Chapter 9
Chapter 9
“I was going to stop,” Winton told old Thomas. “You needn’t interfere.”
“Of course, my lord,” Thomas said, stepping out of their way once he’d ascertained that Lucan was lucid.
Lucan on his part was excited more than anything. Perhaps he’d finally be able to surprise his father with something good. He now had some hope for this spar as well. “Let’s continue,” he said, this time having his own motivation to begin the fight.
Winton grinned, stepping forward with his sword extended. “Improved a skill, did you, cousin?” he said. “I suppose you should thank me.”
I’ll thank you in the way you ought to be thanked, Lucan thought, keeping his guard up and circling his opponent slowly.
Winton showed surprising wisdom in staying cautious himself, not giving in to the temptation of pressing the attack again. Lucan could see his attention sharply focused on him, waiting for the smallest twitch of a muscle.
So Lucan gave it to him, he twitched a muscle and moved a sword. His feint was well-received as Winton moved in appropriate form to defend against an imaginary attack.
Lucan stepped in to take advantage, circling the air with his blade to turn his feint into a strike from another direction. Alarmed but not panicked, his opponent retracted his sword and took a step forward of his own, bringing them into close quarters, too close. Lucan’s sword wouldn’t be able to deliver a proper strike, and it gave Winton the ability to move his sword with a turn of his body, taking Lucan’s slash on the strong of his sword.
This close, combatants would have normally tried to draw their daggers and finish the deed before their opponent could do the same, or perhaps use their heavy gauntlets as a makeshift hammer to disorient their enemy.
In this case, both he and his cousin had to do with what was more reasonable. They both took a hand off their hilts, attempting to punch the other. In the end, their hands got entangled in a miniature wrestling match. Seeing no recourse in this, Lucan tried to maneuver his blade into a position appropriate for a slicing cut. But Winton surprised him with a kick to the gut, throwing him backwards, barely keeping himself on his feet.
This chapter upload first at NovelUsb.Com
Lucan raised his guard even as he felt a ball of pain in his gut. The pain receded quickly as his attention stayed on his cousin, who was looking for an opening to exploit. He tested Lucan’s defenses with a string of light strikes which he deflected with some difficulty.
Winton, smelling weakness, took small steps forward as his strikes became heavier and faster. Again, the difference of strength began to show itself as Lucan took the strikes on his blade, feeling the reverberations through his arms. There was no threat of his cousin breaking through a block or pushing away a parry, but it was making him wearier and wearier as their fight continued
Lucan debated using his new skill but remembered that he only had one use for the whole day. He’d have to use it at a decisive moment, which was probably not that far.
In an attempt to make the best use of his strength, Winton stepped a little closer to get better leverage for his superior Physique, delivering heavy strikes easily.
Lucan found himself having it worse and worse, so he decided to surprise his cousin at an opportune moment, activating his Star.
An imaginary star that he could feel as though he could see it with his eyes came into being on the ground around him. Lucan instantly picked the point of the star closest to his opponent, moving into the latter’s guard in a supernaturally quick lope.
His cousin reacted faster than he could’ve expected, liberating one hand from the hilt of his sword and blocking Lucan’s fisted hands which were wrapped around the hilt, stopping him from delivering a winning strike.
Knowing that a counter-strike was on its way from Winton’s own sword, Lucan decided to extract himself from this entanglement by moving back to the center of the Star. He leaped backwards with the same speed he’d moved forward.
But Winton surprised him by keeping a strong grip on his hand, forcing Lucan to pull his cousin back with him, which nullified the effectiveness of his retreat. The pull had forced one of Winton’s feet to overextend forward to cover the distance, which meant he had to let go of Lucan’s hand to be able to put proper force and speed into his sword for the coming decisive strike. As soon as Winton committed to the strike, Lucan chose the point of the Star farthest back to leap to, taking himself out of his opponent’s blade range. At the same time, he prepared a thrust, pulling his blade back into the proper motion.
Once Winton had finished his failed slash, Lucan would leap back to the center of the Star instantly, and deliver a quick thrust. Of course, Lucan wouldn’t go through with it. He would stop at the last moment, close enough to prove a victory.
At that moment, Lucan saw it in Winton’s eyes, the realization. He knew what was about to happen. He’d probably seen enough of his skill to have an idea of what was possible now. Lucan saw the disbelief in his cousin’s eyes, then the sudden decisiveness that set into them.
But it was too late.
Before Winton’s slash was halfway through its arc, it lit up, and a blade of light extended from the tip of his sword, extending its length, just enough to cut Lucan’s throat. With his own sword prepared for a thrust, Lucan had no time to react to the sudden use of the skill and realized that he was the one that was about to lose. As the blade of light cut towards his neck, growing closer and closer, Thomas suddenly appeared between them again, holding Winton’s wrist and stopping the sword’s motion more than a hand’s width away from Lucan’s neck. He let go as soon as Winton lost his momentum.
Lucan’s second cousin retracted his sword, rebalancing himself. “I would have stopped.” He glared at Thomas, panting.
“Of course, my lord.”
Winton snorted and sheathed his sword. “It’s my win.” He turned around and started walking back towards the keep’s entrance. Then he stopped suddenly, glancing back. “You know, cousin, it’s customary for the host to keep their guest company. Is that not written in your books?”
Lucan scowled, sheathing his own sword in shame. He’d lost in mock combat, and now he was being thrashed in mock courtesy too. He hurried to catch up to Winton, stepping up beside him and joining him on his walk.
His cousin stopped when they came upon the palisade’s gate. The downward slope from here made the bailey and some of the farmland in the distance visible.
Winton chuckled. “Even if you did become Lords. What would you Lord over? Two peasants and a cow?” He kept his mirth as he looked at Lucan. “Just something to ponder, cousin.”
Lucan grudgingly pondered it as he noticed new words in his vision.
Your Swordsmanship has leveled up.
…
That afternoon, Lucan and his father bid farewell to Lord Zesh and his unpleasant son. The Lord had gratefully refused the offer to spend the night in their keep, blaming urgent duties at home.
As Lucan stood with his father on the road near the Elder Sapling, seeing their relatives off, he found his eyes roaming over the relatively lacking farmlands around him, then his eyes turned to their humble bailey, small and ringed by a simple wooden palisade.
Perhaps he could do better than this. His father had been insistent that he begin assuming his responsibilities.
Fine, he would. But he wouldn’t be content with his lot.