truthfully, she was smiling.
“I’m too weak to fight Vandyr right now. And I don’t know how long your city has. But if you’re able and willing to wait a little longer…I want to help. Even if I have to learn everything from the beginning.” He paused meaningfully. "Truthfully, I think there is a limit in how much I can help. Even if I slay the beast, I would not be able to help your starving people nor would I be able to rebuild your cities. A champion is but a sportsman. Duels will not change this world of ours, and even were I to claim the title of strongest, it would do little to stop an army marching down on our walls."
He was starting to get addicted, to that sweet sense of self-improvement.There was very little that gave you that same feeling. Progressing down that road can be amazing…but it had its own downsides too. Talla knew them quite well. Kai… “The Tournament of the Dragon Tower happens within just under a year. If the Deathless Curse continues to only progress at the rate it has, we should have about two or three years before it’s too late. If you can win that tournament, you would qualify for Blade Valley one more time. And…I believe you would be strong enough to fight Vandyr.” She paused. “Are you certain about this? This won’t be easy. You will be giving up a lot…for people you don’t even know.” Why am I trying to convince him otherwise? Get a grip, goddamn it! You have to make him fight Vandyr!
“I don’t really know if I’ll regret this,” Von said honestly, “but I do know that my heart won’t be at ease if I don’t.So I’ll keep doing things…until it feels right.” He paused, then added, in a satisfied tone, “And this decision feels right.”
End of Chapter 5,
"First he takes your legs, then he takes your soul."