The other disciples gave a short round of applause, the defeated boy retrieving his sword and then bowing to Calum in respect. “You’ve got a very good understanding of the first three sets of skills. You deserve the win.” He returned the practice sword to his instructor, who tossed it to the second boy to volunteer.
“Get in there, Handel.”
“Er, Instructor. My stomach is a bit upset, so I think I’ll pass.” With that, Handel shamelessly passed the practice sword along to the third volunteer.
The next boy rolled his shoulders and removed the top part of his robe, revealing a lean, sweat-covered body as he faced Calum in the hot sun. While the two readied themselves for the next engagement, Alistar mused over the fact that the previous fight had played out similarly to the spars that he and his friends often entertained. For all of the study, practice and self-discipline that went into learning the ways of the sword, actual fights tended to end in a matter of moments.
Calum had a more difficult time defeating the next boy, though he emerged victorious in the end. The results were the same for the rest of the challengers, which changed Alistar’s opinion of his cousin by a slight degree. It was widely known that House Silverkin valued strength above all else, and that most of its members were quite capable when it came to combat. Evidently the rumours were true, for even a fool like Daniel’s youngest son could seamlessly defeat multiple opponents of similar achievements in a consecutive fashion.
“Not bad, boy,” grumbled Mr. Ashel as the final spar ended with similar results to the previous ones. “Not bad at all! Where is it that you two study at?”
Calum puffed out his chest. “We study under the best—”
“We’re students at the arcannia in Valay,” said Edmun, silencing his brother with a forceful interjection. “We study swordsmanship with an instructor there.”
“Is that so? I didn’t think they had any sword instructors there.”
“There are plenty. A lot of the teachers there are arcanites, after all.”
Mr. Ashel had read the look that Edmun sent his brother and decided to drop the matter. “Alright, looks like it’s your turn. We’ve only got one disciple of the same rank as you, but I should warn you. Treves is the senior disciple of this sword school, and he’s quite talented.”
“All the better.”
Treves was a couple of years older than Edmun, and at least a finger’s length taller. With a flat, pimply face, broad shoulders and bulky arms, he provided a stark contrast to the lean and handsome, long-haired Edmun. While the two faced one another with analyzing eyes, Mr. Ashel ordered that the circle of observers give the combatants more space.
After tapping their swords together, Edmun took up a confident pose with one arm behind his back, his sword held horizontally in front of him. Alistar didn’t recognize this stance, watching with excitement as Treves struck up another unknown pose. A warm breeze brushed past as everyone awaited the instructor’s signal, leaves shuffling on nearby trees as the light songs of unseen birds gained prominence in the relative silence.
Mr. Ashel looked around before letting out a loud whistle, giving the signal to begin.
Unlike with the previous fights, neither of the combatants moved a muscle. Both simply stood there while maintaining their respective stances, reading the minute movements of the other with unbroken focus as those around them awaited the first move. Were this a real fight with actual weapons, life and death would likely be decided in the coming moments.
Treves took action first, lowering his posture and swatting at one of Edmun’s knees before pulling back the moment that his attack was blocked.
“What was that?” Edmun laughed, dashing after the young man with an upward slash of his practice sword.
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Treves sidestepped the strike and then avoided the downward slash that followed, stepping in close and ramming his right shoulder into Edmun’s chest, his movements momentarily enhanced by the swordsman’s aura that he had doubtlessly distributed to his lower body. Edmun was pushed a few steps back with a grunt of discomfort, though Alistar could sense that he had likewise relied on his swordsman’s aura to reinforce his torso.
As Treves pushed forward with a flurry of creative strikes, Edmun had no choice but to retreat one step at a time while doing his best to defend against the young man’s attacks. Both seemed to have a similar level of talent, but Treves was clearly the stronger of the two. Still, this didn’t deter Edmun from charging forward with all his strength, accepting a couple of inevitable hits that seemed to steal his breath away in the process. Unfazed by the pain, Edmun landed a strike on his opponent’s right shoulder, drawing a thick line of blood where his swordsman’s aura penetrated the youth’s skin. This elicited a series of complaints from the onlookers, who began to chastise Edmun as a cheater for using swordsman’s aura outside of his body during a simple spar.
“It’s fine,” called Treves, who jumped several paces backwards and then held his sword in a two-handed grip. With a sudden expression of focus, the air around the practice sword began to shimmer as if it were floating above a crackling fire. “If he can use it, so can I!”
Edmun’s pupils contracted, a hint of fear creeping onto his smooth-skinned face. Even so, he defended against the young man’s following strike as best he could, his face stretching in surprise as the sword in his hands was snapped in half after a brief moment of resistance, some of the splinters cutting at his face. Just as Treves was about to land the winning strike, Edmun’s eyes momentarily reverted to their usual sheen of silver, his stare threatening.
Treves pulled back in shock and growing unease, though the remaining half of Edmun’s sword quickly buried itself into his other shoulder with much more force than the attack that had previously injured him, causing him to fall to one knee as his left arm drooped to the side.
Alistar was disgusted at the cowardice that he had just witnessed, seeing in Edmun the same eyes that had constantly looked down on him during his childhood in Crystellum. Even Calum was frowning as the surrounding disciples began to grumble in anger and disapproval, none willing to openly criticise Edmun now that he had revealed himself as a member of the kingdom’s most powerful house of nobles, along with his true nature.
Apologizing to Caedmon in his mind, Alistar strode forward with the intent to challenge his cousin to a spar. Although he didn’t interact with the disciples of the collegia’s sword school that often, he saw them almost every day and enjoyed the times when he would exchange waves or smiles with the other youths in passing. Edmun should have lost the fight, but had relied on his status to both abuse and humiliate Treves, who had only been competing out of a sense of sportsmanship and goodwill.
Subduing a glare, a red-faced Mr. Ashel grated, “Who are you?”
“That’s none of your concern,” said a now black-eyed Edmun, tossing the broken sword aside and then letting out a bored yawn. “I think I’ll be going. I didn’t expect the disciples in Distan to only be worth this much.” Crossing paths with Alistar, he said, “What are you doing? We’re leaving now.”
Ignoring his cousin, he walked over to Treves and rested a hand on his shoulder, casting a basic mending spell without saying a word. A moment later, he rested a hand on the boy’s other shoulder and repeated the process. Since his affinity with healing magics was so high, the basic magic spell was able to fully mend the boy’s injuries.
“I—it’s healed?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, quietly so that nobody else could hear him. “I’m ashamed to be related to him.”
Treves nodded his thanks, though he couldn’t hide his disheartened expression. He would likely never forget the humiliation that he’d just suffered, for abuse at the hands of a noble was something that could only be endured by those of lesser stature in society.
“Don’t waste your energy on him,” said Edmun, whose tone betrayed the annoyance he felt after having been ignored just moments before. “Come, I’ve grown bored of—”
“Absolutely spineless!”
Alistar’s gut felt as if it had frozen over as he recognized the voice that suddenly rang throughout the training grounds. How come I couldn’t sense him?
Tramon appeared at Treves’s side with a light gust of wind, holding a sack of food that he had likely just purchased at the market. He helped Treves to his feet with one hand, patting him on the back afterwards in an encouraging manner. “You’ve got a real gift, boy. It’s not your fault that you were facing a cowardly little snake.”
“What did you call me?” Once again, Edmun’s eyes reverted back to their original colour. “Who do you think you are?”
“Your grandfather!”
“If you knew who my grandfather really was, you’d be cutting off one of your arms and begging me for forgive—”
Edmun fell to the ground, unconscious, an apple rolling away from his unmoving body after colliding with his forehead in the blink of an eye. Retrieving his fallen fruit, Tramon spat on Edmun’s face and then fixed Calum with a cold stare. “What are you standing there for? Take this filth away, before he disgraces the art any further.”