Wyn took a few deep breaths at the edge of the clearing. He hadn’t expected to feel as tired as he was, but training all morning definitely added to his fatigue. Despite their rest day Wyn was determined to keep practicing, and knowing he could take the rest of the day off made it a much easier decision. Daniel had graciously agreed to be his sparring partner for spells and provided the means to keep training with his spear, while simultaneously reminding him that he’d soon need a better weapon.
He just secured his new coat and now he was being pressured to find even more items. He figured the progression to be better never really stopped as a Climber. But such was life. There were still some items he could benefit from having, and any ability or improvement to help him survive and climb would be a welcomed one.
What he truly enjoyed so far was the feast Wendy arranged for them at breakfast, gods bless her. She even stayed a bit to watch both Wyn and Daniel, and it didn't go unnoticed how Daniel perked up and showed off when the kind waitress was watching. It was nice to see him opening up. He didn’t even smell of alcohol, which was a huge step forward.
The grounds at the edge of the city were sprawling and beautiful, and the crisply cool spring air ushered a number of people to the field. The area seemed nearly as large as Alestead itself, as the flat, luscious green grass spread out wide and far with the occasional tree providing shade. Dozens of groups of people enjoyed the space, and Wyn had to take a minute to try and find his friends.
He smiled after seeing John and Tasha standing and waving frantically beside a large tree. They weren't quite halfway into the park, but still looked small in the distance. As he walked closer, the group welcomed him to their spot consisting of several large blankets where they sat together, three baskets of food and drink, and a few training weapons leaning against the tree.
Wyn pointed to the weapons as he took off his own backpack and coat. "What are those for? I thought this was supposed to be relaxing!"
Marcy patted him on the back. "Oh, come on, Wyn. It's ingrained in us! We have to have a little fun!"
Tasha shook her head but failed to hide a smile. "I can't believe your idea of fun is sparring against each other. I'd rather lay here and enjoy the cool air before summer comes."
"It's just a bit of fun," John said, putting his arm around Tasha. "We're always so serious when we climb, so it's good to take a load off and enjoy the day… while also seeing who is the most skilled at combat."
"There it is," Cedric said, popping a grape into his mouth. "I knew there was an ulterior motive behind bringing those."
“Can we just eat?” Cal said. “I made both sandwiches AND soup!“
“I would love a sandwich, thank you,“ Cedric said. “All of this bragging about how great you are as a chef has made me curious.“
Wyn sat down and spread out on the blanket, doing his best to relax. “I’m with Tasha - I’d rather enjoy the rest of the day.”
“The rest of the day?” Marcy asked.
Wyn smiled. “I already trained this morning, and the rest of the day is open and free for me.”
John groaned. “Leave it to the soldier to be disciplined enough to train even on his off day. And early in the morning, at that!”
“Captain,” Wyn corrected. “Not just soldier. And you’re the one who wants to spar now!”
John huffed before grabbing a sandwich from the basket. His face relaxed the instant he took his first bite, closing his eyes and groaning in delight. “Seriously, Cal, how do you do it?”
“I made these with a homemade recipe for honeyed ham, which pairs nicely with a mustard spread and robust cheese. I tweaked a recipe from a traveling chef I met a few months ago for the ground mustard.”
“It really is wonderful,” Cedric said. “Even compared to the festival feasts. I’m afraid to say you missed your calling.”
Cal shrugged. “I enjoy cooking and I’m not too bad at climbing, either. Maybe I’ll retire before long and open a restaurant.”
John whistled. “Now THAT’S an idea! I’d sponsor you for that in a heartbeat. You’d sell out every night!”
“I don’t know about that,” Cal said, scratching the back of his head. “I’d just be happy to cook again.”
“Well, you have our vote,” Tasha said. “It pains me to say it, but I agree with John. I’d love to sponsor you, too.”
The group collectively ate and talked for awhile, basking in the fresh air and enjoying the company. Despite the lingering thought of climbing again in the back of each of their minds, together they were able to push their worries away and live in the moment. Times like these didn’t come often, but taking advantage of them was a part of life not often taught or learned.
After an hour, John belched from his spot on the grass, laughing to himself. He sat up and stretched his arms and legs before reaching for a sword at the base of the tree. “Alright, gang, it’s time! Is anyone going to spar with me?”
The others looked around, smiling or scoffing, but no one agreed.
John sighed. “Aww, come on!” He deflated, his shoulders sagging.
Suddenly, John shot up straight, gasping with an idea. “I’ve got it! I know how to convince the lot of you - we make it into a game!”
Marcy crossed her legs and folded her arms. “What kind of game?”
John snickered. “Ahh, your interest is piqued! How about, the winner of a duel will get to ask someone in the group whatever question they want. And they have to answer!”
Marcy laughed. “What about Tasha and Cedric? They aren’t exactly direct combatants, you know.”
“Easy,” John said. “They can nominate someone to fight for them! And the challenger gets to select the weapons used in the duel.”
Cal stood up. “I actually like that idea. John, I accept your challenge.”
The others stared at him with blank faces, John especially. Cal loomed over him like a great tree, and easily had fifty pounds on the Fighter.
Tasha laughed. “Now THIS I’d like to see!”
“Hold on,” John said, waving his free hand in front of him. “No magic, though! It has to be a fair match - combat skills only!”
Cal tilted his head side to side. “Hmm. Alright, then. I’ll still accept.”
John nearly jumped out of his skin in excitement. “Excellent! To reward you for your agreement, I’ll let you pick your weapon. I’m choosing the sword.” John swung his sword around with finesse, rotating his wrist in a practiced motion.
Cal picked up the large wooden war hammer and hefted it a few times. It wasn’t nearly the same weight or feel as his own weapon, but a blunt weapon was pretty similar no matter what.
John grimaced seeing Cal easily handle the hammer. “Alright, let’s review some ground rules. No hitting the neck or head - I don’t want to die, especially not doing this, and that hammer isn’t make me feel any better.”
“This was your idea,” Tasha muttered.
John cleared his throat. “Anyway. A clean hit counts as a point. Each point, we can ask a question.”
“What’s a clean hit?” Cal asked.
“A hit without a block or parry,” Wyn said. “A glancing blow won’t count, either.”
“I take it you’ve sparred a few times?” John asked.
Wyn smiled. “Of course. How else do soldiers at war stave off boredom?”
John’s smirk vanished. The others laughed silently, or at least attempted to, seeing John’s reaction.
“I’ll start you,” Wyn said, moving between the two warriors. “On a three count. Ready yourselves.”
Both men took fighting stances. John looked a bit more formal but confident, and Cal seemed hesitant but strong.
“Three. Two One!” Wyn brought his hand down after counting, and jumped back out of the way.
Cal immediately pushed forward, startling John. He began swinging his hammer wildly, quicker than John expected but less refined than a practiced combatant. The Fighter parried or dodged the attacks with relative ease, though the strength behind each strike was forceful. After the initial onslaught, John saw an opportunity to counter. Cal left himself open without a shield to complement his fighting style, and showed no guard whatsoever. John parried a swing then slashed across Cal’s stomach in a quick follow up.
Cal grunted in frustration, and John yelled in excitement. Cedric handed over something to Marcy with a sigh, who smirked and pocketed it.
“Ha!” John said, twirling his sword again. “Not bad, not bad. But it’s a bit obvious you haven’t had much formal training.”
Cal chirped a laugh. “I’ve had formal training in the kitchen, not the battlefield. I learned that crushing something with a hammer works just as well as fine strikes with a sword.”
John bowed. “Too true. And I won’t deny your abilities in Alistair - those Oaths of yours are downright terrifying. But a win is a win! Now, I’d like to ask you something, Cal. Where are you from?”
Marcy and Cedric groaned, while Wyn couldn’t suppress a laugh.
“What?” John asked. “It’s a legitimate question!”
“Of all the questions you could ask someone, you ask where they’re from,” Cedric said. “You’d be a terrible Inquisitor.”
Cal smiled. “It’s a fine question, John. I’m from Elafor.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Cedric coughed on his drink. “Cal! I’m Elafor, as well!”
“See?” John said. “It was a great question. Making connections already! But that’s not really surprising. Plenty of people here are from the big cities.”
Cal sat the head of his hammer on the ground and leaned on it casually. “My family has been there for several generations. No one special, though, just general merchants. They helped organize the trading square on the east side of the city.”
Cedric nodded his head. “I’m familiar with that post. My family are scribes, and we often sought the paper and ink traders on the far corner.”
“The Manzinos? They’re good people!”
“Yes, they are! They always had such quality products. We only made scrolls on their papers and with their inks. They were the only ones reliable enough.”
“Small world,” Cal said. “When I go back I’ll have to tell them I know a trusted customer.”
“I take it back,” Marcy said. “That was a good question. How about I go next, then?” She stood up, brushing off her pants. A bow wouldn’t make a good sparring weapon, of course, but she picked up two long wooden daggers and tested their weight.
“Interesting,” John said, taking his starting stance. “I have the advantage of reach.”
Marcy smiled. “It would seem.”
Wyn again started their match, though was much more curious to see the Ranger fight in direct combat. After the brief time he saw her fight when climbing with Cedric this week, he wanted to see her abilities more outside of her bow.
John struck first this time, lunging out with a stab. Marcy easily dodged, twirling with a light stance while keeping her distance. She seemed playful, not even countering John’s strike. He then attacked more aggressively, slashing and stabbing one after the other, though the Ranger nimbly stepped around each strike or parried with a dagger when needed. It looked more like a dance in comparison to John’s more formal but direct approach.
The two separated, John huffing while Marcy only smiled with an intimidating sense of calm.
She was toying with him, and Wyn knew she’d easily win. He had a hunch John knew, too, but the real question was how humiliating she was going to make it. Interestingly, though, Wyn felt like he had seen that style before. It looked similar to the flowing fighting style a woman in his company knew and shared, but he wasn’t certain.
John continued his attack, relentlessly trying to score on Marcy. Each swing seemed more reckless than the last, until his steps and moves were a hair sloppier and less snappy. They had only been sparring for a couple of minutes, but Marcy had yet to retaliate. She conserved her energy to block or dodge, while John’s frustration was growing more obvious with each passing second. His enhanced endurance was letting him keep going without fatigue, but that didn’t mean his annoyance wasn’t affected.
Finally, John grunted and yelled after another swipe only hit air. “Fight back! This is ridiculous!”
“I agree,” Cedric said. “Marcy, enough already.”
Marcy snickered before relaxing her entire body. Her face grew serious and she whirled her daggers up in a more prepared stance. When John attacked next, Marcy not only deflected it, but took immediate action. In less than a second she tripped him, flipped with him and pinned him to the ground, then struck a rib with her dagger, ending the entire maneuver on top of him.
John breathed a sigh of relief. “That was… unexpected.”
Marcy helped him to his feet. “A good fighter is one who embraces the element of surprise.“
“While also being a better fighter than your opponent,” Wyn said.
Marcy abruptly turned her head to Wyn, a confused look on her face. “How did you know the rest of that line?”
“There was a soldier I knew who fought like that and would say that all the time. I knew I recognized it! That’s the defensive art called Hata, right?”
Marcy sat down gently beside Cedric close to the tree, not taking her eyes off Wyn. “It is. I’m surprised someone else brought it here to Jahnin.”
“That’s from out of the country?” John asked. “No wonder it’s odd. I’ve never heard of anyone fighting like that!”
“It’s favored by skilled warriors who prefer combat direct and fast,” Wyn said. “The woman who showed me some basic Hata was our most respected and feared warrior. When she let loose, she tore through enemies. It was brutal.”
Marcy shifted on the ground, holding one knee up. “I’d like to hear about her sometime.”
Wyn blinked. “Of course.”
“Is that your question?” John asked. “You beat me. You can ask anyone anything”
Marcy looked at John before softly shaking her head and laughing. “No. I’m sorry, that just caught me off guard. I actually have a question for Tasha!”
Tasha perked up, stopping mid bite while eating a sandwich. “Oh? What is it?”
“What made you want to learn tower magic? You said your father was a wizard and you come from a noble house. Why bother?”
Tasha sighed. “We aren’t one of the major noble houses and aren’t considered to be true nobles. Despite my father’s status of wizard. Each of my siblings and cousins have looked to find something meaningful to do with our life, and we were encouraged to do so. I’ve always seen magic as wondrous and fascinating! But I also wanted to prove myself by becoming a Climber. It’s the harder road, but the road I wanted to take.“
Marcy smiled. “I respect that. You’ll do well here even if you weren’t a St. Clair.”
Tasha blushed.
Cedric cleared his throat. “Alright, Marcy won that round. Does she get to choose who to fight next?”
“Of course I do,” Marcy said. “Wyn, of course.”
John grinned from ear to ear. “Now this I’ve been wanting to see. No matter who you choose, I’d like to spar with Wyn after.”
“Actually, I’m fine with that,” Marcy said. “Go ahead. I’d like to watch, anyway, and you’re way too eager to fight him.”
John jumped up from the ground and grabbed his sword. “Fantastic! But it’s not fair sword against spear.” He strapped a wooden shield to his left forearm and banged it a couple of times with his wooden training sword. “I need to even the odds.”
“Hold on a minute,” Cedric said. “We never said you could use a shield!”
“It’s fine,” Wyn said. He slid a wooden dagger into his waistline at his back, then grabbed the spear against the tree. “He’s going to need it.”
Marcy and Cedric whistled excitedly. Even Cal and Tasha were eager to see how the two men would fare against each other.
John took a readied stance with his sword and shield raised, focused. He was couched just a bit, ready to move at a moment’s notice.
Wyn, however, took Marcy’s approach. He casually walked over to a spot about ten feet from John and raised his spear. Cal moved between them and raised a hand.
“On my mark.” Cal stepped back, ready to signal the start.
Neither man looked away from each other, though both smiled.
“Begin!”
John yelled and rushed forward, bringing his sword back to prepare a strike. Wyn stepped to his left and kept his spear up and ready, though patiently waited.
John swept out with his shield in order to give his sword arm enough room to swing, but before he could finish Wyn quickly jabbed his spear to John’s exposed torso. John was startled by the speed at Wyn’s strike and regrouped, abandoning his attack in order to block the spear head. The wooden shield thudded in response to catching the dulled spear, but only managed to glance it away.
Wyn stepped to his left again, staying away from John’s shielded side. He began lunging forward, and John moved both his sword and shield to block or parry the attacks. Wyn aimed all across John’s torso, trying to trip up the Fighter by forcing him to block or dodge different areas of his body in quick succession.
In seconds, John was backpedaling while Wyn kept advancing. The reach of his spear kept him at a safe distance from John’s sword, and the speed at which he yielded it made John stay on the defensive.
Wyn changed his tactic by swinging his spear in a large arc, and John twisted his body awkwardly to block it with his shield. When he did, Wyn stepped to the other side, shifting one hand from his spear and drawing his dagger in one fluid motion.
John stood still, Wyn’s dagger held against his side. He was just too slow to avoid the strike.
The others clapped in applause. John grunted in annoyance.
“That wasn’t an equal fight,” John said. “You have too much reach with the spear!”
Wyn nodded. “Yes, I do. It’s a good weapon that’s overlooked far too often. But that was a good fight! You’re better than a lot of soldiers!”
“I want a rematch,” John said.
The others groaned.
“A win is a win,” Marcy said. “Don’t be a sore loser.”
“No, it’s fine,” Wyn said. “Here.” He stabbed the spear into the ground and left it. “Take it. I’ll take the sword and shield.”
Cedric stood up. “Now we’re talking!”
John couldn’t help but smirk. “You’re pretty confident, aren’t you?”
Wyn nodded. “I am in my own abilities. How are you with a spear?”
John’s grin lessened. “I’m decent. But it should be enough for us to use weapons we aren’t used to using.”
They each took their stances again after Wyn strapped the shield to his left arm. It felt awkward now that it covered his mark, and he knew he wouldn’t want to use a shield again while climbing. The value of freely seeing his mark unencumbered was too high. Granted, he could change his mark’s location, and the thought made him pause. Maybe a shield might not be a bad idea, after all.
"Ready?" Cal asked, taking his position again.
The two combatants nodded.
Cal dropped his hand like before, stepping back to signal their start. John began to circle around, twirling his spear. He smiled as Wyn watched him, studying his movements.
Then he attacked, and Wyn decided to analyze his style. John didn't have the best footwork, and his moves were a bit too fast and reckless. He was skilled for his age and lack of specific training, but had some areas to improve. Wyn wasn’t a master by any means, but he saw some specific flaws that he’d corrected years ago.
After a couple of minutes the Fighter suddenly stepped forward and lunged with his spear in a heavier strike. Wyn blocked it, impressed with the strength behind the stab. John was mostly strength, though, and that would be his downfall.
Wyn knew if he stayed too far back John would eventually wear him down with the spear's advantage of reach. He stepped straight at the Fighter and stabbed back as John moved out of the way and blocked it awkwardly with the shaft of the spear.
Wyn bashed him with his shield, throwing him off balance. John stumbled, and Wyn slashed at him several times over. John, to his credit, parried or avoided most of them, but Wyn ducked and moved low. He swept the Fighter's leg, threw him off balance with his shield and body, and gently hit him in the side with the wooden blade as he fell on top of him in a controlled takedown. It was a graceful move that seemed effortless by Wyn and awkward by John, ending with Wyn in control and kneeling over the younger Climber.
John laid on the grass, stunned. No one else said anything, only processing the brief fight.
John sat up and took a deep breath. “I’ve never seen anyone use a shield like that.”
Wyn nodded. “You have to improvise in combat. You never know what could happen, and you need to think quick and be decisive. I’ve forgotten that a few times myself, if it’s any consolation.”
John reached a hand up, and Wyn grabbed it to hoist the defeated Fighter to his feet. He brushed himself off and traded weapons with Wyn. “It is. I guess I need to train more.”
“Your abilities as a Fighter help make up the rest. You’re not bad by any means, and honestly a lot better than most. I have a few years on you, though.”
John nodded but didn’t respond.
“Alright Tasha,” Wyn said. “You sponsored me, so how about you ask a question?”
Tasha shook off her surprise and raised a hand to her chin. “Hmm. Actually, I have a question for you.”
Wyn perked up. “Oh?”
“Yes. Have you found a way to stop the flashbacks to your time at war?”
Wyn’s face flushed and he felt his heart race. That was the last question he expected.
“Well… not exactly. Sort of. I mean, I’ve managed to snap out of those times quicker when they come on. I think.” He scrunched his face in annoyance. He couldn’t remember the last time he fumbled over his words so badly.
“It’s alright,” Tasha said softly. “It’s just us. You don’t have to be so guarded about it. It’s good to talk about it, you know.”
Wyn nodded. “I know. It’s certainly not easy, though.”
“I can imagine,” Cal said. “I have some family who left and some who didn’t come back. It’s not a pleasant experience.”
“That’s a bit of an understatement,” Wyn said. “No offense.”
“None taken. I just know you’ll go crazy if you don’t have the support you need to vent a little. It’s good to be open about it.”
Wyn sighed and sat down. “I could never tell my family. My father couldn’t care less, and the feeling’s mutual. And I don’t want to burden my sister with the guilt or worry.”
“Wyn, that’s what family is for,” Marcy said. “You can’t reach any kind of deeper level of connection if you don’t share your experiences, good or bad.”
John plucked a small vine of grapes before handing over the bushel to Cedric. “Exactly. Plus, you could share with us and see how it feels. We’re your family, too.”
“Yes, exactly!” Tasha said. “We’re here for you. We trust you.”
Wyn looked at each of them. He’d never had anyone outside of the military to really trust or confide in. Arabelle used to be that person for him but he’d been gone so long he didn’t know where they stood. Not to mention he didn’t want her knowing everything he went through. But that was their exact point. His sister wasn’t some naive girl - she was smart and loyal. Even if he didn’t tell her at first she’d pry it out of him eventually. Maybe now would be a good time to share those memories so the chance of them coming back at a critical moment wouldn’t happen again.
Wyn smiled. He truly didn’t know how lucky he was to find his people. “Alright. I’ll share. But where should I start?”
“How about at the beginning?” John asked.
Wyn’s eyes widened. “That’s a long time and a lot of stories!”
John laughed. “Well, we have nothing but time! But I meant at the beginning of our time together. When we were fighting the wolves? That was the first time it happened here, right?”
Wyn brushed his hair. “Oh. Yes. That story. Well, it’s not a particularly pleasant one.“
“I don’t imagine any of them are,” Cedric said. “But misery loves company, as they say, and we are your company. So if you’d like to share, we’d love to listen.”
Wyn looked at each of them thoughtfully. They were all listening intently, but not to the point of scrutiny. They genuinely wanted to hear his story.
He didn’t feel negative emotions this time when he recalled and shared the battle on the hill. He felt secure and trusted, and knew, deep down, that it would be alright.