Von
There was no crowd this time. There were no stakes either. It was a duel that would take place away from prying eyes, in the underground practice arena in Stormkeep with only Master Cycle and Talla as witnesses. Winning or losing should have meant very little now. There was no pressure about his family’s or his guest’s honor. Yet Von’s heart was pounding now, racing faster than it had before. And he found a grin across his face that he could not shake off.
I have always respected Lobo’s legend. Knowing that I have fought him before—knowing I’m going to fight him again…I can’t believe it. Von nodded to himself. Just this once…I’m going to allow myself to be a little indulgent. He had resigned himself to his responsibilities, as both the second-in-line to inherit Stormkeep and as the one who could help the elves. It wasn’t as though he was the only person who could do that—but taking that responsibility felt right. Today wasn’t about his duty, however. It was about entertaining a flight of fancy from his time spent lazing around.
Today, he got to fence against the man he respected so much.
“Don’t let respect become a chain,” Master Cycle told him as he warmed up. “His past is as irrelevant as yours is. When he’s your opponent, he’s not the past champion of whatever—he’s just the guy across from you in the piste.” What the hell is a piste? “Take it easy. Remember your gameplan and stick to it. He’s human too.” His master paused. “Okay, well, so he isn’t human. Who cares. He’s beatable. Remember this: it doesn’t matter if that was Past Von or whatever. You have beaten him before. Fight him with all you got and don’t be intimidated.”
Von nodded and walked forward to meet his opponent. He still could not believe that Lobo of the Noble Companions was standing across from him. Just a short while ago, I was an incompetent lord who refused to leave his room. This feels so surreal. He looked at his clenched fist that shook with excitement. I’m sorry, Von of the Past. The only reason I can even compete like this is because of this body you built up…and I let it go to waste until Talla came here. I’m doing my best to catch up. To be honest, I still don’t think I deserve to be here. I don’t know if I can really stand up with the best. But I have been getting stronger, and it feels really fun to improve myself like this. So until I realize how foolish I am…I will make use of this body you built for me, Von of the Past.
“Thank you for traveling so far, Prince Lobo.” Von bowed his head, showing a thin glimpse of his white teeth through his grin. “I pray your roads were safe and your fires kept you warm.”
It was his first time seeing a Wolf in person.
Lobo almost looked like a human.
The Prince of the Waterfalls stood with the authority of a champion. His broad shoulders appeared weighed down by all the concerns of his realm and more. Yet—! Yet they did not slump! A rough, rustic looking man whose ruffled hair of brown and faint scar above his stubble of beard did not betray carelessness of appearance, but rather a sense of a man who did not fear long nights. Taller than Von by nearly a head, his raised chin and stern eyes made him feel even taller.
And his eyes were pure yellow, like a wolf’s. He looks human…but those eyes…it’s like they can stare straight into my soul.
Von knew all the stories. Names, titles, and duels were poetry to him. Lora of the Silver Blade. Sebo of the Abyss. Luna the Moonknight. The Steel Fang Brothers, Lor and Bor, who felled Ellara the Giant’s ancestors. There were as many myths and stories about Wolves as there were about dragons—an honorable, mighty people that outlived humans by over fifty years and could defeat them in a single strike.
There was no way to know what was factual and what were stories bards told to impressionable young patrons, of course—until now. Von’s hand fell on his sword. My blade will slice apart truth from fiction.
“Prince Lobo?” his opponent replied with wry amusement. “If you call me that, then it must really be…no matter. I seek audience for I seek an answer: it is here that I will find it, Von of Redgrave.”
“What is that question? Please, if there is anything I can help with—
Lobo lifted his blade off his shoulder, slowly, and Von could see the light from the Fairstones on the wall bounce off the green sheen of the blade. “Let us not waste time. I traveled far, Lord Von, to exchange blows not words.”
The Prince of one of the Six Princedoms…the mighty Lobo… he’s going to fight me! “It will be my honor.” Von drew out his own blade. “My prince.”
Lobo frowned suspiciously. “That blade…is that really your weapon?”
“Of course.” Von heard suspiciousness in the question and wanted to erase it quickly. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
The Prince of the Waterfalls turned away from him and nodded at Master Cycle. “Why is he armed with this? That is a mighty long rapier for him.”
“I thought you came here to fight, not to talk.” Master Cycle made his deflection sound like a response. “You already have a guess, don’t you?”
What is that about? Von wondered. Did Von of the Past not use a rapier?
Lobo shook his head. “No matter. Begin.”
He did not wait for long. There was no calm, hesitant scouting of each other’s condition. Lobo rushed forward with both hands holding his longsword forward in one go.
This was Von’s first time fighting against a longsword at all. Larger and heavier than his own sword, it benefited from having much more destructive cutting attacks—slashing motions were simply more destructive with the heavier weight and design of the blade. Slower, but mightier. He had known his opponent would use a longsword, but his preparations amounted to nothing in a short second.
Lobo rushed forward with a thrust over a cut. Von tried to step back, but here Lobo simply crossed over with another step to get more range out of his move. A parry, then—!
When their blades met there was no sound of mighty steel clashing, only a high, thin sound like the cry of an anguished pup. Lobo’s thrust, heavier and with sounder technique, pushed through the parry. Von attempted to bring his sword sideways to push Lobo’s blade away from him, but he made contact with the weak part of his blade rather than the strong and did not have enough leverage to overpower his opponent.
Von fell back, a light wound on his shoulder.
“Stand up,” Lobo demanded. “Again.”
Here Von purposefully took his time getting to his feet. Advice from Master Cycle rang in his head. If you feel like you just got hit out of nowhere, take your time getting back to the next point. Don’t let them suck you into their pace. It was necessary to center himself. I…I allowed him to get through my defense too easily. I didn’t have my stop-hit ready in time, so I resorted to a parry…focus on my legs. Don’t try to beat a Wolf in power.
Lobo exploded forward again with the same move, and this time Von retreated faster. He extended his blade and angled his arm outside to threaten his opponent. If he continues his attack like that, he’s going to stab himself. This should buy me time—!
The attack started the same but it morphed into something else. After stepping forward with his left foot, Lobo’s thrusting attack stopped, and without letting go of the sword, he brought his left elbow high up in the air, nearly up to his head. This had the effect of shifting the point of his blade sideways, directing it towards what seemed like empty air—and positioning it right beneath Von’s angled stop-hit. Here, he stepped forward with his right foot and raised both hands above his head, guiding the rapier’s thinner blade until it was stopped by the hilt of his own blade. They now stood at nearly even distances from each other.
From here, he can’t stab me, Von thought. But I can’t stab him either. What can I—
Lobo’s fist connected with his stomach and drove the Lord of Redgrave to the ground. “Again,” he said. “Stand up.”
He—pulled the blade away? How did that happen?
Von did not yet understand. Stop-hits were amazing tools, but to use them you had to extend your arm and blade—which made it very vulnerable to being pushed around. One can easily understand this with a simple exercise: by grabbing two quills or similarly small objects with both hands and trying to overpower each other, with one arm fully extended and the other bent. The bent arm is simply much harder to push away.
Extending your arm allows for a stop-hit.
At the same time, extending your arm makes you weaker and more vulnerable to having your blade pushed around.
“You are quite good, Prince Lobo.” Von stood up with a faint smile across his face, faded by some heavy sweat. “The stories do not do you justice.”
“Do you take me for a fool? I faced those strategies of yours countless times over the last five years. And not this farce of a strategy you direct against me—I clashed against the refined steel of a man who toiled at his art for many moons. Do you think I do not know it?” Lobo stepped forward. “How to best a man who wants to drain my soul out of my body? I will not allow you to activate your Heartbeat. A long approach like yours will not work against me. I will not give you time to engage in your style anymore, Von of Redgrave.”
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“Ah. That makes sense.”
Realization dawned on Von suddenly and brought him back to reality. After his duel against Ardente, the flimsiest of prides had started to form within his heart. His strategy seemed difficult, but quite unbeatable at its core—even if he was weaker, slower, less skilled than his opponents…surely wearing them down slowly like the blizzards of his childhood would defeat anyone. But that strategy had a weak spot.
If my defense isn’t perfect, I can’t keep him away. It was like being thrown into a cold river and immediately forgetting about your drunken dreams. Every hope he had of being the strongest appeared to disappear at that moment. And my defense isn’t strong enough. Oddly, more than any disappointment he felt, there was an odd satisfaction dwelling up within now. A satisfaction akin to what one feels when solving a puzzle. So that is why this style isn’t widely used by everyone and why so many people use sure-kill Heartbeats instead of the slow game. That makes sense.
“One more time!” Lobo roared.
Von attempted at stepping back and angling his blade in a defensive stop-hit once more. When the longsword came from the rapier, he attempted to move it out of the way. This movement, shifting the tip of his blade away from Lobo’s arm and to the side, allowed him to dodge the longsword beating at his blade—but it gave the Prince of Waterfalls the opening he needed to strike directly at him. Of course—if I’m not threatening him with the stop-hit, there is nothing stopping him from attacking me straight on!
Ah…
How difficult.
“Is this really what you have been reduced to?” Lobo’s cried out through grit teeth. “Is this really all that Von of Redgrave has to offer me right now? Even without your memories, is this really—VON!” Suddenly his rough, cold voice turned passionate and his yellow eyes appeared to pierce him. “Tell me you have something more! A trick, a strategy—anything!”
Ah…that’s what I was most afraid of. Being looked at like that.
Lobo of the Noble Companions was looking at him with eyes of disappointment. His rough features contorted in something between despair and fury. They were not eyes of mockery, but of fury. A man truly saddened by the pathetic display before him, who desperately wished his eyes witnessed a different scene. He knew about my condition…but he was desperately hoping against hope that I had recovered. That I was the man he knew once. I’m sorry. It feels bad…to disappoint the legend I heard about as a kid so much. Lobo’s eyes were not mocking him—they were begging Von to stop being the weak swordsman before him. To stop being himself.
But that’s unfortunately not possible.
“Answer me!” Lobo cried out again, readying his longsword for another strike. “Is that it? Have you really been reduced to this? Are you going to defeat me and then disappear? Show up again! Von! You owe me a rematch!” His eyes were full of that anguished anger mixed with disappointment and stabbed at Von more than his blade did.
Ever since I found out about having been a great swordsman in the past…I have always been afraid of getting that look, Von thought, forcing himself to steady his legs and draw his blade. Afraid that when I saw someone look at me with those eyes that everything inside of me would crumble. That my will to live, let alone to go on as I always have, would be crushed to dust. Maybe it would be. Maybe if it happened anywhere else I would want to bury my heads in my hands and despair.
He fell into the fencing stance, the en garde stance with his feet spread apart in an L-shape and grit his teeth.
But right now…right here…with this sword in my hand and this blood of mine pumping through my veins…with my heartbeat pounding against my chest, with sweat dripping from my face, with these hands of mine that tremble with excitement…what comes to mind is something else.
I don’t want to hide away in shame.
I don’t want to go back in time and regret accepting this duel.
Right now, what I want is—
Von exploded forward.
I WANT TO WIN!
His lunge caught the emotional Lobo unprepared and nearly drew blood from him. The Prince of Waterfalls stepped backward, barely dodging the attack in time. NOT YET! Von recovered forward. This was an aggressive, unusual move for the average swordsman, let alone him and his defensive style.
A lunge is a move where you lift your front foot off the ground, then straighten your back leg to push yourself forward, landing on your front foot, and then traditionally pulling that front foot backward to return to your starting position, whereupon you bend your knees once again. What Von had done was the aggressive version of this move: his back leg pushed him forward, his front foot landed, then he brought his back leg forward. This was both hard to accomplish, as shifting your balance that way is quite difficult, and also tactically risky—you will be getting closer to your opponent instead of attempting to dodge a possible counterattack. If I don’t take any risks, I’m going to walk out of this without getting a single hit in!
From that close distance, he dashed forward again. My rapier is longer than his longsword. I am at a disadvantage in a close-range fight, but still—! By pulling his arm back just slightly, bending his elbow just a smidge, he got the proper angle. It was nearly a perfect hit. Lobo raised his sword upward, but missed it, then brought it downward in a mighty motion, knocking the blade aside. Here Lobo had the opening to attack Von, but he didn’t take it—instead, he retreated.
“Oh?” Lobo said slowly.
Sword fights are truly too fast for most to react on instinct alone. While reactions do in fact happen and frequently change the outcome in fights, most hits are determined by planning. It is not as though one can account for every move their opponent will make, but most swordsmen have a general plan in mind when fighting. They think of possibilities, and prepare their bodies to move a certain way before an exchange. Completely unexpected movements may cause them to miss chances like the one Lobo just had, even if they hone their reflexes with daily training.
Yet this didn’t appear to bother him at all.
“I am truly sorry, my prince.” Von was breathing heavily now. I didn’t know…I didn’t know it could feel like this. Like the air in my lungs is burning my throat. Like my legs would rather shatter than keep standing for just a second longer. “You traveled far to meet the Von of the Past. And it saddens me to say that the man you seek is dead. However—!” He struck his own legs with the blunt side of his blade. The pain is keeping them steady…good. “It would be remiss of me to insult the Prince of Waterfalls by allowing him to leave Stormkeep unsatisfied. Regardless of what the Von of the Past would have done”—he clutched the fist in his non-sword hand and held it forward—“Von of Redgrave, the man who stands before you now, will not roll over and accept defeat.”
There was much in his mind, of course. Sadness. Disappointment. Concern. But nothing that seemed to matter right then, not enough to displace his grin of satisfaction as he crossed blades with the man he idolized so much. The Healing Touch of Adrenaline, Master Cycle had called.
“When you feel your blood pumping in your veins…when your heart beats so fast you feel like you need to run to match its pace…it’s hard to concern yourself with much, kid. Your worries fade into the wind, your self-doubt disappears, and your heart feels as light as a feather. When you don’t have the luxury of thinking about anything but the fight before you, the world makes sense. It’s just for a single moment. Not long at all. But when you get to experience that moment…you won’t be able to go back.”
Lobo drew a deep breath and looked down at the ground. “Is that so?” He looked up at him again, and Von was surprised to find a hint of a smile there. “That is fine. As long as you mean those words…it’s going to be fine.”
The first sparks of a plan started to form in his mind. Lobo’s exact words earlier in the match had been concerning him for a while. ‘I will not allow you to activate your Heartbeat. A long approach like yours will not work against me. I will not give you time to engage in your style anymore, Von of Redgrave.’ Curious choice of words…
Working backward from that…’anymore’ implies that this style worked once upon a time against him. Von tried to imagine it. How could this style have worked in the past against him when he’s so fast? Was Von’s defense that good? No. He implied something else…he implied that just defense isn’t enough against this style. It means at some point, his style was different. Lobo used to be slower, more careful. That’s probably how Von of the Past defeated him. But the current Lobo adapted to that style. He paused to consider this. Well, that doesn’t help much, does it?
Suddenly an idea came over him.
No…it does. It means that at his core, Lobo is more comfortable with a defensive approach himself. Maybe not as much as me, but he probably likes to fence from a distance then close in with a sure-hit attack. Maybe his Heartbeat works like that. He is not a close-range swordsman at his core. This is a strategy that he adopted to beat me. That means…even though he is thousands of times more skilled than me, his skill should be at its most lacking there—in close range!
Von dashed forward again, but this time Lobo did the same. My defense is too weak to block his attacks, and even when I manage to avoid an attack it is not as though I can land an attack on him. But if I am being aggressive and Lobo makes a mistake, I can force a strike to land! This exchange was quick and furious. Von’s lunge had nearly passed Lobo’s hilt when the Prince of Waterfalls turned his hips and brought his sword sideways, inviting Von closer and knocking him down with an elbow.
Lobo watched the fallen swordsman carefully. “One more—“
Von had already stood up. “You don’t even have to say it.”
“Good answer.”
More exchanges happened and more often Von found himself in the losing end of them. His burst of energy wasn’t long for this world, and it started to fade, so did his technique. Thus, after being struck four more times, he found himself taking a step back for the first time.
It was just one step.
It was just an insignificant, small step backward.
It should have meant nothing.
It changed Von’s life forever.
Lobo did not give chase as he had before and the meaning behind his action immediately became clear.
Ah. Defense…isn’t just about blocking hits. He’s scared that I might rush forward so he slowed down his own advances to avoid making a mistake. Even though I was losing all those exchanges, it made him more conscious of how he moved. My attacks are making my defense more powerful.
That same satisfaction came over once again. Another piece of the puzzle started to come together, and he had a flash of a version of himself that was a better swordsman. Not of the Von of the Past, but of the Von of the Future.
If someone is aggressive, punish their aggressiveness. More than Stop-Hits, I need to have other weapons to make them respect my blade. Fear it. Give them a reason to fence slowly. Then, once I can drag them into my pace, I can slowly take away their energy. Ah…this is how it works. His faith in his strategy started to rebuild. “Thank you,” he muttered, “Lobo of the Noble Companions. You really are…everything I expected and more.”
It wouldn’t be now. It wouldn’t be tomorrow. He couldn’t learn all the necessary moves to make his strategy work, let alone be proficient at them in such a short amount of time. But even incomplete, he could see the effects of this strategy taking place already, and they gave him hope. I really want to see…what my swordsmanship will look like when I learn more. I want to see how far my blade can go.
At that moment, Von knew that no matter how desperate his attacks were, Lobo was standing far beyond him, almost at the horizon. But Von had now stepped onto the same road as him and he would not lose sight of his back.
They fenced for fifteen more minutes and twenty-three more strikes. At the end, Von had collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily and arms spread apart, desperate for water but too exhausted to even ask for it. His throat burned, mere air appeared poisonous to him, though his lungs craved it more than anything. His muscles spasmed and shook, hurting more than any of the light cuts or wounds the Prince of Waterfalls had delivered upon him.
And he was smiling.
“Have you found the answer you came here for?” Von managed to ask. It was a struggle to sit up, but he needed to do so. It was his duty. “My lord?”
“Perhaps.” Lobo of the Noble Companions turned around to leave, but before taking so much as a step away from the training grounds he looked over his shoulder to meet Von’s eyes. “Von of Redgrave, you will be taking part in the Tournament of the Dragon Tower, I take it?”
“Yes, my prince.”
Lobo nodded. “I see. In that case, Von of Redgrave…” He turned around and started to walk away. “I will see you in the finals.”
End of Chapter 7,
"I want to win"