“My life at the College, short as it was, contributed quite a lot to the person that I am today. Despite how much magic - or at least our understanding of it - has changed over the years, I never forget those early years. I had to be exposed to the teachings of the College, or I never would have had the foundation I needed to take the field and my knowledge of it to another level. Despite my desire to travel, I found myself grounded there. Was the magic impractical in that era? Perhaps. Were there challenges that threatened to end or perhaps sabotage my ultimate purpose in life? Without a doubt. But even in the dark, one can find the light of illumination. With a proper foundation, there is no limit to how high one can build.”
- Excerpt from “Tome of the Body” by Samuel Bragg
The next month and a half passed by in a blur. Samuel devoted himself entirely to his studies and reveled in the flood of new information that his classes offered. Each of his teachers, now confident that he’d mastered the basics, had begun to offer him more challenging tasks. He regretted the extra work it created for them; none of the other students were seeking knowledge beyond their year, but they seemed all too willing to part with knowledge. They seemed fascinated with how quickly he absorbed their lessons and kept feeding his insatiable mind. It was the best part of his life, he reflected. Never before had he been given permission, even encouraged, to continue to learn.
“It’s a shame I cannot promote you to my second-year class,” Archmage Ashara was fond of saying. The pretty blonde woman had gone over his mid-term test scores with him, shaking her head in mild amazement. “I wish you favored my school, Apprentice Bragg. I sense you could take Divination to another plane.”
Samuel had been flattered by the praise but had nothing to offer in reply. He received similar remarks from his other teachers, including Master Kiinor, his Restoration teacher. Samuel felt that he suffered greatly when it came to using mana to repair wounds and affect the body, yet his teacher continued to push him with challenging questions. Samuel did his best to rise to those challenges, both to prove he could and to live up to her expectations.
Nothing, however, compared to the challenge and excitement of the extra hour spent in Master Astori’s office. Just twice a week, the grumpy teacher welcomed the half-dozen students who had proven their worth and posed questions about the intricacies of the arcane. Samuel was surprised to find that their focus was not limited to Transmutation as he’d expected, but every conceivable use for magic that they could think of. There was no limit, no accepted frame of reference that they didn’t challenge in their theories.
The most challenging yet oddly rewarding part of these study groups was the extra assignments that Master Astori set for each of them. They were unique - Samuel never got the same question as the others - and Astori invited them to pose questions of their own. Samuel was sure he’d need several months to catch up to the rest of them and offer any sort of challenge, but he’d been pleasantly surprised to find that wasn’t the case.
His current challenge, the feasibility of using mana to enhance the physical body beyond attack spells, was posed to him by Otis. He struggled with this concept quite a bit, given his lack of physical prowess. But he took some small comfort in the challenge that he’d given in return. Otis had to figure out if magic could be directly applied to other forms of magic, as one saw in the art of enchantment when mana was condensed into runes and placed on physical objects.
His feet carrying him without conscious thought, Samuel turned off the Kingsroad, the main street that ran from the southern gate right to the entrance of the palace, cutting through the heart of the city. It was busier than normal with the dinner hour approaching, but he was able to navigate his way easily enough, and finally stepped onto the side street that led to his father’s old estate with a sigh of relief.
Arthur was in front of the house as usual, but unlike the previous days, he was not waiting at the top of the stairs with his hands clasped primly behind him. This difference was enough to shake Samuel out of his deep thoughts, not to mention the fact that he’d removed his crisp steward’s robe, and wore a simple dark blue vest with white leggings and grey breeches. He was also in the middle of an intense fight, with Shigeru as his opponent.
Both warriors were moving with careful grace, their weapons flashing bright silver under the last rays of the midday sun as they tested each others’ defense. Shigeru’s curved sword was slightly longer than Arthur’s thin straight blade, but the steward clearly had enough speed to make up the difference. Both seemed equally matched to Samuel’s eyes, who watched in silent marvel as the two expert fighters flitted around each other, trying to find an opening.
They’re like dancers on a stage, he thought, remembering the one performance he’d seen as a young child, where acrobatic dancers displayed profound balance and agility. He’d seen both of them fight before, of course. But then, their movements had been almost clinical in nature. Graceful, yes, but with a simple, straightforward goal - to kill their enemies. By comparison, this seemed an elaborate, ornate performance.
It’s not every warrior that can hold their own against young Shigeru, a voice sounded in the back of his mind. Samuel glanced down in time to see Grimr appear at his feet. The Ancient - Samuel couldn’t think of him as a mere cat even in this tiny form - leaped lightly onto Samuel’s shoulders, clearing the two-meter gap with ease and settling there. You are blessed to have such a powerful protector.
“How long-” Samuel began to reply out loud, but caught himself. How long have they been fighting? Also, why are they fighting?
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Grimr didn’t reply at once, instead watching as Arthur took two swift steps forward, throwing himself some feet into the air and carving a powerful cross with his sword. Shigeru parried the first stroke easily, then leaned to the side like a blade of grass in a breeze, narrowly avoiding the tip as Arthur brought it down. His retaliatory strike was quick to come, but Arthur knocked the curved blade aside even as he landed, rolling to end his movement.
Shigeru worried that he’d grown soft during his time in Milagre. He could have practiced with the guards, or even trained alone, but he recognized the skill your steward has, and wished to test himself.
I’m surprised Arthur would agree to fight him, Samuel thought with amazement. He’s not a young man.
There was a faint snorting sound from Grimr, a noise that he assumed was laughter. You are ignorant of the warrior’s way, young Samuel.
Well, obviously. But what does that have to do with anything?
When you find a new piece of knowledge you’d never discovered before, what is the first thing you think of?
The answer came to him without hesitation. I’d do anything I could to learn it.
As you should. It is the same with warriors. But they see the unknown in another warrior. The desire to test themselves, to test their mettle against the other warrior is strong. Just as you sharpen your mind with learning and study, warriors sharpen their will against each other.
Samuel frowned thoughtfully, watching Shigeru and Arthur as he considered the thought. It made a certain sense now that it had been explained in terms he could understand. Still, the premise confused him. In his experience, people only fought when they were angry. Violence, no matter how beautiful, was a tool of war. He’d never thought to assign any value of learning or mental growth to it. Perhaps it wasn’t the brutal art he’d always assumed. Perhaps it was worth further study.
“Still,” he muttered, his voice low enough that only Grimr could make out his words, “Fighting isn’t my thing.”
Grimr let out that low laugh again, then jumped lightly from his shoulder back to the ground. Well, they shouldn’t be much longer.
Samuel turned his eyes back to the dueling pair, confused. How did Grimr know that the fight was almost over? Did Arthur look as if he was about to outsmart Shigeru? Was the Nihon-Jan showing signs of tiredness? Or maybe it was the other way around, and Shigeru’s youthfulness or mastery was about to earn him the victory?
Quick as a flash, Shigeru took a long step forward, his blade arcing through the air for Arthur’s head. The steward knocked it aside, not with his own sword, but with the thick glove he wore on his left hand. Then he struck with his own weapon as the curved blade sailed past, hitting it with enough force to knock it out of Shigeru’s hand. Then he lunged forward, the point of his rapier traveling in a perfectly straight line, stopping an inch short of the foreigner’s neck.
Samuel let out a gasp of surprise. Shigeru, disarmed, should have been the clear loser of that fight. Arthur had been fast in moving for the victory. But Shigeru had moved even more quickly. Somehow - Samuel hadn’t even seen him draw the second blade at his waist - he’d gotten his shorter sword out of its sheath, and held it in a strong back-handed grip, the tip pointed directly at the side of his steward’s throat.
The two weapons remained where they were for a second longer, the points gleaming wickedly in the fading sunlight. Then, as one, the two warriors both took a step back, breathing heavily. Arthur’s face was fixed in a deep frown of concentration and he seemed tired, but he still slid the sword into the sheath at his waist with a graceful move. For his part, Shigeru looked mildly surprised at the conclusion of the fight. Despite being disarmed, he somehow looked as if he’d expected to win.
You expected Shigeru to win, didn’t you? Samuel asked in his mind, directing his question at the small black cat. Grimr had paused them, regarding Arthur anew with something that looked remarkably like interest, even approval.
I had, Grimr admitted. I could sense him growing tired, while Shigeru maintained his form. I did not expect such a burst of energy. You are quite lucky to have him as your steward.
Shigeru sheathed his smaller blade, then retrieved his sword from where it lay on the cobbles, his expression now showing undeniable respect. Once both of his weapons were stowed away safely, he bowed deeply in Arthur’s direction. “You are a formidable warrior, Arthur-san. I am honored to have fought you.”
Arthur let out a deep breath, and returned the gesture as best he could. The older man looked exhausted now that he wasn’t fighting. “The honor is mine, Master Shigeru. I don’t think I’ve ever met a warrior of your age that could move so well. Your experience is obvious.”
Samuel cleared his throat to let the two warriors know he was there, then took a step forward. “That was amazing, Arthur. And you as well, Shigeru.”
They both nodded in reply to his comment, but he could tell his remark had less weight in the moment then their own. Arthur still managed to rearrange his face into a polite and respectful mask as he bowed. “Thank you, sir. I apologize for taking up the walkway and holding you up. I… did not expect the fight to last as long.”
“How long were you fighting him?”
“It must have been nearly twenty minutes,” the steward admitted. “I admit, I didn’t think much of it when Master Shigeru offered me a challenge, but I accepted. He nearly bested me.”
“Well, from what I could see, you fought just as well as he did,” Samuel offered. “I knew you were both good fighters, but I couldn’t even keep up with you. I can’t imagine how much practice it would take to get that good.”
“It’s a worthwhile skill to learn, the sword. Every young lord should practice. Even if you cannot achieve mastery, it is a good idea.”
To his surprise, Samuel found that he almost agreed. Considering his desire to travel, learning how to use a sword couldn’t hurt. “Perhaps another time, when I’m less busy with school. For now, I’m hungry.”
Arthur nodded in understanding as one of the staff came over with his outer robe. He donned the cloth, tying it closed and ensuring that the hilt of his sword remained clear. “An excellent choice, sir. Let us get inside before Seamus’s cooking is ruined by sitting uneaten.”