The girls once again released themselves from the carriage the moment it pulled up to Martin’s house. Tolomon got out, keeping an eye on them as he waited for Indenuel.

“Grandami Sara!” Emilia called out. “We’re here! We’re here!”

“Ah! There you are! Look at both of you! So grown up!” Indenuel couldn’t remember the last time they came. Sara, though she had an entire houseful of family slowly leaving, still welcomed them in as excitedly as if they were her own children. “You just missed lunch, but I will still whip something up for you two. Come on. Matteo! Have you eaten?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve eaten,” Matteo said.

“Not that I can tell. Come into the kitchens,” Sara said.

The boy glanced at Indenuel, who gave a shrug.

“Coming,” Matteo said.

Indenuel smiled as they walked in the house. It was quite the compliment that Sara didn’t ask Indenuel into the kitchens.

“Are you going to tell Nathaniel about yesterday?” Tolomon asked as Matteo and the girls left for the kitchens.

“No,” Indenuel said.

“Tell me what?” Nathaniel asked.

Indenuel spun to see him walking up, smiling. Indenuel glared at Tolomon. “You heard him coming, didn’t you?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Tolomon said.

Indenuel shook his head, annoyed, but not necessarily angry.

Nathaniel patted Tolomon and Indenuel on the shoulder. “Come outside to the gardens. There’s still family trying to leave, and I don’t want to be in the way.”

They did, and Indenuel told Nathaniel everything. It was impossible to lie to him. By the end of the story, Nathaniel looked deeply troubled by the whole thing.

“I know some of those men stationed in Oramin,” he said, rubbing his chin. “I know them. What are they doing?” Indenuel shrugged, feeling exhausted. “I’ll have to send them a letter.”

“You honestly think that will help?” Indenuel asked.

“It’s helped you, hasn’t it?” Nathaniel asked. Indenuel sighed, knowing he was right. “And you… you cleared the mark yourself?”

Indenuel pulled the collar of his shirt to prove it was gone. Nathaniel shook his head in amazement. “That’s a dangerous habit you have.”

“I learned quickly. My town would have killed me if they discovered any sort of mark on me.”

“I’m more concerned about what this does to your soul,” Nathaniel said.

“It’s gone, isn’t it?” Indenuel asked, not ready for a lecture.

“Api!” Nathaniel turned in enough time to see Diego running into him, giving him a hug. “Tolomon’s here! Have you fought him yet?”

“He is my guest. I don’t fight people I willingly bring into my home,” Nathaniel said.

“Oh, but he’s a Graduate!” Diego said. “And look! It’s Indenuel! I hear he’s been getting better.”

“Mmm,” Indenuel managed to say with a pained smile.

“Not everything is swordfights, Diego,” Nathaniel said.

“I know. It’s also talking and building relationships, and you three have clearly already done it! So, get on to the sword fighting! Some of my best learning is watching Tolomon fight,” Diego said.

Nathaniel smiled, resting a hand on Diego’s shoulder. “You know, Tolomon, I’m quite sure Diego has told me in detail your fight with Captain Luiz after you recovered from grey death about twenty times now.”

“It was incredible!” Diego said as though it only happened yesterday.

Tolomon gave the smallest of smiles as he looked at the flowers in the garden.

“I could use some practice. It’s been a week, and I haven’t even pulled this out.” Indenuel patted the hilt of his sword. “Besides, I’d like to show how much I’ve learned.”

“Yes! The Warrior is on my side! What do you think, Api?” Diego asked.

Nathaniel nodded. “I am curious to see how much you’ve improved, too.”

“And when you inevitably destroy me, it’s only fair that Tolomon does the same to you, so my pride isn’t hurt nearly as bad,” Indenuel said.

Nathaniel laughed, and Tolomon shook his head ever so slightly.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Diego said.

“Well, let’s go further in the gardens. I want to make sure Adrian doesn’t watch. The boy takes after his mother. He hates to see me get hurt,” Nathaniel said, patting Diego’s shoulder as they started walking.

Tolomon smiled at Diego. “Did you know I was never able to beat your father until I became a Graduate?”

Diego stared at Tolomon as though he was lying. “Really?”

“That’s not true,” Nathaniel said.

“Then when did I beat you?” Tolomon asked.

“That one time in Capilas,” Nathaniel said.

“I was a Graduate,” came Tolomon’s easy reply.

“What? No, you weren’t.”

“I became a Graduate at twenty-one. We were twenty-three when we went to Capilas.”

Nathaniel seemed to study this out in his mind before shaking his head. “I’ve been hit one too many times in the head. My memory isn’t what it used to be. There is no way. What about-” Nathaniel paused, again thinking it through. He about said something else, but stopped, frowning.

“See,” Tolomon said, smiling at Diego and giving him a nudge. “It’s like I said. If you have even half your father’s skill, you will make it far in the military.”

Diego seemed to study his father in a new light. Nathaniel gave a shrug. “Well, I guess Tolomon is right. But the reason why I was so good was because of your Uncle Carlos.”

Tolomon gave an emphatic nod. “That man was a legend.”

“It was the only reason I was as good as I am. I had to fight him all the time,” Nathaniel said with a smile. “He taught me everything I needed to know before I even got to military training.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Indenuel frowned, almost forgetting Nathaniel had an older brother.

“Now Carlos would have made one hell of a Graduate,” Tolomon said as they moved to a more open space in the gardens.

“Women,” Nathaniel said, a slight shake of his head as he smiled wide. “The single biggest deterring factor to the Graduate program.”

“If it’s not too personal, can I ask how Carlos died?” Indenuel asked as they slowed down.

“It was the battle of Un Shaiyan in Zimoro about eight years ago now,” Nathaniel said, unsheathing his sword as Diego and Tolomon moved toward the edges of the garden to give them space. “They were ambushed, which started the battle. At one point it was him against seventy-five Zimorans, holding them off until the rest of the army got there. He managed to whittle it down to thirty before the Zimorans killed him. The army arrived later that day, too late to do anything. A battle lost, but we won the war in the end, so his sacrifice was not in vain.” Indenuel frowned, staring at Nathaniel in shock. Nathaniel gave him a curious look. “Ready?”

It was then that he realized Nathaniel was in basic stance, and Indenuel hadn’t even pulled out his sword. “Right. Sorry.” He unsheathed it, slowly moving into basic stance.

Carlos, a legend according to Nathaniel and Tolomon, the two best swordsmen he’d ever seen. Carlos, who could have become a better Graduate than even Tolomon. Carlos, who died after facing seventy-five Zimoran soldiers alone.

How the hell was Indenuel going to survive the final battle?

“Do you want anyone to come to… to keep my corruption in check?” Indenuel asked.

Nathaniel gave a small shrug. “I trust you.”

Indenuel tried to smile. Nathaniel listened to him admit how he used tree corruptive powers from a distance only yesterday, and yet still he trusted him. “Should you, though?”

Nathaniel smiled, then went for a jab that Indenuel blocked. “Clearly someone has to.”

Indenuel snorted before throwing himself into the different stances. Nathaniel blocked every one before Indenuel elbowed him in the face. He had never seen someone beam so brightly after getting their bottom lip split open.

“Really sorry,” Indenuel couldn’t help but say. “I know I shouldn’t say sorry because this is combat style, but I still feel guilty hurting you.”

Nathaniel laughed as he wiped his chin with his fingers. “There are a lot of things about combat style to get used to, no?”

Indenuel met Nathaniel’s blade, blocked hit after hit. “Are you still going easy?”

“No, I’m not. How else am I supposed to check your progress if not try as hard as I can and see if you match it?”

“Are you lying to make me feel better?”

Nathaniel blocked the blade again. “A student can’t progress if their teacher is lying to them.”

It was then that Indenuel realized he had done it. He learned the basics of sword fighting. Yes, Nathaniel managed to break his nose again, and yes he was certain this would end with him unconscious on the ground, but he was holding his own against Nathaniel. The trees, the demons, the weather, the pain, it wasn’t there. He didn’t need it.

Indenuel blocked another round of attacks before going in for his own. He barely made three strikes when he felt a searing pain at his shoulder and saw Nathaniel’s sword buried there. Indenuel barely had time to comprehend it before he felt a pain on the side of his head, and everything went black.

He opened his eyes, flat on his back, with Tolomon and Nathaniel leaning over him. Nathaniel was beaming. “Well done, Indenuel.”

Indenuel tried not to get embarrassed at the praise. Yes, he was flat on his back, all his injuries healed, and clearly lost the actual fight, but Nathaniel’s praise was everything to him.

Nathaniel helped him to his feet as he shook off some of the heal fatigue, but he still noticed Nathaniel’s split lip. “I’d feel better if I healed that myself,” Indenuel said.

“Sure. Go ahead.”

Indenuel placed his fingers on Nathaniel’s temple, sensing the broken skin, pouring healing power into him to stitch the lip and keep the blood regulated. Indenuel let go, and Nathaniel was already cleaning his chin with a handkerchief.

“When can I fight you combat style, Api?” Diego asked.

“Your first combat style needs to be on the training grounds,” Nathaniel said, tucking his handkerchief away. “It’s a rite of passage. I’m not going to mess that up.”

“Aw! Come on, Api!” Diego said.

“Two more years,” Nathaniel said, giving his son a side hug. “Then you can fight me combat style all you want. Away from your mother’s gaze, of course.”

“Don’t go easy on me, either,” Diego said.

“That you can count on,” Nathaniel said, squeezing him tightly before giving him a jab in the side with his finger, which made Diego jump.

“Api!” Diego said.

“I can already tell I’m going to destroy you in two years,” Nathaniel said before going with more jabs with his fingers to tickle him. Diego laughed, batting Nathaniel’s hands away.

Indenuel smiled before looking away again. His thoughts lingered on his father, wondering how much of Garen’s words he could trust.

“Ready, Tolomon?” Nathaniel asked.

“Have you got enough rest?” Tolomon asked.

Nathaniel smiled, unsheathing his sword again and ushering Diego away. “We all know why you’re really doing this.”

Tolomon shook his head as Indenuel backed away, not sure how much space to give them. “And we all know you’re going to be the first person to knock me out,” Tolomon said.

“You still haven’t been knocked out?” Nathaniel asked. “How long has it been? Sixteen? Seventeen years since you became a Graduate?” Tolomon unsheathed his sword, moving to basic stance, saying nothing. Nathaniel shook his head. “I’d almost feel bad trying to break that record.”

Tolomon’s smile deepened. “Go ahead and try, nobleman.”

Nathaniel went to basic stance himself. “Oh, I will, commoner.”

They struck fast and hard. Their movements a blur, but blurs Indenuel was starting to recognize. Both he and Diego instinctively took a step back. Diego watched with fascination, like he was taking mental notes on the whole thing, and Indenuel still couldn’t help but think Nathaniel had gone easy on Indenuel. However, the more he watched the more he realized Nathaniel hadn’t gone easy on him at all. He was matching Tolomon’s speed, his sword insanely fast on the defensive, and switched to far broader and slower strokes on the offensive. Slower, comparatively, hardly any time given to strike Tolomon before he blocked them and moved back into quick defensive strokes. Indenuel watched in amazement as Tolomon took a sword to the shoulder and hardly noticed. In fact, Tolomon jerked his shoulder away in what Indenuel thought was a pain reaction, but Nathaniel came with the sword so Tolomon could punch him square in the face. Nathaniel lost his grip, holding his face. Tolomon pulled the sword out of his shoulder before pointing both at Nathaniel, and Indenuel’s jaw dropped. He still remembered the pain of that kind of wound, and yet Tolomon shrugged it off and still used his two hands like there wasn’t a sword wound in his shoulder.

Tolomon went after Nathaniel with both swords, gashes appearing on his arms and shoulders before Nathaniel ducked, moving behind Tolomon and leaping onto his back to try and throw him off balance, wrapping his arm around his neck tightly.

Tolomon dropped one of the swords and grabbed Nathaniel, throwing him easily in the opposite direction. Indenuel backed away as Nathaniel slid close, blood and dirt covering his shoulder and face. He winced in sympathy. Nathaniel got back up to his feet before grabbing Indenuel’s sword and pulling it out, heading straight for Tolomon. He was ready, his two swords out, his face focused. The metal hit, Nathaniel doing his best to block one blade and dodge the other. Indenuel backed away even further, and still wasn’t sure he was giving them enough room.

The clangs of metal were noticed by other members of the house. They were far enough away that they only got a few observers. Though Indenuel saw Rosa right off. She winced at a particularly brutal punch to Tolomon’s face and the returning kick to the chest Nathaniel received before she turned around and ushered some of the younger children away from the spectacle.

Nathaniel was in a really bad state, battered and broken, yet still standing, if breathing more raggedly. Tolomon looked like he was, with blood pouring from his shoulder, nose, and mouth, but he was so focused it seemed as though he didn’t notice them.

Nathaniel managed to disarm one of the swords and picked it up, hardly pausing to breathe before going in with everything. Tolomon blocked the two blades with his one. The man had a literal mound of daggers on his person, yet he didn’t touch them. He simply blocked the two swords, his own sword a blur. Tolomon disarmed Nathaniel, and Indenuel’s sword went flying into the garden. Indenuel tried to see where it went so he could go get it later.

Their swords clashed, and they were stuck in a struggle of strength when it happened. Emilia, who was clear across the other side of the house, gave a shriek of pure happiness. Indenuel was familiar with her shrieks. Someone must have brought over a puppy or some pudding. Either way, Emilia shrieked, and for a good heartbeat or two it sounded like she was terrified before it turned into laughter. But for that heartbeat, Tolomon’s concentration broke, and his eyes shot in her direction, worry creasing his face. Nathaniel punched Tolomon hard, and he staggered. Indenuel straightened, concerned. He could almost see him scrambling to regain his focus. Nathaniel hit him three more times in the head with the hilt of his sword, blows that should have knocked a regular man out. In a final act of desperation Tolomon dropped his sword and grabbed Nathaniel’s wrist to stop him from hitting him. Nathaniel tried another punch, but Tolomon grabbed his other wrist, twisting them so both wrists snapped before headbutting him, knocking him out. Nathaniel started to fall, but Tolomon caught him. There was something brotherly in the way Tolomon eased him to the ground and knelt beside him. He closed his eyes as he healed whatever brain damage there was before moving through, healing the cuts, bruises, and broken bones.

Indenuel walked over to Tolomon, and when his bodyguard opened his eyes, the worry disappeared, and his face became unreadable.