The following day, after their morning run, Alaric kept his promise. The air was cool, and the forest buzzed faintly with life as Alaric entered the hut and returned carrying two gleaming swords.
He approached the pair with care, his hands steady as he removed the blades from the wall. Turning to Eldric first, he offered one of the weapons.
Eldric took it, his hands gripping the leather-wrapped handle with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The sword was heavier than he had anticipated—nearly ten pounds, with most of the weight concentrated in the hilt. The leather grip felt firm in his hand, and the blade itself was nearly four feet long, one edge dull while the other gleamed dangerously sharp.
Fiora stepped forward, accepting her sword from Alaric. The moment it settled into her grasp, she smiled. The blade felt remarkably light to her and well-balanced, feeling almost like an extension of her arm. She tested her grip, her fingers curling securely around the handle.
“Try giving it a couple of practice swings,” Alaric said, demonstrating a swift, controlled sideways motion with his own blade. “Get a feel for how the weight shifts as you move.”
Eldric nodded, lifting his sword with both hands. His first swing was awkward and unsteady, nearly sending him toppling to the ground.
Fiora, on the other hand, handled her weapon with surprising ease. She swung smoothly, her movements fluid and controlled, as if she had been doing it for years.
Alaric observed them intently, offering pointers as they practiced. “Eldric, keep your back straight—your stance is too loose!” he called out.
“Fiora, move your grip higher up on the handle for better control,” he instructed, watching her adjust accordingly.
For fifteen minutes, the pair practiced, the sound of steel slicing through the air filling the clearing. Eldric’s swings became steadier, his movements less forced, while Fiora’s precision continued to impress.
Finally, Alaric raised a hand to stop them. “All right, that’s enough practice,” he said, his tone taking on a sharper edge. “Let’s see how well you two can do in a fight.”
He planted his left leg slightly behind him, shifting into a balanced stance. His hands brought the sword to waist height, the blade angled forward in a ready position. “Come at me,” he said, his voice calm but commanding.
Eldric and Fiora exchanged a wide-eyed look, their expressions a mix of confusion and disbelief.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Alaric barked, his voice cutting through their hesitation. “Let’s go!”
Eldric was the first to move. He mirrored his father’s stance, holding the sword steady before rushing forward. With all his might, he swung his blade in a wide, sideways arc.
Alaric didn’t flinch. With a simple flick of his wrist, he deflected the blow with ease, sending Eldric stumbling backward. Before Eldric could recover, Alaric pushed him lightly but firmly to the ground.
Fiora seized the opening. With a determined cry, she raised her blade high above her head like a sledgehammer, aiming directly for Alaric’s skull. Her strike was fast, but Alaric was faster.
He sidestepped gracefully, allowing her blade to slam into the floor with a loud clang.
“Well, this is about what I expected,” Alaric said, shaking his head as he watched Eldric and Fiora struggle to recover. “Get up and try it again. For every time you miss me, you’ll do fifty practice swings. Let’s go!”
Eldric groaned but pulled himself off the ground, his legs trembling beneath him. Fiora followed suit, her hands weak from the endless drills, but her determined expression didn’t waver.
The training seemed endless. Swing after swing, parry after parry, their movements slowed as their arms grew heavier, their muscles protesting every effort. The once-crisp sound of swords meeting dulled with their fading energy.
Eventually, Eldric leaned on his sword, panting heavily. “It’s dark out,” he said, glancing toward the horizon, where the last light of the day had disappeared. “Isn’t it quitting time? I can barely stand.”
“Almost,” Alaric replied, his tone as calm as ever. “But first, I want you to spar with each other.”
Fiora looked at Eldric, her face pale and her stance shaky. Still, she smiled faintly, her spirit undeterred. “Sure,” she said, her voice soft but resolute.
Eldric sighed, lifting his sword with effort. “Let’s do this,” he muttered, stepping into position.
With a determined cry, he charged at Fiora. She swung at his side, her movements sluggish but precise. Eldric reacted instinctively, casually deflecting her blade with his own. Pivoting on his heel, he spun around and brought his sword to rest just shy of her neck.
Fiora froze, her eyes wide with shock. “Let’s try that again,” she said, her voice laced with determination.
“Fine,” Eldric grumbled, resetting his stance.
They clashed again, Fiora trying with all her might to land a blow. Each time, Eldric countered her effortlessly. By the fourth attempt, her legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees, gasping for air.
Alaric watched the exchange intently, his arms crossed. Finally, he nodded to himself. Looks like Eldric has the edge in swordsmanship.
“All right, that’s enough for today,” he said, stepping forward. “Both of you, gather around.”
Eldric and Fiora hobbled over, their exhaustion evident in every step. “What is it now?” Eldric asked, his voice heavy with fatigue.
“Tomorrow,” Alaric began, his voice taking on a more serious tone, “I’m going to start teaching you the basics of Aetherguard.”
Fiora tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her tired eyes.
“It’s a style of swordsmanship that’s been taught to elite soldiers for generations,” Alaric explained. “In its basic form, which you’ll start learning this week, it’s a series of moves designed to help you fight more effectively. Next week, we’ll delve into its advanced techniques—some of which you might even call magical.”
Fiora’s eyes widened, and Eldric straightened slightly despite his weariness.
“But let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Alaric added, taking a deep breath. “For now, go find some dinner and then get some rest. You’ll need it.”
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Eldric nodded and made his way to the door, resting his sword carefully against the wall before stepping outside. The cold night air hit him like a wall of ice, sharp and invigorating. He breathed deeply, his breath visible in the frigid air.
“Oh, man,” he said, shivering slightly. “It’s so much nicer out here than it is in there.”
“No kidding,” Fiora agreed as she stepped out behind him. Without hesitation, she darted toward the forest. “Well, let’s find something to eat!”
Alaric stood outside the hut, his arms crossed as he gazed into the forest. The cold morning air was crisp and sharp, turning his steady breaths into wisps of smoke that curled upward and dissipated. The faint chirping of birds surrounded him, but the sound faded as he caught the rhythmic pounding of footsteps in the distance.
Moments later, Eldric and Fiora emerged from the woods, rounding the final corner. They stopped in front of the hut, their chests heaving as they fought to catch their breath.
“Hope you’re not too tired,” Alaric said, his tone neutral, though the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “Today is when the hard part starts.”
Eldric and Fiora exchanged a quick glance before nodding in unison. “We’re ready,” Eldric declared, his voice steady despite his exhaustion.
Alaric turned, gesturing for them to follow him inside. He crossed the room to the wall where the swords hung, their polished surfaces glinting faintly in the dim light. Pulling down two blades, he handed them to Eldric and Fiora before retrieving his own.
“Today, we begin learning Aetherguard,” Alaric announced, his voice carrying a weight of importance. He paused for a moment, letting the name sink in. “This is a style of swordsmanship known for its precision and complexity. As it advances, it’s typically performed with two swords—one for attack, the other for defense.”
He stepped back, raising his sword to demonstrate. “However, you’ll be learning with a single blade for now. That means you’ll need to switch between attacking and defending, but the foundation will still be the same.”
Eldric and Fiora watched closely as Alaric moved into an unfamiliar stance, his feet shifting into position while his sword angled at an odd yet purposeful angle.
“Eldric, come at me,” Alaric commanded.
Eldric hesitated for a moment, drawing a deep breath before charging forward. He swung his sword in a wide arc, aiming directly for his father’s side.
In an instant, Alaric deflected the blow with an almost imperceptible movement, the clash of steel ringing through the hut. Before Eldric could react, Alaric’s blade was at his throat.
Fiora’s eyes widened in shock. “I didn’t even see you move!” she exclaimed.
Alaric lowered his sword and nodded. “That is one of the techniques you’ll learn. The defensive movements in this style are designed to give you an immediate advantage. When performed correctly, they make you untouchable.”
He glanced at the pair, his expression serious. “This style is rarely taught. Its speed and efficiency mean that those who fight against it rarely survive long enough to analyze its techniques. In short,” he said, pausing for emphasis, “if you aren’t taught it, you’ll never understand it.”
Alaric gestured to Eldric. “Take up a defensive stance.”
Eldric adjusted his grip on the sword and spread his feet, readying himself. He blinked, and suddenly his father was upon him, the strike coming so fast it was almost a blur. Eldric barely managed to bring his sword up, but the force of Alaric’s swing sent him staggering backward.
Before he could recover, Alaric spun, using the momentum of Eldric’s block to sweep his blade toward him again. The strike stopped just short of Eldric’s throat, leaving him frozen in place.
Fiora stood rooted to the spot, her mouth slightly agape. The sheer power and precision of Alaric’s movements left her in awe.
Alaric stepped back, lowering his sword. “Each attack in this style is part of a sequence,” he explained. “Every move has two or more follow-ups, meaning that even if the first strike is blocked, the next ones are already in motion. This makes defending against it incredibly difficult.”
He swung his sword to his side, his expression unreadable. “Over the next several weeks, we’ll drill these techniques until they become second nature. Even with just the basics mastered, you’ll be able to hold your own against opponents much stronger than you.”
Eldric and Fiora nodded, their determination renewed despite their fatigue.
“If,” Alaric added, his voice steady, “you manage to master these basics, we’ll move on to the advanced techniques—including the slightly magical aspects of Aetherguard. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s begin!”
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The day dragged on as the pair trained relentlessly. Eldric swung his blade repeatedly, each deflected strike taking a toll on his stamina. Fiora, quicker and more precise, managed to hold her ground, but her body was pushed to its limits as well.
By the twentieth round, Eldric collapsed to his knees, his sword slipping from his hand. “I think I’m going to die from exhaustion,” he gasped, his chest heaving.
Fiora, still standing but barely, glanced down at him. She had just deflected his latest attack, her movements as precise as ever. “Get up,” she teased with a faint smile. “You’re not done yet.”
Alaric’s voice cut through the air. “That’s enough for today,” he called. “You’ve done well. On the final week of training, we’ll begin working on the magical side of this style that I’ve been teasing you with.” He chuckled, sheathing his sword as he headed outside.
Eldric slumped to the ground, letting out a sigh of relief. Fiora followed him, resting her sword against the wall as they both prepared for a much-needed break.
Fiora let out a long sigh of relief and collapsed onto the ground, the cool earth soothing her aching muscles. “Thank god,” she muttered, wiping the sweat from her brow.
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Later that evening, Eldric sank into the pond, the warm water enveloping his sore body. He closed his eyes, allowing the tension to melt away. The faint glow of the Lunaflare flowers reflected on the surface of the water, casting an ethereal light.
As he stretched his arms and relaxed, a sudden thought struck him like lightning. His eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright, water splashing around him. “Of course!” he exclaimed.
Without another moment’s hesitation, he grabbed his robe, wrapped it hastily around himself, and sprinted back to the hut. Water dripped from his hair and onto the wooden floor as he burst into Fiora’s room without knocking.
“Hey!” he said, excitement radiating from him. “Have you noticed that whenever you go to the pond with a cut or a bruise, it’s completely gone by the time you get out?”
Fiora sat up, staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. She couldn’t believe how long it had taken him to realize this. A small smile tugged at her lips. “Yes,” she said simply, her tone light. “It is amazing, isn’t it?”
Eldric beamed, spinning on his heel as he headed back toward his room. “This is so cool!” he said, his voice echoing down the hallway.
Fiora shook her head, lying back down with a satisfied smile. The past three weeks of grueling training had tested her limits, but she felt stronger, sharper, and more capable than ever. One more week, she thought, staring up at the ceiling. Then I can go home and show Mom and Dad how much I’ve grown. Show everyone that I can fend for myself.
She rolled onto her side, her stomach grumbling faintly. And I’ll finally get to eat some real food, she mused with a grin. Closing her eyes, she let sleep take her.
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Fiora awoke to a panicked voice cutting through the silence of the night.
“Fiora! Eldric! Get up now! Come on, let’s go!” Alaric’s voice was sharp and urgent, echoing through the hut.
Groggy and disoriented, Fiora rubbed her eyes and dragged herself out of bed. She quickly got dressed and made her way to the main room.
When she entered, she found Alaric moving with purpose, pulling swords from the wall and fitting them into their sheaths. His movements were fast and deliberate, the air around him tense.
Eldric stumbled into the room moments later, his hair disheveled and his eyes half-closed. Alaric tossed him a sword, the weight of it nearly making him drop it. He then turned to Fiora and handed her another.
“Strap these onto your backs, and let’s go!” Alaric demanded, his voice leaving no room for questions.
Fiora inspected the sheath in her hands. It was fitted with a strap that crossed diagonally from her right shoulder to her left hip, designed to let the weight of the sword rest comfortably on her shoulder. She slipped it on and adjusted it until it felt secure.
“Where are we going?” Eldric asked, his voice tinged with both excitement and confusion.
“We’re going back to Valifield,” Alaric barked as he stormed toward the door. “We have to leave now!”
The urgency in his tone sent a shiver down Fiora’s spine. She exchanged a worried glance with Eldric, her earlier exhaustion replaced with a growing sense of fear. Without hesitation, they hurried after Alaric, their footsteps echoing in the quiet night.
The cold night air hit Fiora’s face as they stepped outside, the forest bathed in moonlight. The faint chirping of crickets and rustling leaves felt almost out of place amidst the tension.
“What’s happening?” Fiora whispered to herself, gripping the hilt of her sword tightly as she followed Alaric into the darkness.