12 years later...

Saga faced her opponent, saber clenched in hand and a grin on her face.

“Apprentice Saga, are you ready?” A voice came from the side. She nodded once, shifting into her ready posture: Right foot forward, left arm reaching towards her opponent with palm out, and right arm across her body with her saber pointed behind her. Most swordsmen would be mocked for assuming this stance as it left the user wide open.

“Defender Jonas, are you ready?” The voice spoke again, this time addressing her opponent. Jonas was a stocky young man around Saga’s age, almost as tall as her but more heavily muscled. He nodded his response, and assumed his more traditional stance, both hands on his wooden sword. He left his shield on his back, for some reason. She supposed it was so he could put more force into his swings, but why keep the shield on at all?

“Remember, only Shield spells are allowed. No Haste or offensive spells. The duel begins when I say. Three…”

Saga winked at her opponent, her grin widening.

“Two…”

He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at her, then smiled back.

“One…”

The two shared a nod.

“Begin!”

Saga sprang into motion, slipping to the side of Jonas’ opening chop. Even without Haste, she was fast on her feet. A Dancer had to be. She spun as she circled him, her sword flashing out at him in rapid strikes, difficult to predict if you weren’t used to them.

Unfortunately for her, Jonas was used to her fighting style, and he managed to spin with her while using his sword to defend against her flanking strikes. As her initial series of attacks ended, he lashed out with his sword once again, aiming for her sword arm.

She was prepared, of course. Her empty left hand came up and, protected by a timely Shield, pushed the sword off course. As he was sent off balance—why did he always fall for that?—she gripped her saber and went for the quick victory, a slash directed at his back.

Oh, that’s why.

Her sword bounced off of his shield with a loud clang, sending a sharp jolt up her arm. She hissed, hopping back to avoid the counterattack she knew was coming. His sword narrowly missed her face, and she had to fight the reflex to cast Haste. Instead, she forced herself to smile, lowering her sword and raising an eyebrow at him. “Really? Are you trying to scar the other eye?”

He shrugged and smiled, his confidence bolstered by his nearly successful trick. “I thought you’d like a matching set.”

She scoffed, but before she could retort he’d flung himself at her once more. She dodged again, dancing around his attack and performing several spinning slashes at him. It hit home this time, smacking his sword arm in two places.

“Touch,” Jonas growled in frustration, swapping hands and allowing the one she’d hit to go limp.

“Do you want to stop?” Saga said, her tone teasing. “That bruise will be nasty if you don’t get it healed.”

He lunged at her again in response, extending his arm and sword straight out in an effort to strike her chest, an immediately victory, but once again she deflected it with her open hand. By the Academy’s dueling rules, duelists could touch the enemy weapons with their hands without it counting as a touch, which would otherwise leave that arm “disabled”, but it wasn’t recommended to try unless the fighter could use a Shield spell. Otherwise, it was better to save your hand the bruises and just use a shield.

She didn’t tug on his sword this time; she’d made that mistake once and had been forced to let the resulting bruise heal naturally to teach her the lesson. Instead, she batted it towards his center of mass, throwing him slightly off balance, then spun to his sword, blade flashing out.

Blade dancing was an art that was equal parts performative and effective. The idea was to keep the opponent guessing with flourishes, spins, and sweeping gestures, presenting false openings to lure them into fatal mistakes.

Jonas was used to her style, though, and he wouldn’t be goaded so easily by something as obvious as a turned back. Instead, he recovered control of his blade just in time to be ready to block the expected strike…only to be struck across his opposite side and remaining arm in rapid succession.

Saga grinned and stepped away, holding her training saber vertically before her in salute. Her ploy had worked, though she knew it was a one-time trick, and wouldn’t work against an opponent who didn’t know her well.

Jonas glared at her, but his eyes held no heat, and he smiled when he returned her salute. “I should have seen that coming. Well played.”

She lowered her sword. “Thanks, you really made me work for it. The shield on your back was a neat trick! If I used a shield I’d consider it.”

“I got tired of having my back bruised,” he shrugged, then chuckled. “Got time for one more?”

“Apprentice Saga,” another voice called, their tone neutral.

It wasn’t their duel’s marshal, like before. Saga groaned, recognizing the voice immediately. “Yes, Master Dorrin?”

Master Dorrin was an grey-haired man with a slight build, though, like Grandpapa, she knew it was all the lean muscle of an athlete, and he was more spry than he looked. As always, he wore practical, comfortable traveling clothes, with his favorite green scarf providing a splash of color against the neutral tones he otherwise preferred. He wasn’t exactly short, but given she was taller than most people, he had to look up at her when he finally stood before her. As usual, he wasted no time on ceremony, preferring to get straight to the point.

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“You were supposed to wait at my office.” His voice wasn’t exactly raspy, but it wasn’t her grandfather’s rich baritone or the practiced smoothness of a singer, either. It was more gravely, like someone who spent their youth in taverns drinking and smoking. It occurred to her that, for all the little he spoke of himself, perhaps he had.

“I’m sorry, Master.” She bowed her head. She had a good reason, but he wouldn’t want to hear it. Today was an important day, and she couldn’t just sit in an empty office waiting for hours! She had to burn off some of the nervous energy, and Jonas had come to the rescue with an offer to train. She’d obliged without hesitation. After all, who was she to turn down helping a friend?

Master Dorrin frowned, then looked at Jonas. “Guard Jonas, may I borrow your practice sword?”

Master Dorrin was Saga’s primary instructor, her assigned mentor, and was in charge of her training as a Dancer. He was an accomplished swordsman himself, widely considered to be second only to her grandfather in skill as a Dancer. Grandpapa said Master Dorrin was a close friend of his, but Saga wondered if her Master held some resentment at how people viewed them. Of course, her own reaction to being placed in his class probably hadn’t helped. She’d been disappointed to not be paired with her grandfather, even if she understood the reasons. Master Dorrin, in turn, had seemed to take that personally and made the last eight years of her life hell.

Jonas widened his eyes, but he didn’t dare refuse one of the Academy’s instructors, especially when his student was involved. He handed the man his wooden sword, then stepped away from the ring while Master Dorrin took up a position across the ring from Saga. “If you want extra training, Apprentice,” his voice was dangerously calm, “it is my duty as your mentor to provide it. Come at me.”

Saga hesitated. “Don’t you have news for me, Master?”

“Come at me, Apprentice. I won’t say it again.”

“But don’t you want—“

She’d been trying to offer him his customary second sword, but he’d meant what he said. The man practically flew across the ring at her, sword extended, and almost defeated her right then. She recovered, spinning out of the way of his thrust and dancing away. When she faced him again, though, he was much closer than she’d expected. He’s not playing around, she thought, and she only barely managed to block two more blows from his sword before hopping back to create distance between them.

“Don’t you want to set rules for the duel?” she gasped, trying to catch her breath from the sudden exertion. She hadn’t recovered from the previous fight, and it put her at a disadvantage.

He rushed her again, sidestepping to flank her at the last second and aiming a slash at her exposed ankle. “What have I taught you!?” he growled.

Saga leapt away from the attack, landing on the edge of the ring a few yards away. She knew what he was getting at. He trained her for real combat, and in a real fight there were no rules. In that split second when he turned to come at her again, she concentrated, gathering her Will and shaping it into the spell she wanted: Haste. She felt wind gather around her, felt it embrace her like an old friend. It pushed her, urged her to move, and she obliged.

She dashed sideways to avoid him, almost blur to onlookers, and began to circle her opponent. Even as fast as she’d become, she knew it was foolish to rush in without a plan. To her surprise, though, he didn’t pursue her, instead remaining perfectly still. Was he using the same strategy she’d used on Jonas, leaving his back exposed as a false opening? She wasn’t sure, but she knew she couldn’t just keep circling him. After using Shield in the previous fight, using Haste was already beginning to take its toll. The telltale throb in the back of her head promised pain later, but for now she had to hold on. Making a decision, she rushed straight at his back, watching for the counter she knew would come.

“You’ve been accepted.”

His words made her stumble to a halt, eyes wide in surprise. “Really?” she asked, hopeful.

She realized her mistake all too late. He turned suddenly, eyes glinting as he dashed forward and thrust his wooden sword directly at her stomach. She attempted to twist out of the way, but Haste only enhanced her speed, not her reflexes. Her reaction was too slow, and the glancing blow sent her spinning to the ground.

“Dirty trick,” she grumbled, but she knew it was her own fault for falling for it.

Master Dorrin grunted, then handed Jonas back his training sword before walking away. “Meet me in my office once you’ve recovered, Apprentice. We’ll discuss your trial there.”

She watched him go, mind racing with conflicting emotions, and held a hand to her side where he’d struck her. She hadn’t been using Shield, and even with training swords that thrust had hurt. Still, though, she’d been accepted!

“You alright, Saga?”

“Never better!” She accepted the hand, and he hauled her up. Her Haste had ended the moment she’d hit the ground, and she could already feel the headache forming from overusing her magic. She considered using Heal to get rid of the pain in her side, but she decided she’d rather live with it for a while rather than make the headache worse. “Thanks for training with me, I needed that.”

He nodded slowly, eyebrow raised. “I can’t believe you put up with him doing that all the time. I know he needs to prepare you for the real world, for when you travel, but it has to be humiliating to go through that in front of all of us.

She shrugged, and turned to walk with him to the weapons rack. “He’s always been a hard teacher, and I’m not graduated yet.” She pondered how the two fights had gone. He didn’t always explain his lessons to her, as he’d taught her to examine her losses and determine for herself where she’d gone wrong. In this instance, the cause was obvious. “It was my own fault, I shouldn’t have let my guard down in the middle of a fight.”

“There’s no honor in using that kind of trickery,” Jonas said, frowning while he exchanged the wooden sword for his real one.

“You say that even after how I beat you?”

“I mean, that’s just swordplay.”

Saga grinned, grabbing her real dancing saber and sheathing it at her hip. “He believes there’s no such thing as rules in a fight, as long as you survive.”

“If you say so,” Jonas said, shrugging, then placed a hand on her shoulder. “He’s been doing this long enough that I trust his judgement. Just wish he wasn’t such an AHH!”

He jerked his hand away, and a moment later she felt another familiar weight on the same shoulder.

“There you are, little jerk,” Saga said with a giggle, stroking the back of the beatweaver who now rested in the crook of her neck. “Are you okay, Jonas? Did Dapper hurt you?” Dapper had vanished while she’d been preparing for the duel with Jonas, and as usual he returned as soon as the fight was over.

“No, just startled me,” the man said, grumbling. The poor man was afraid of spiders, Saga knew, but he always tried to be polite to Dapper, and she respected him for it. “Sorry, Dapper.”

“You know he’s not a real spider,” Saga teased.

“Beatweavers are monster spiders, that’s worse.”

Dapper made a chittering sound Saga recognized as a laugh, and she gave him a questioning look. He was wearing his favorite hat today, the one that matched her red duelist cap with its white feather. She’d had it commissioned for him soon after she’d received her own from her grandfather. “What’s so funny?”

He tapped out a few words to her. Over the years, she’d learned to understand the language tapping language he used with other beatweavers. “He says he’s trying to beat his record of how high he can make you jump.”

Jonas glared at Dapper. “I only jumped the one time!”

Dapper chittered again, and Saga decided not to translate what he tapped out this time. Instead, she turned to leave. “Thanks again. I hope you have a peaceful shift.”

Jonas was a Defender, a guard who specialized in protecting the city from criminals and rogue monsters. He didn’t investigate crimes, that was an Investigator’s work, a Defender just protected the people and stopped crimes in process, in that order. He nodded his thanks to her. “Walk you back to the Academy? I’m meeting my patrol at the gate.”

She nodded, and they turned to walk. As they went, Dapper tapped again, and she glared sharply at him. “He did not!”

Jonas raised an eyebrow. “What did he say now?”

“He says Master Dorrin beat me faster than I beat you, the little jerk.”