The Four Swords

Chapter 33: Training The Clan

I helped Captain Gunnar up from the ground. "Well met, Sir Jacobson. A good reminder to keep light on my toes." He graciously accepted my hand and was on his feet before he finished talking. I never thought I would beat a Captain in a sword fight.

"Thank you," I awkwardly responded. I had no confidence that it was an appropriate response. The flighty emotion of victory passed over me. It would not last long since I know my limitations. That win was pure luck.

My uncle and father shared an expression that was unreadable to me. What did that mean? Neither of them said anything to us for a moment.

"Everyone needs to remember their stances. Know the terrain. It can keep you alive, or it can work against you," My uncle called out, reminding everyone who was training and not just us.

"Change partners!" My father yelled.

I was met with a new opponent. I had no recollection of meeting the scrappy fellow before me. That did not keep the man from knowing me on sight.

"Good morning, Sir Jacobson. It looks like I might have the honor of facing you next." The man bowed. His shaggy hair fell into his eyes as he gave a slight bow. I was not royal yet. It seemed out of place.

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I thought for a moment. "The honor is mine." It was uncomfortable coming from my mouth but I think that is what Gavin would say.

The sparring began with us both waiting for the first strike. I always felt that the first strike told me quite a bit about who I faced and I did not like to tip my hand too early.

Finally his left foot came forward, in an unorthodox and unsteady stance. Toe facing inward and ankle exposed, he looked like he could easily be knocked over. I blocked his advance quickly.

What if it was not that I was good at sword fighting? What if it was just that everyone else is just much worse than me? That thought made my stomach turn. We were not safe! Ensis might fall under my watch if that is the case.

We continued in our standoff dance where I refused to strike. I wanted to see his stance again. Maybe there was something to it that I missed. It took time, but he struck again. Wielding his sword overhead with his foot in that same strange stance. I blocked with more force than I thought I had. His sword flew from his hands, landing safely on the ground.

"Wow, Sir Jacobson! No wonder Princess Alina wants you by her side with such skill!" His tone was too enthused, too cheery for just being beaten by a teenager who was not considered masterful in this craft.

My uncle and father exchanged the same look followed by a nod in unison. It hit me. These men were losing on purpose to gain favor with me. That's why my father wanted me here today. It was a test. I'm not sure if it was more of a test for me or for the men. Either way I think we both were failing.

My failure was the fact that Captain Gunnar had fooled me so easily. I thought I had better judgment in discerning social climbers. These men failed by thinking that winning would stroke my ego enough to grant them a favorable position.

I wish these two fights had been the embarrassment for me I thought they were going to be. That would be less shameful. I would much rather follow a king who is willing to put in hard work than one that is naturally talented.

I wonder if either my father or uncle were going to fill me in on what they observed or if it was simply up to me to figure all of this out. They should know better. I rarely understand things unless they are clearly spelled out. That fact might have been the most humiliating of all.

"Thank you for the match," I muttered in the most pleasant tone my thoughts would allow. The other matches were still going. He let me defeat him far too quickly. He just wanted a break from training.

"Change partners!" My father yelled with a bite in his voice. Our clansmen were not making him proud.

A burly man with an unkempt beard approached me. He did not look even a little familiar. He towered over me by at least a foot. If he intended on throwing our match, it would be the performance of a lifetime.

"Good morning. I am Benate from the clan of Bear. Who do I have the pleasure of sparring with?" Nice touch, pretending he didn't know me. At least he introduced himself so that I could remember his name later.

"Sir Jacobson of the clan of Stag," my flat tone was all I could manage. All this theatrical groveling was making me taciturn.

His eyes gleamed with acknowledgment. He knew who I was. He said nothing but simply nodded, sizing me up from head to toe.

We began the same type of dance that I already performed twice today. I felt like a player on a stage of a work where everyone knows the ending. I was simply entertainment and nothing more.

I did not wait long for Benate to take advantage of my timid methods. He started striking and did not let up. I blocked blow after blow from left to right. I could feel my feet falling into a retreating motion. I was losing ground. The need to go on the offensive grew.

I saw a small opening and took it. I swiftly jabbed toward his left side. I had taken the bait. He left that open on purpose. He blocked with the force of his whole body as he spun into the motion.

I stumbled but quickly regained my footing, with the trade off being even more lost ground. His barrage of hits continued. I started looking for another method. Surely I was missing something. I took a deep breath to focus.

From his swings, I could see he favored his right side. This is why I had tried to strike the left. Maybe his right side was the key to this puzzle. For the first time today, I was actually training.