Authors: AC Cobble
“What
do you mean? Why would they have any reason to want to know about me?”
“You
are a simple boy from Farview.”
Ben
glanced at Saala out of the corner of his eye.
“I
didn’t mean that to sound bad,” Saala sighed. “I mean that your motives for
being here in Whitehall are simple. You are here for your friend Meghan.
Maybe you are here because you’re enjoying a bit of an adventure. But that is
it. These people in this place, they are so used to intrigue that they can’t
understand you are what you seem.”
“I
don’t think so Saala. I’ve spent nearly all of the last four days with these
guardsmen. They’ve heard my story, they know who I am.”
“Hearing
isn’t always believing Ben. You are travelling with the Princess of Issen, a
Mage of the Sanctuary and me, a Blademaster. We show up unannounced and claim
we are just passing through but now two of our companions are members of King
Argren’s Conclave. That is bound to raise some eyebrows. I’m sure King Argren
is finding out what he wants to know directly from Lady Amelie and Lady Towaal,
but this city is packed full of people with political ambition right now. With
tensions rising between the Alliance and the Coalition and now the apparent
involvement by the Sanctuary, well, certain information has value in that
environment. If the Sanctuary is going to lean towards one side or the other
it could make a big difference in the conflict.”
“But
that’s just ridiculous!” argued Ben. “Lady Towaal wasn’t even invited to this
Conclave, was she?”
Saala
laid a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “No, I don’t think she was – Argren certainly
wasn’t expecting her at least. Maybe it’s just a coincidence Lady Towaal has
been pressing to travel so hard and we happened to arrive right before the
biggest political council this half of the continent has seen in years. Now
that we’re here of course it makes sense to wait for over a week. Could be
Lady Towaal is just lucky she happened to be travelling with someone who was
invited. What do you think, is it luck or design?”
They
continued up the damp streets quietly. Ben was mulling over what Saala had
said. When put like that, it seemed an awfully large jump to write it off as
mere coincidence. But if it wasn’t, what would motivate the Ladies? Amelie’s
father was actually invited to this thing, so she would have no reason for
subterfuge. And even though she wasn’t invited according to Saala, King Argren
had certainly not turned Towaal away. Travelling all of the way to Issen and
back with Amelie in tow seemed like an awfully lot of work and timing just to
get into a meeting. Saala worked for Amelie, he had to know something.
“If
you’re worried about sharing some sort of secret information with Seth and the
other guards, then why are you letting me talk to them? You’ve heard me, I’ve
been telling them everything I know.”
“Precisely
Ben, you’ve been telling them what you know. Of course, you can’t tell them
things you don’t know. I can assure you that Lady Amelie is not here under
some false pretense. I’ve been with her family for years now, long before this
journey was planned and I know it wasn’t planned in anticipation of this
event. She would tell me if she was playing a deeper game. But Towaal, I only
met her days before we left Issen. She arrived early and pressed us to leave
quickly. I don’t know what she is up to, but there are secrets there. I do
not tell you this to concern you. I don’t think any of these plans directly
involve you. I am just trying to explain why I have been reclusive towards the
guardsmen. Keep being friendly with them if you like, it makes no matter to
me. Lady Amelie or Lady Towaal would have already stopped you if they were
concerned. Just be aware, not everything is always as it seems.”
The
conversation cut off as they entered the Citadel and headed towards their
rooms. The now friendly nods from the guardsmen and glances from the service
staff had taken on a new meaning to Ben and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to
shake the suspicious seeds that Saala planted. He was so lost in thought that
he didn’t notice a door swing open and plowed straight into the man exiting it.
Startled,
Ben sprawled backwards onto the stone floor and the man quickly spun around.
Saala
snorted loudly when they saw who it was. A shocked looking Rhys starred down
at Ben and exclaimed, “oh damn! You scared the hell out of me. I thought you
were…”
Rhys
broke off as another person darted out of the doorway. It was an attractive
woman with disheveled hair and smeared makeup. She paused to stare daggers at Ben
and Saala before turning up her nose and sweeping past them down the hall. Ben
watched and half expected her to break into a run before she got to the nearest
intersection where she glanced both ways then hurried down one without looking
back at the three men.
Rhys
reached one hand down and hauled Ben to his feet. He was grinning ear to ear
and said, “well, how was your night?”
The
next morning Ben hit the practice field early. The grass was still damp with
morning dew and most of the new guardsmen Ben trained with had not arrived
yet. A few who had were clustered near the armory sipping steaming cups of
kaf.
Ben
nodded to a few of the men he had seen before and went to the racks where the
practice weapons were stored. He planned to run through some of the sword
forms to get warmed up before his normal sparring partners arrived. Saala
constantly emphasized the importance of stretching, warm ups and warm downs
before, during and after practice. It was another thing Saala felt the guards
didn’t do well. He said that if you didn’t stretch, it would leave you sore,
tight and useless when a real fight broke out.
As
Ben was working his way through a complicated series of strokes that Saala had
taught him, he saw a shape out of the corner of his eye and spun around into a
fighting stance.
“Ha!”
shouted a large keg shaped man. “I like it. I wish some of my boys had half
your vigor. This early in the morning they’re all still in the barracks paying
for the celebration the night before. It’s like they think war only breaks out
in the afternoon after half a roast chicken and pint of ale down at Meggy’s.”
The
man was impossible to miss around the practice yard. Both because of his
imposing size and where ever he walked there was always a flurry of activity in
his wake.
“Yes
sir, Master Brinn. I’m still new to the sword so I, uh, need the practice,”
replied Ben clumsily.
“Right.
Maybe so. But you don’t look new to me. Must be getting good training from
those fellows you’re with.” He nodded towards Saala who was strolling into the
practice yard. “A Blademaster, am I right?”
Ben
winced, after his talk with Saala last night he was sensitive to questions.
“Yes sir, I’ve been training with my companions.” He wasn’t sure where this
was going or how to deal with it so diversion seemed like the safe option.
“I’ve really enjoyed sparring with your men sir. They’ve taught me a lot.”
“Good,
good. Care to show me?” Master Brinn stripped off his shirt and lifted a
heavy looking two handed practice sword from the rack and gave it a few
twirls. He was shaggy as a bear and at first glance he looked stocky, but Ben
could see heavy muscle cording as he swung the practice sword.
Ben
nervously backed up bringing his own sword up, “uh, sir, don’t you want some
training armor?”
Brinn
grinned widely, “you saying I’ll need it?”
Ben
was saved from answering by Saala appearing at his side. “Just a few words of
encouragement for my pupil,” he told Brinn with a wink.
In
Ben’s ear he whispered, “he’s strong, obviously, but be prepared for him to be
fast too. And he’s not going to fall for any of the little tricks you’ve been
using on his guardsmen. This is an experienced fighter, so assume he knows the
same forms you do plus many more. Your speed and agility are your best
friends. Try to stay away from direct engagement because that sword of his is
going to put a hurt on you if he makes solid contact. But first, you need to
shake him up. He’s used to ruling this yard and you need to show him you’re
not afraid. Be aggressive and go on the attack. Hopefully you shake him up a
bit then let him wear himself out.”
Saala
shoved Ben forward and moved off to the side. Immediately, Brinn lunged and
launched a probing jab towards Ben’s midsection which Ben avoided by back
pedaling. Ben danced a few steps to Brinn’s offhand but the Master of Arms
easily pivoted to face him. Before his opponent settled, Ben started one of
the forms that the guardsmen seemed to favor and as he expected, Brinn raised
his sword in defense. Instead of completing with a high swing like he had seen
Seth do numerous times now, Ben dropped to one knee and slashed down at Brinn’s
legs. The Master of Arms was caught flat footed and took a solid strike on his
left leg before lurching backwards. Ben surged forward off his knee and
instead of going for a body shot he took a swipe at Brinn’s left arm slapping
his practice blade hard against the exposed skin. The Master of Arms grunted
in pain as he lost his grip with one hand and tried to spin out of the way.
Seeing
his opening, Ben reversed his swing and leaned in, feeling the satisfying tug
of his weapon dragging across the other man’s chest. His elation was short
lived though as the Master of Arms continued his spin then dropped low like Ben
had and swept his two handed sword into Ben’s legs.
Ben’s
feet were thrown out from under him with the impact and he crashed hard onto
the dew damp ground. He tried to roll away but was tangled by his sword and
Brinn slammed a knee down hard onto his chest which was painful even through
the padded practice armor. Brinn tapped a finger on Ben’s forehead then the
big man reached down and grabbed him by the shoulder, hauling him to his feet
and roaring with laughter.
By
now, everyone at the practice yard was watching the matchup. “Got your breath?”
asked Brinn.
Ben
nodded and quickly fell back into a defensive posture as the bear of a man
charged towards him. This time Ben tried to slide out of the way and take the
offensive again but Brinn was ready and smacked Ben’s weapon away hard. To his
shame, Ben felt the sword fly out of his grip for the first time since his
early days training on the road with Saala.
Ben
dove towards the dropped sword and rolled to his feet but to his surprise, the
Master of Arms let him up before advancing again. The next round, Ben managed
to hold onto his sword but wasn’t able to find an opening in Brinn’s defense. Ben
took several strikes but none were as powerful as the first couple and he was
always given time to recover. Ben realized the Master of Arms was testing his
skills and wasn’t interested in causing harm or holding a grudge from the first
volley. Ben relaxed into the rhythm of the back and forth and started making a
decent show for himself but still was unable to replicate his earlier success
and make contact with Brinn.
After
half a bell, Ben was huffing and puffing but the Master of Arms didn’t seem
worn down at all. The man had gone silent, but he was relentless, constantly
pressing and testing his attack. Ben’s arms were sagging and before long he
slipped allowing Brinn to slide a strike through which landed heavily on his
shoulder sending Ben flopping onto the dirt again.
Brinn
leaned on his two-hander and reached down to haul Ben up again. “Let’s take a
break son and get something to eat. I’ve had enough of a workout today.”
Ben
grimaced. Brinn’s workout was at the expense of Ben’s body. Even through the
padded practice armor Ben had felt some blows that would leave nasty bruises.
Brinn
waved over Saala who had been nearby watching and called for one of his
guardsmen to bring bread, cheese, kaf and water. When Saala arrived, Brinn
nodded appreciatively and said, “you’ve trained this one well. Give him a few
more months and he’ll be one of the best here.” He looked over at Ben, “you
shocked me son. I don’t know the last time I’ve had a trainee put a blade on
me.”
“I
may have made some contact,” replied Ben, “but I couldn’t finish it. You were
back on me and I was on the ground before I knew what happened. I never made
contact again after that first series.”
“Ah,
I did get you on the ground and I did manage to redeem myself. I always say
it’s how you finish the fight, but remember, in a real fight, if those first
few swings are good ones then you will finish it. It doesn’t much matter what
happens after.”
That
afternoon, Rhys found Ben relaxing in a small courtyard near their rooms. “No
more time on the tourney field huh? I hear you did pretty well with the Master
of Arms of this place, if he can even be called that. More like Master of
Administering the Arms. Still, the story is the man knows his way around a
blade. They say he earned that job by putting down some ugly rebellions a few
years back.”
“He
seemed pretty good to me.”
“Ha,
there is good and there is good. Swinging sticks at your drinking buddy before
you go bed each other’s sisters isn’t being good with a sword, no matter how
nice your uniform looks when you’re doing all that drilling and marching.”