The morning of the second day passed without incident, the Silverkins sharing another family meal that played out in a similar manner to those from the day before. The adults spoke amongst themselves while the young ones did the same, with neither of Alistar’s other uncles appearing to take the slightest interest in him.
Daniel’s boys no longer ignored him during conversation, though they still directed most of their comments and questions toward an increasingly exasperated Anice and Lessa. The former had confided in Alistar and sworn that the brothers had never shown her the slightest sign of good faith for as long as she had known them. She was positive that they were up to something, and claimed to get chills whenever their cousins would complement her or cater to her in any way.
Just as he had done the day before, once breakfast had concluded Antoine told the children to go into town so that he and his brothers could continue with their previous conversations. With no other choice but to abide by his words, Edmun and Calum insisted that they visit the collegia in order to see if any of the disciples there would be up for a spar.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather do something else?” asked Alistar, anxious at having arrived at the training grounds that were located a short ways away from his master’s home.
Edmun rolled his eyes. “If that were the case, I wouldn’t have come here.”
While this was true, Alistar didn’t want to be associated with the two of them if they were going to be starting trouble.
“What’s the big deal?” said Calum, who was wearing a fine set of clothes that was slightly more modest than what he’d worn the day before. “It’s common sense that you can challenge disciples at any collegia. Did you lie when you said you practiced here?”
“I just don’t think there’ll be anyone who can match you two, is all.”
He was staring at the dummy-studded training grounds where he had begged for food a few months back.
“Let them do what they want,” said Anice, whose eager tone mislead the boys into thinking that she wanted to watch them show off. “We’re already here, aren’t we?”
Recognizing the look in her eyes as one of subtle mischief, Alistar knew that she was just hoping that they would get hurt in the spar. “If it’s what they want to do, it would be rude to turn them down.”
Having given up on trying to convince them otherwise, he turned his attention to the training grounds where at least forty youths were currently honing their swordsmanship, either against the many practice dummies in the area or in spars against one another. Mr. Ashel was visible walking to and fro throughout the grounds, a few injured children sitting on the benches to the left of the training area where whitewashed overhangs shielded them from the relentless sunlight.
“Thankfully we didn’t bring our cloaks,” said Calum, who wiped a long line of sweat from his large forehead and then began to approach the grounds. He settled an ink-coloured gaze on the only adult in the area—altered as his eyes currently were—and called out to Mr. Ashel just as the man finished giving some pointers to a pair of sparring youths.
“You there, are you the instructor here?”
“What do you think?” said the man, looking down his blocky nose at the boy. “And you are?”
“I’m a third-tier apprentice swordsman. I was wondering if anyone of the same rank would be interested in a spar?”
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“Ho, it’s been a few weeks since someone came to challenge a disciple.” Adjusting his white robe, the well-built man put on a thoughtful look for a moment before he called out to the grounds at large. “Everyone, take a break.” Spotting Alistar and the others, he added, “We’ve got some visitors who’re looking to spar. The first one’s a third-tier apprentice. Any volunteers?”
Most of the movement in the area ceased as Alistar and the others walked over to join Calum.
“Ah, it’s just them two that want to spar,” he assured Mr. Ashel, feeling the need to clarify. “We’re just here to watch.”
“You sure you don’t want to join, potato boy?”
Several of the disciples called out ‘potato boy’ in surprise, apparently recognizing him from his previous visit.
As his companions glanced over with mixed looks, Alistar smothered a sigh and said, “I’m only a second-tier apprentice, so I don’t want to bore anybody.”
Mr. Ashel looked at him as if he were up to no good. “You kid, why do you say ridiculous things every time you come here? First, you say you’re practicing how to cut things with your swordsman’s aura and it somehow happens to be true, and now you say you’re only a second-tier apprentice? Do you like keeping people guessing?”
Both of his cousins looked taken aback, the eldest turning and speaking in a disbelieving tone. “Is what he said true? You can use swordsman’s aura to cut things?”
“Just a bit,” he said humbly, “but it took a lot of work.”
“How long have you been practicing?”
“Alie’s only been practicing for three years. Why, is that good?”
Murmurs of shock swept through the training ground, as Mr. Ashel raised an eyebrow. Analyzing Alistar’s uncomfortable expression, however, the man refrained from commenting.
Anne! Why can’t you learn?
“Is that so?” A bit of jealousy seeped into Edmun’s tone, his gaze not as agreeable as it had been throughout the morning. “That’s two years less than it took me. It’s almost hard to believe.”
Calum suddenly looked less enthusiastic to spar, but a lanky, long-haired boy around his age abruptly volunteered to compete. This left him with no choice but to commit to his earlier challenge. Interestingly enough, five other boys volunteered right after the first had spoken up, all of them casting furtive glances at Anice and Lessa.
“What about you?” asked Mr. Ashel. “What’s your stratum?”
Edmun brandished the badge that he’d shown off the day before. “First-tier adept.”
Another wave of murmurs swept throughout the disciples, though one young man eventually spoke out and accepted the challenge. While all of this was going on, Alistar was monitoring Tramon’s house with his magical awareness, wondering where his master was as he sensed nobody inside.
Please, please, don’t come back while I’m here.
If Tramon discovered that he was not only skipping out on his lessons for the week but was also using some of this spare time to visit and train with another instructor, Alistar was afraid that he would have to limp home after the spars that would doubtlessly follow.
Mr. Ashel and his disciples formed a loose circle around Calum and the first volunteer, who was dressed in the same training robes that his teacher was wearing. Both were provided with wooden swords by the pepper-haired instructor, who bade them to tap the tips of their blades against one another in a show of fair play before he loosed a loud whistle and announced the beginning of the bout.
Calum rushed forward without hesitation, opening with an aggressive full-bodied lunge that forced the other boy to respond with a panicked parry and a desperate sidestep. Alistar was silently impressed by his cousin’s flawless execution of the third-tier strike that improved upon the basic lunge of the apprentice stratum’s first tier. This move made use of more muscles than its lesser counterpart, and could be used mid-dash considering that it relied on the momentum of one’s upper body to reinforce the weight behind their sword. It had taken Alistar over two weeks to learn this lunge, as it involved more difficult postures for the shoulders and hips than a standard one, and was only viable when the body was energized by swordsman’s aura.
Although the long-haired boy had been a bit taken aback, he followed up with a predictable yet flawless series of standard strikes, mixing up his combinations in an attempt to deceive Calum so that he could create an opening. The Silverkin boy didn’t let up, however, intent as he was to maintain his forward momentum and to control the pace of the exchange. After a few well-timed parries, he pushed forward with a horizontal slash that forced the other boy to jump backward, though the disciple recovered quickly and leapt forward to respond with a lunge of his own. Calum sidestepped this by a hair, opting for a one-handed grip on his weapon and raising his free arm at the last second so as to avoid being struck, before he slashed at the boy’s hands with the additional reach that came with a single-handed strike.