The days burned like oil in a lantern, ebbing away as the energy the light needed to survive was slowly depleted.
Valeri, however, was excited. The first days of training were gruelling, frustrating, rage-inducing, and anything in-between those expressions. They had been beyond difficult for Valeri to accomplish, especially with the distinct lack of the feeling of progress. She didn’t feel any stronger, or any more capable than she had the days prior.
A few times she’d had thought to quit, to just not turn up one day. She had felt like she’d been snubbed by Maximilian, the man that had enchanted her so thoroughly in the course of a few hours, but every time she thought back to that oath she’d made to herself, in the image of Uaele.
The training was so demanding, both physically and emotionally, that thoughts of quitting were a constant thought. But when she thought back to the oath, the genuine emotions she’d found herself laden with that night, the woman who’d tended to her wounds just as she had her sons in decades past, she always found that renewed power to continue forwards.
In fact, it was almost easy. There was nothing easy about learning or training from Midday, the man being a harsher taskmaster than even her father, but the decision to continue onwards got easier and easier, even as her mind and body failed to continue.
“Good.” Midday’s distinctive voice cut through her thoughts as she completed the last of his stretching exercises, ones she’d been taught on the second day when her muscles had been sorest. Valeri hated that she felt a spark of pride at the affirmation, the simple word being all she’d ever gotten when she’d performed to Midday’s arbitrary standard.
“Stand.” Midday commanded brusquely, and Valeri promptly did so, “We’re going to learn something new today, both of us.” The short ‘man’ looked at her piercingly, seeking her response.
“What are we learning?” She asked hesitantly. Valeri had come to terms with the fact that Midday was probably younger than her over the past days, his voice being so immature sounding at points that it was hard to deny. Though she didn’t say so, or let it change the way she looked at him.
“You’re going to learn to wield something other than the thin hunk of junk you brought last time.” Midday eyed her as the conflicted expression bubble to the surface of her face. Valeri loved using the rapier, it had been one of the only physical releases she’d had since childhood, not including dancing, which was more of a chore for the woman.
Midday turned his travellers’ cloak that he’d laid on the ground and lifted it, pulling an exceptionally large sword from underneath. The entire cloak shifted as he pulled the oversized sword from underneath it, its full length only barely able to be hidden by the heavy cloak.
The blade was long and slightly wider than what she’d seen warriors carry. Its entire length was actually the majority of both Midday’s and her own height, though not overly large like she’d seen in depictions of legendary warriors.
However, the blade’s length wasn’t really the interesting part, but just how wide it was. Valeri was sure that the weight of it was considerable, though Midday made it look like a twig he’d picked up from the ground on a whim.
“I picked this up from someone I trust,” Midday thought for a second, “or a friend of someone I trust. Regardless, this is a blade called a claymore, although slightly edited to more benefit your unique situation.” Midday walked over close, flipping the blade so that he was holding it backhand, the long and slender handle extended towards her. Valeri looked from him and back to the blade, only taking its handle after a few seconds of hesitation.
As soon as Midday let go of the blade, it felt as if the object had gained three times its weight. While the blade wasn’t overly long, it was heavy, it almost felt like it should be longer rather than wider as it was.
Even as the weight of the blade settled in her hands, she found that she could hold it comfortably, enough that it wasn’t going to significantly impede her if she tried to swing it. She took her first swing of the blade, and she found that her judgement was correct, though immediately she’d have to throw out almost everything she’d learned for wielding a rapier.
“Seems like you can handle it just fine, then.” Midday said, unsurprised.
“How heavy is it?” She asked curiously, swinging it a few more times as she tested a few hastily put together stances she half recalled from lessons and books. Midday gave her an amused look, eyebrow raised.
“Can you wield it or not?” She growled at the challenge, making the man laugh harshly—something he’d been doing more of in recent days.
“Better than you could!” She said hot-headedly, immediately regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth.
“Better than me?” Midday said, a light glow of gold swirling in his bright green eyes. “Put your money where your mouth is then. Show me what you’ve got.” He stepped in front of her menacingly, crossing his sun-kissed arms in front of his chest. From this close Valeri could see the muscle definition on the man, highly trained muscles writhing underneath his shirt and skin with every movement.
Valeri had made a challenge, and Midday wouldn’t let her back out of it. A constant theme in their days. The woman grimaced as she nodded, getting herself into a long ready stance and preparing the blade, holding it vertical to her body where the blade towered up past her cheek and above her head.
And without warning, it was on. She desperately tried to swing the heavy blade as fast as she could, but as soon as she jumped into motion, the stance crumbled underneath her inexperience with a blade easily ten times the weight of the rapier.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Midday watched the blade move through the air, almost like you’d watch a snail move across the leaf of a plant, mockingly letting the blade near to his neck and only then bursting into motion, his fist crashing into the flat of the approaching blade and ripping it from Valeri’s hands, launching it into the air magnificently. Midday catching the heavy thing with one hand on the way down was only insult to injury.
“Disappointing.” He said in the usual tone. Valeri wanted to go and find a sufficiently sized rock to go bang her head against, but Midday didn’t give her the chance. With a woosh, the blade was sitting just millimetres from her neck, her throat bobbing with an uncontrollable gulp.
“However, I’m cheating. This blade is too light for me, and will be too light for you very soon, thus the lack of accoutrements.” He pulled the blade from her neck and looked into the distance pensively for a moment, then another. She turned to look across the seemingly empty plains and found nothing, but when she turned back to face Midday, he was smiling underneath his metal mask.
“What are you even smiling at?” She asked, bewildered by the strange actions, but Midday just waved a hand at her dismissively.
“Oh nothing, just a ghost in the wind.” He turned back to her fully, his eyes flashing predatorily, “Time to get back to training, you.”
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Valeri stumbled home without use of a horse, a punishment for the loss of a bet she’d made in a rage over something stupid on the second or third day. Without the rage powering her idiocy, Valeri regretted everything. Thankfully, she’d slowly stopped making the rash decisions, despite her outburst only hours earlier.
The one good thing about returning home on foot was that she had some time to think, in between her training and sleeping, or doing some other necessary task. It let her think on all sorts of topics, but still mostly consisting of Midday, Maximilian, and training.
Today was a little different though. In that morning she’d found a letter from one of her closer socialite friends, contacting her after she’d had Yeram reject any events for the past days. The letter wasn’t anything special, but when it came to sending a letter, there was a whole lot of subtext that could be jammed into the mere act of sending one, let alone what existed between the lines on the parchment itself.
The letter was a simple check in, the contents of which was fairly sparse and lacking any interesting information at all, as was normal for a probing message like this. The message was less about what was in it, and more about the reason it was sent in the first place.
Valeri hadn’t been to any social events for an entire week, not even doing simple things to maintain presence like going to a restaurant, or even somewhere like the Brightspark like she was before. This wasn’t exactly usual, but it couldn’t be called outlandish by any means. But the circumstances of her departure from the Brightspark almost two weeks ago had certainly circulated by this point. It was too juicy a piece of gossip to pass up.
Socially, she was making a grievous mistake by not going to reaffirm her presence within her circles. The particular ‘friend’ who had sent the letter was the first to reach out and was searching for her weakness. They had been gunning for her position within the social hierarchy for months at this point, and Valeri was about ready to slap the girl for it before Maximilian showed up and upended her daily life.
In short, Valeri was committing social suicide, and was haemorrhaging political power by the minute, but couldn’t bring herself to truly care. She had never really cared about all that, she was simply good at it.
Valeri arrived home, giving Uaele a quick greeting as she opened the service door to let her in, and then declining any need for treatment, having been granted a surprising lack of wounds during training. Valeri passed down the hallway, turning corners and taking shortcuts within the labyrinthian tunnels of the service passages she’d barely known even a week ago.
Before long, she’d found herself walking from a slightly obscured door and into a long marble hallway that was less than a thirty second walk from her room. She set her sights down the hallway, only to be caught off guard by a slightly greying man in a tightly tailored butler’s attire, shocking her enough that she needed to close her eyes to recalibrate for a moment.
“Good evening, Miss Ephars.” The humble voice intoned tacitly.
“Courts, Yeram!” She said, surprised enough to swear so grandly, “What’s with you and appearing out of nowhere?” While the man made no overt facial expressions, as was his professionalism, she’d swear that the sides of his lips turned upwards at her distress.
“You merely do not look hard enough. I was standing here the entire time, Miss.” She glared at the man in his deceivingly dull looking brown eyes.
“Well, if you’re spooking me in the dark of night, you better have something interesting to tell me!” She declared, crossing her arms with an air of haughtiness, most of which was an act of self-amusement. Though, when Valeri turned her eyes back to the pale-skinned, middle-aged butler, she saw a more serious face than she’d expected.
“I believe, Miss, that you should discontinue your training with this Midday character.” Valeri recoiled from the words. He’d never been so forwards with his opinion before, not so much as to offer an actual opinion. Yeram had always restricted himself to casual advice or, on the rare occasion, a light warning. Much of which had been advice she’d either followed or regretted ignoring.
Yet never something prefaced with ‘I believe’.
“Why?” She asked simply, watching the man’s face attentively. His expression was stone cold, a constant frustration of hers throughout her youth to now.
“I believe that Maximilian you met, and this Midday character who is training you, have ulterior motives. Potentially disastrous ones for yourself, your family, and possibly Crossroads as a whole.” Valeri’s eyes narrowed at the vague answer she’d been given.
“Of course, they have ulterior motives, Yeram.” She said coolly, her tone synchronising in seriousness with her attendant’s, “The question is what those motives are.” The attendant was silent for a long while, merely reciprocating the gaze that they were locked in. After a time, Yeram seemed to decide something, his eyes warming slightly.
“I have been collecting information on Maximilian Avenforth, past the original stopping point you gave me.” She clenched her jaw slightly. He was admitting that he had been going behind her back, directly betraying orders, though she didn’t say a word.
“While you have been extricated from the social circles during your training, this Maximilian has been busy. Both in the high districts and the… less savoury circles. I believe he is taking advantage of the power vacuum that you have created by going no contact and using the notoriety of being the last to truly talk to you.”
“And how is he using that power,” she said, her mind brining the question past her lips on instinct, “because right at this moment, I’m not sure that I entirely care unless he’s doing something completely uncouth.” She spat the words with a little more vigour than she would have if she’d been entirely clear headed, but the slight betrayal of Yeram’s had been enough to push a little bit of heat into the words. Yeram didn’t speak for a moment, bowing his head deeply in a statuesque apology.
“I believe that he is trying to contact a Shadow Walker, Lady Ephars.”