Lance
“Those silver dragon riders need to be brought in line.” I turned to see some of the junior officers passing by. They happened to be walking towards the training grounds, which was exactly where I was supposed to be to teach my first class, so I fell in behind their group. “Sitting with the women rather than in their assigned place,” the man spluttered. My hand slid to my sword hilt. “Saying they were going to protect that plump girl?—”
“Lady Fern.” The correction just came out, and that had the riders turning to face me. “That… girl’s name is Lady Fern.”
“Right, of course.” I watched their eyes go wide and then when they saw the brand new insignias I wore on the uniform that had found itself on my doorstep last night, their hands snapped up in a salute. “Apologies, Lieutenant.”
They stared at me expectantly and that’s when I remembered I needed to salute back, lest they be left standing there, permanently at attention. Gods, it felt like a million years since I had learned about rider protocol.
“You brought the lady to the keep?” one of the other officers asked. “If she’s under your protection, then you need to knowthose blaggards seem to feel like they have a claim to this Lady Fern.” He stepped closer. “It falls to us riders to ensure the ladies are safe within the keep.”
The urge to snap that I had this covered was overwhelming, but I smiled instead.
“Don’t worry, lads. I’ll make sure the message is communicated loud and clear.” The bells started ringing again, marking an end to the brief break between classes. “But right now I’ve got a class.”
“Sir.”
The way they snapped to attention as I passed almost had me shaking my head, but I saluted back and moved on, walking down a very familiar hall.
Soren was our drill sergeant when I was first admitted to the corp. I half expected the bastard to be barking orders at cadets as I stepped into the training room. Instead, I was greeted by creaking floorboards, a rack of wooden swords, and the faint smell of stale sweat. I didn’t get to enjoy that for long. Young men came streaming in through the doors, some talking excitedly to their friends as they came to stand in the middle of the room.
I knew exactly what they were feeling. Some were high-born lads, and they were showing off the swords their fathers had spent good gold on to their friends. Others watched this take place, barely suppressing the envy in their gaze. They didn’t realise what a great equaliser the corp was, but they were about to.
“Good morning.” I stepped forward, hands behind my back, feeling the ghost of my old teacher dogging my steps, despite the fact Soren was alive and well and living it up in the country. “I assume you’re all here for introductory lessons in swordplay?” A low murmur of assent had me nodding. “Well, first things first…”
I was about to tell them that they were going to put those fine swords away, when the last two students joined us. Strolling in through the door like they owned the place were two of thesilver riders. Lorien, that was the one with the rakish grin, but it was Kael I focussed on. When he came to a stop just short of the group, his comrade did the same. One eyebrow cocked upwards, and I remembered exactly what the prick had said to me the other day. That I wouldn’t draw a blade on him or his friends again, not without shedding my own blood in return.
We’d see about that.
I glanced back at the group, ignoring Kael’s arrogant smirk. Whatever you pay attention to grows larger, that’s what I’d learned from my father, so I’d make the bastard work to get a reaction from me.
“We need to put our swords away.” There was a bit of rumbling at that. “Every one has walked into this classroom with different levels of skill. To ensure you walk out of it, we train using wooden swords.” I nodded to the rack on the left hand side of the room. “It’s what I trained with when I was a cadet here and you’ll do the same.”
History, experience, that’s what I had in spades and I used it now to get people moving.
“Wooden swords?” As everyone else moved to do as I said, Kael came closer. “When Barry taught us the sword, we used cold steel, didn’t he, Lorien?”
“Damn right,” the other man said.
“Then this Barry didn’t care much for the two of you.” My arms crossed my chest. “A steel blade, even a blunt one, can cause permanent injury in the hands of the inexperienced, even death.” I shook my head slowly. “Maybe that was his aim.” Kael’s brows drew down and his expression grew thunderous, which just made me smile. “But it’s not mine, so either hang up your swords and grab a wooden one, or don’t. You won’t stay in my class if you can’t follow a simple instruction.”
I didn’t wait for an answer. Kael had to be someone who always wanted the last word, but that didn’t mean I had to give it to him. With a quick glance around the classroom I saw all the other students were doing as they were told.
And eventually Kael and Lorien did the same.
Plucking my own wooden sword off the wall, I felt a wave of nostalgia. The thrill of excitement I’d felt on my first day of sword practise. The moment when Soren had recognised me as my father’s son. It felt like that was eons ago, when it was only five years. But as I felt the weight of the sword, twisting my wrist with a few experimental blows, what I needed to do came back to me. Standing at the front of the classroom, I set my sword on its tip, pressing it into the floorboards and saw most of the others doing the same.
“If you grew up in Wyrmpeak, you would’ve heard of my father. Brand Axton…” Murmurs went up around the classroom and the sidelong looks and muttered comments made clear that was many of the students. “Was a great swordsman and perhaps some of you are already familiar with his teachings.” I raised my sword, holding it out straight. “By the end of this lesson, all of you will have learned the basics.”
My fingers flexed around the hilt and I ensured I was holding it somewhat loosely, just like Da taught me.
“To begin, we start with grip.” Someone snorted at that, but I forged on. “Seems like a basic thing, something we can take for granted, but that isn’t necessarily true. The proper grip on a sword hilt is the foundation on which all other skills are built.”
I could almost hear my father’s voice inside my head, lecturing me on the exact same thing.
“Grip it too tight and you’re forcing your muscles to work that much harder during the entire fight and it affects your ability to respond to your opponent swiftly. Your fingers should be like this.” I demonstrated with my free hand, then showed how this worked on the hilt of the training sword. “Try it and I’ll walk around to see if you’ve got it.”
Why did it feel so right to tread the training boards? I nodded to the quick studies whose grip was near perfect, reaching over to correct some of the others. Students looked up as I passed by, some asking questions for further clarification, only to understand what they were doing wrong shortly after.The first lesson seemed well received, right up until I came to stand before him.
