Andy woke up feeling fresh. He drank a few glasses of water during the previous evening, ate a well-rounded dinner with plenty of vegetables and whole grains, and went to bed fairly early.

  Yarel was away, but Noel and Pliny had spoken to him a bit during dinner. Upon learning that he was sparring for his first [combat] rank, they insisted that he rest and relax. Pliny had even set up a hammock in the yard and slept outside so that Andy wouldn’t be bothered by his snoring.

  Now, he felt great. He split his logs, stoked the fire, and had some coffee like he always did. He took some time on the porch, watching the morning mist rise off the mountainside above. Pliny was already up, but his hammock remained tied around two trees across the yard.

  Morwen came down, dressed in her full leather armor, though she did not equip her longsword as she usually did. Instead, she was carrying a bundle of clothes.

  “Heading somewhere?” Andy asked.

  “No,” Morwen said. “Just dressing appropriately for the occasion.” She unfurled a tunic, holding it up before Andy.

  It was a thick, beige, rough-spun smock with a large black dot on the chest. The shoulders, too, had black dots.

  Morwen turned it around, revealing a large black dot at the center of the back.

  “Sparring uniform?” Andy asked.

  “Exactly,” Morwen said. She tossed it to him. “They should be here in the next hour or so. After you finish your coffee, I suggest you hydrate, have something sugary, and warm up.”

  “Will do,” Andy said. He took off his tunic and replaced it with the sparring smock. It was both heavier and more comfortable than he had imagined.

  Morwen busied herself cleaning and organizing the yard. Noel and Pliny set up a table by the dormant firepit with snacks, mostly dry crackers and grapes, and a large, covered pitcher of fresh water next to an odd assortment of cups and mugs.

  Seeing all the trouble they were going to, Andy wondered what was in store. Were they trying to impress Gerran? Or Gerran’s student? Or was this just customary, like parents providing snacks to the elementary school soccer team? Either way, he found it charming.

  Andy retreated inside to the den, pouring himself a glass of water. He sipped it intermittently as he sat in an armchair. Specifically, he sat in the closest armchair to the fireplace. The fire burned to his right, and he faced the greatsword mounted on the den wall. It had become his favorite spot. The chair had just the right combination of sink and bounce, and he liked the ability to look at the weapons.

  Heavy footsteps echoed up the spiral staircase as Pliny jogged up. “They’re here, lad,” he said, grinning. “Are you ready?”

  “Oh shoot,” Andy said. “Morwen told me to eat something sweet, but I didn’t get around to it.”

  “No problem, brother,” Pliny said, holding out a small wrapper. “Take this, it’ll help you.”

  Andy took the paper wrapper and unfolded it. Inside was what looked like a protein bar.

  “Dates,” said Pliny. “Dates and cacao nibs. Eat up, quick, and chase it with some water. It’ll give you a nice jolt. Keep you alert.”

  It only took three bites to consume the bar, but it was chewy and stuck in his mouth. He drank a few sips of water, clearing his palette.

  “Nice uniform, by the way,” said Pliny. “I remember when I wore mine for my [combat] sparring, same cut, same fabric, same black dots. Funny how that works… some traditions always stay the same.”

  Andy chuckled. Pliny was reminiscing like a proud uncle. In many ways, that’s exactly what he was. Even though Andy had only known him a few days, his relationships were few: essentially just Lilly and Rowan, Morwen, Yarel, Pliny, and Noel. Of all of them, Morwen was most invested in Andy’s progress into the Fighter class, but Pliny seemed to be most eager to spend time with Andy, to show him kindness, and to teach him how to navigate this new world.

  They made their way down the staircase and out to the yard.

  Morwen spoke casually by the snack table with a towering man, very nearly seven feet tall, wearing a heavy suit of steel armor. His shoulders were broad, making his head look comparatively small, and stubble peppered his tanned face. He wore a black and white floral bandana around his forehead, not unlike the one Andy had retrieved from the cliffside earlier that week. The man carried two steel longswords strapped to his back in an X pattern.

  That must be Gerran, Andy thought. He must be extremely strong to wield two longswords. They weren’t the same size as the greatsword on the wall of the den upstairs, but they were certainly not small.

  Next to the hulking Fighter, a slender young man with pale white skin, black eyebrows, and a shaved head and face stood wearing a smock nearly identical to Andy’s, except the dots on his chest, shoulders, and back were navy blue.

  He looks like he hasn’t seen sunlight in years… hope his head doesn’t get sunburned.

  “Andy,” Morwen said, gesturing to the man in armor, “this is Gerran, owner of the Firebrand Fighting Gym, and this,” she gestured toward the fighter in the smock, “is his student Patesh.”

  Patesh nodded deeply, almost a bow. He wore a serene smile. He was about Andy’s height, but he probably weighed at least 20 pounds less. He was skinny and lanky.

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Gerran bellowed in a deep and boisterous voice. He shook Andy’s hand heartily, but without squeezing. There was no malice in his eyes, his voice, or his mannerisms. “Morwen tells me you’ve been training quickly.”

  “Yes,” Andy said, “I’ve got a great teacher.”

  “That you do,” said Gerran. “And is that Pliny over there?”

  “How do you do, Gerran,” Pliny said, waving and approaching the group for a handshake.

  “You old bastard, I haven’t seen you in nearly a year, what has the Order got you doing these days?”

  “Ah, well, Order business has been light, so I’ve been enjoying my fair share of plunder from dungeon crawls. I’ve got a zealous employer who gives me about as much work as I can handle these days.”

  “Local?” Gerran asked.

  “A bit north,” said Pliny, “the marshes near the coast. Plenty of curious ruins around the area.”

  “Ah, yes, yes. The marshes,” Gerran said. “Well that’s very good for you, Pliny. I sometimes miss my dungeon crawling days. Certainly more lucrative than a fighting gym, but I love my work and my students. Wouldn’t trade it.”

  After a brief pause in the conversation, Morwen spoke up. “Well, how about we get started?”

  Patesh stood up straight, as if he were just tuning back into the conversation.

  Morwen walked out to the center of the yard, beckoning the two combatants to come forward and join her.

  Andy approached alongside Patesh, facing him as they found their place.

  “Now, as custom dictates, as host I am responsible for reciting the rules of engagement here,” said Morwen. “This is a sparring match. It is not intended to be a fight. You are not attempting to injure your opponent, understood?”

  Andy nodded, as did his opponent.

  “This sparring match will be scored by Gerran and I. We will use our best observation and judgement, and we will mutually agree on the outcome. The winner is the first combatant to score three points. In order to score a point, your palm must make contact with a marker on your opponent’s smock, or his head. When a point is scored, you will disengage until I instruct you to begin again.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Andy looked at his opponent. This guy was aiming to be a Fighter? He didn’t look like he could pick up a longsword… And yet, the young man seemed serene, completely unbothered. And that bothered Andy.

  “Please shake hands,” said Morwen.

  Andy extended his hand, and Patesh his. They shook cordially before backing up. Andy brought his hands up to his face and began to bounce gently.

  His opponent closed his eyes and breathed deeply, raising his eyebrows as he inhaled. With a sudden exhale, Patesh’s entire demeanor changed. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes closed to slits. His jaw clenched as he tightened his fists, arms shaking.

  “Begin,” said Morwen, stepping back.

  Andy bounced on his legs. The sudden change in his opponent's demeanor threw him off. He had no idea what to expect, so he didn’t want to make the first move.

  Patesh didn’t bounce so much as shuffle, and his hands were nowhere near his face.

  Is he goading me to strike his head? Andy thought.

  Patesh leapt toward Andy, but pushed backward. It was a fake.

  Nonetheless, Andy flinched, shuffling backward and to the left.

  Damn, Andy thought. My opponent just faked me out to get information about how I’d react… and I just gave it to him. I can’t fall for that again…

  “You have to attempt to strike each other,” Gerran bellowed from the sidelines. “You’re supposed to be Fighters, right?” He said, laughing.

  Gerran was right, they couldn’t bounce around all day. Someone had to make the first move.

  Andy leapt forward, pushing his palm toward the center of his opponent’s chest.

  Patesh slapped Andy’s arm downward and stepped to the side, smacking him in the back.

  “Well done, boy!” Gerran cheered. “Excellent defensive technique! Just as we drilled!”

  “One point for Patesh,” Morwen said. “Disengage and regroup.”

  His opponent had gotten the better of him simply by slapping his arm down and sidestepping him… not unlike the maneuver Morwen had used against him yesterday.

  Damn… I can’t repeat yesterday’s mistakes.

  “Ready? Begin,” Morwen said.

  Patesh rushed toward Andy.

  Unexpected, Andy thought as he tried to interpret his opponent’s movements without overreacting. Patesh rushed forward and Andy dropped to his now-familiar defensive posture.

  Then, Patesh leapt into the air. And it wasn’t a small jump. He practically flew right over Andy’s head, landing behind him.

  His opponent’s vertical jump left Andy astonished, but he tried to keep his cool. Before he could turn around, Andy heard Patesh’s feet hit the ground to his left rear. He heard the snapping of the uniform as Patesh threw a palm toward his left shoulder.

  Andy reacted without hesitation. He dropped down and rolled to the right, scrambling to get up.

  “Nice move!” Morwen said.

  “Great work, kid!” Pliny said.

  He must be a dancer, Andy thought. That would explain his skinniness… he doesn’t need much muscle. He focuses on dexterity, not strength.

  When Andy rose to his feet and turned around, his opponent’s face was beet red. The young man was practically seething.

  “Don’t lose your form,” Gerran said from the sidelines.

  Patesh lunged forward at Andy, growling as he thrust his palm straight toward Andy’s chest. He wore rage on his face.

  Andy stepped to the side, smacking Patesh’s forearm down and slapping him on the back as he stumbled forward.

  “One point for Andy,” said Morwen. “Disengage and regroup.”

  Andy nearly burst out laughing but controlled himself. It was ironic, he had used the exact same move that his opponent had used prior. It was as if they had traded places.

  “You’re falling off your form,” Gerran said.

  “I know!” Patesh barked. The calm demeanor he had was now completely gone as he growled angrily to himself.

  Is he about to have a mental breakdown?

  Andy looked toward Morwen with a furrowed brow, unsure of how to interpret his opponent’s insolence toward his teacher.

  Morwen shrugged gently, standing off to the side. “Begin!”

  “Listen, you,” Patesh said, pointing toward Andy and growling, “I’m going to gain my [combat] rank, and I’m going to get it today!”

  Andy dropped his weight down and began bouncing, ignoring his opponents words. His opponent's angry bluster didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered in this match was scoring points.

  “Are you hearing me!” Patesh said, practically screaming as he rushed forward and leapt into the air again.

  This time, Andy followed his opponents' movements visually. Patesh flipped forward, but Andy reached above his head, holding up his palm. He slapped his opponent in the back, mid-flip.

  “Two points for Andy, one point for Patesh,” Morwen said. “Disengage and regroup!”

  “No! Goddammit he cheated!”

  Andy remained silent as his opponent became positively apoplectic.

  “That’s enough!” Gerran bellowed. “Regroup. Take a deep breath and center yourself.”

  Patesh huffed heavily, panting as he leaned forward, his hands on his knees. He closed his mouth and breathed heavily through his flaring nostrils.

  “Are you ready?” Morwen asked.

  Andy nodded.

  Patesh nodded too, but he seemed to be gasping for breath, his eyes wide with rage.

  “Are you sure?” Morwen asked.

  “Yes, bitch!” Patesh said.

  Morwen frowned heavily in an attempt to stifle the laugh that clearly shook her convulsing chest and core.

  “You will not speak that way to our host!” Gerran bellowed from the sidelines. “You will do your opponent the courtesy of finishing this match, but there will be consequences if you continue to act this way!”

  Patesh growled, his fists clenched. “Okay, I am ready.”

  “Begin.”

  Patesh’s face screwed up again as he screamed, sprinting toward Andy.

  “RAAAAAAAH” he leapt head first into Andy’s chest, striking his sternum as he bowled him over.

  “Two points for Patesh, two points for Andy,” Morwen said.

  “Clean up your form,” Gerran called. “You began well, but –”

  “Shut up, you!” Patesh screamed, stretching out his arm and pointing his finger directly at Gerran. “If it weren’t for my mother’s donations to your pathetic gym, you wouldn’t be in business at all! How dare you criticize me!”

  Gerran just rolled his eyes.

  “Final point,” Morwen said. “Ready? Begin.”

  Patesh began to chuckle, then laugh. “Yes!” he cried. “Yes, victory is MINE! I am about to receive my [combat] rank! I–”

  Andy slapped him square in the face.

  “Three points Andy!”

  “No!” Patesh cried. “No! No! No! He tried to injure me! Did you see that? He was attempting to–”

  “Do we agree?” Morwen said, ignoring Patesh’s protestations and looking over toward Gerran.

  “Yes, we do,” Gerran said. “Congratulations, Andy!”

  Patesh screamed and sprinted into the woods toward the city, his face redder than a kickball.

  “Quite an animated student you’ve got,” Pliny said.

  “I really do apologize for him. I apologize for his poor sportsmanship, and I apologize for the way he spoke to you, Morwen,” Gerran said. “He’s… well… he’s noble-born.”

  “Ah,” Morwen and Pliny said in unison.

  “I do my best,” Gerran said, “to reach people from that background, specifically.”

  “You do good work,” Morwen said.

  Gerran approached Morwen, shaking her hand and bowing slightly. “Thank you for your hospitality today. Next time you’re in the city, will you pay me a visit?”

  “Certainly,” Morwen said.

  Gerran approached Andy next, extending a hand. “My apologies again for Patesh,” he said. “And good work. You have attained an unusually high level of composure in your fighting for someone who has only trained a couple of days. If you weren’t training under my good friend Morwen, I’d poach you for myself. Perhaps I will anyway.”

  “Thank you,” Andy said, continuing to grip Gerran’s hand.

  “And Pliny,” Gerran said. “Perhaps I’ll see you around the taverns some day soon.”

  “I certainly hope so,” Pliny said.

  With that, Gerran bowed and departed, waving as he entered the eastern trail toward Cresthaven.

  *

  Level Up!

  Level 2

  Skill Rank Achieved!

  Combat 1

  *