Franco circled the knight commander carefully, searching for an opening of any kind. Franco knew the basic stances for combat, as did every boy who lived on the frontier, but to best a trained knight at such a young age was a herculean task. Only the most talented prodigies stood a chance, and Franco, while talented, was no prodigy.

Adopting the standard one-handed attacking stance, legs apart and sword held to the side, Franco advanced. The trial was conducted with bastard swords, which were commonly regarded as the most basic weapon, mostly reserved for the common soldier and the young, untrained knights. What set this blade apart from the heavier broadsword and the light and fast longsword was its handle. It wasn’t short enough to force a one-handed grip, nor long enough to encourage two hands, it could be used either way. The knight commander took on a strange defensive stance, holding his sword in one hand, bringing his elbow across his body, and bending his hand down so that his sword pointed at the ground. While strange, this stance did not faze Franco, for he knew that each order of knights had their unique techniques, which were learned independently from the standard Imperial swordsmanship techniques that were universally known amongst knights. The Eagle Knights emphasized swift and precise counterattacks, which, according to their doctrine, let them dive like an eagle and strike their enemy’s critical points. Knowing this, Franco advanced slowly, trying to leave as much room as he could to spring backward and away from any counterstrike.

Suddenly, the knight commander lept towards Franco, bent his knees, and twisted his hand, launching a swift slash aimed at Franco’s neck. The force for this strike came mostly from his wrist and elbow, and thus would not do much, if anything, against even a lightly armored opponent. However, Franco wore no gambison or mail, and even if he did, a strike to the throat would have surely ended the contest.

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Abandoning his attack, Franco hopped backward, tripped, and fell, eliciting laughter from the spectators. He rolled and regained his feet, just in time to see a devastating blow leveled at his head. Raising his sword, he clumsily parried the attack, stepped back to avoid a low strike that was aimed at his knee, and tried for a counter, which turned out to be a mistake. His sword came crashing down like a meteor, aiming to crack the knight commander’s head in two, but as his sword drew tantalizingly close to contact, the knight commander rushed forward and slammed the pommel of his blade into Franco’s chest, propelling his backward and expelling all the air held within his lungs. As his vision clearly and breathing steadied, Franco saw that the knight commander held his swordpoint to Franco’s throat.

“Well fought,” said the knight commander, “you did admirably for one so young. With your talent, I’m sure that there will be a place in the Duke’s Academy of War for you. I accept you on his behalf. Will you give up your life as it is now, and swear to serve his grace, and even give your life for his?”

“I do.” said Franco with a grin, “I would love to go”. He was going to be a knight, and his mother couldn’t stop him. Smiling he regained his footing and turned to see Alex taking the vow nearby. While the trials were not over, it seemed that he and his friend were set. Lost in dreams of grandeur, Franco smiled.

The clashing of swords drew Franco out of his reverie, and he turned to see Jona still engaged in her contest with Sirus, both of them panting heavily, but Jona seemed to be at a disadvantage.

“Yikes,” said Alex as he walked to stand beside Franco, “What will happen to her if she is bested?”

“I do not know,” replied Franco, “but unconditional acceptance probably isn’t on the table for the defeated.”

Worriedly, the two turned and returned their attention to the contest.