Training continued apace for Turgeon in the weeks that followed his first day with the Swordmaster. He fell into a new routine of training in the morning, discussions with the Librarian in the afternoon and dinner with Daelrud in the evenings – typically interrupted at least once by Y’grathen and his followers.

  While he and Daelrud had become fast friends through shared misery, he missed his friend Geoffry. Each day he went to the servant’s lunch as he had before and each day he asked after his friend. The other servants always had some excuse for his absence ranging from an errand outside the keep to the stables being too busy for lunch breaks, but the truth of the matter eluded him and he had even begun to fear for Geoffry’s safety.

  Training with the Swordmaster quickly became more challenging. At first it was pretty simple – passing steps versus advancing steps, walking naturally in the proper stance, stringing together advancing and passing steps in patterns.

  Then, a few days after his first lesson, the Swordmaster began their morning with a surprising statement: “Next, you will learn how to fall.”

  “What does falling have to do with fighting?” he had snapped back thoughtlessly, “I would think the goal would be to stay on your feet. Seems easier to poke your opponent that way.” Turgeon made an imitation of a romance novel swashbuckler’s thrust as he said the last.

  The Swordmaster did not take kindly to his joke, and he found himself on his back staring up at the gruff man a moment later.

  “One, you will fall when fighting and it is best that you know how to do it so you aren’t hurt in the process and hopefully are able to get back on your feet quickly. Two, you will fall often in training, and unless you want to break bones and collect bruises often as well it is beneficial to learn how to do it properly.”

  Point taken, Turgeon nodded, got back on his feet and proceeded to spend the next week of training learning how to fall in more ways than he would have thought possible. He learned to avoid using his hands to break his falls, risking a broken wrist, and instead fall onto larger and better padded areas of his body like his back and buttocks. He learned how to fall forward onto his back and how to fall backward into a roll over his shoulder and quickly back onto his feet.

  Having learned how to fall properly, the Swordmaster deemed him ready to begin his instruction in basic throws. This education consisted primarily of the Swordmaster throwing him into various falls he had been practicing.

  Turgeon was pretty sure the Swordmaster was enjoying this more than he should be, but he had to admit to himself he was beginning to enjoy it as well despite the bruises and sore muscles.

  In the most basic of throws the Swordmaster used against him he simply stepped behind Turgeon, placing his lead leg firmly behind Turgeon’s back leg while simultaneously pushing on his opposite shoulder driving him down into the empty space where the braced leg was unable to move to for balance.

  “This is the empty foot,” he instructed Turgeon, “the gap where the missing third leg of a tripod formed with your opponent's other two legs should be. When throwing your opponent, always throw them onto the empty foot.”

  He promptly demonstrated the technique to Turgeon by throwing him to the floor.

  “Don’t resist!” the Swordmaster implored him for the hundredth time that morning. He had once again attempted to push back and resist being thrown. “When you resist it just makes the fall harder. Never resist your opponent’s maneuvers, always go with them and allow your opponent to show you the next play.

  “That’s enough for today, we will resume tomorrow. Until then: don’t resist. Try applying the principle elsewhere, it will make it easier to apply here in the salle.”

  *****

  Turgeon’s mind was made up that he would find Geoffry that day. After his lesson with the Swordmaster he headed directly to the stable and began asking after him.

  Upon arrival at the stables the first person he saw was a younger stableboy, he thought the boy’s name was maybe Teod?

  “Teod!” he called out to him as he approached the building across the castle yard from the keep. The boy took one look at him and dashed into the stable. He’d always thought the boy was a bit odd, but this was out of the ordinary even for him. Maybe he’d gotten the boy’s name wrong?

  Entering the stable slowly, Turgeon allowed his eyes to adjust to the diffuse light of the space and surveyed the stalls. Teod, if that was his name, was nowhere to be seen, but a few other stableboys were working on various chores, cleaning stalls and brushing down horses. As he approached them to inquire as to Geoffry’s whereabouts they all either ignored him outright, continuing with whatever task they were engaged in without acknowledging him in any way, or worse. Some even fled as he approached.

  Finally, at the back of the stable he found his friend Geoffry. Unable to contain the joy at learning he was safe, he went to hug him, but was pushed back by a stiff arm from the other boy.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, more than a little hurt at this refusal of their friendship.

  “Look, it’s not me, but, we just… we shouldn’t be seen together.”

  “Why not?” This seemed wholly unreasonable.

  “It’s just, well… the other servants are all pretty mad at you. They think you’re just an upjumped farm boy who now gets to play at being a noble. Hesina, the Steward’s wife, tried to speak up for you but they shouted her down and now some are even shunning her.”

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  “It’s not like I chose this! You know that! I want nothing to do with the Swordmaster, or …” he had been about to say the nobles, but that would include Daelrud, who he had actually come to like and so that wasn’t quite true, “… it’s not fair, Geoffry…” he trailed off a strangled complaint.

  “It doesn’t have to be fair. Just because we were friends they’ve made me do all the shit work for the past fortnight. So don’t talk to me about fair.”

  Geoffry was right of course, and Turgeon knew that better than most. Life wasn’t fair, and it didn’t have to be.

  “I’m sorry, but I really can’t be seen with you right now Turge,” it hurt to hear him use the shortened name Aelfredd had often used with him in this conversation of all places, “You need to go.”

  He heard the Swordmaster’s advice as a whisper in his ear. Don’t resist.

  With a heavy heart Turgeon fled the stables and made his way to the library, where Master Jesphat would be waiting for him.

  Despite being distracted thinking about what he had learned in the stable, Turgeon did keep an eye out for Brigitta and the Princess as he made his way through the castle to the library, so this time he saw and heard them approaching before they saw him.

  Taking advantage of a nearby alcove, Turgeon ducked out of sight as they passed down the hallway.

  “But Suzette, your father really insisted that you must do this for him.” That was Brigitta’s voice, imploring the Princess to undertake some task at her father – the King’s – behest. Interesting…

  “If he wants this done he should just do it himself. It's not like he is incapable of the casting, and he has access to the materials needed,” the Princess’ voice was pitched higher than usual, almost a whine.

  “We both heard him when he asked, he said the risk of being caught is too high for him to do it.”

  “But what about the risk of me being caught…” Turgeon lost the conversation as they moved on down the hallway, but something about it had seemed off to him. It was almost as if Brigitta was giving instructions to the Princess, or at least relaying and impressing on her requests from the King. Perhaps there was more to Brigitta and Suzette’s relationship as Princess and handmaid than met the eye.

  Implications of this realization were rattling around in his head, sending his thoughts spinning in a dozen directions as he continued on towards the castle library. One aspect of what he had overheard, however, had stuck out to him and piqued his curiosity: the Princess, Suzette now that he knew her name, had referred to a “casting” that her father was capable of. That sounded an awful lot like she was talking about a magic spell.

  By the time he reached the library he had resolved to ask Master Jesphat about magic. He knew it was outlawed in Falkaria, but he also knew that didn’t prevent people from using it entirely. Magic was rare, but it was real, not just a bedtime story despite what Aelfredd would have had him believe.

  With a head full of courage he walked right up to the librarian’s desk and made his demand, “Master, I would like you to teach me about magic.”

  The librarian slowly set down the book he had been reading and leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands before him and resting his elbows on the desk as he studied Turgeon imperiously.

  A year ago – maybe even a month ago – Turgeon would have withered under that glare, apologized and sat down to his assigned reading. But not today. Whether it was his conversation with Geoffry or the progress he had already made in his training he couldn’t be sure, but he wasn’t ready to back down. He didn’t push back – that would be resisting – but he held his ground and awaited the librarian’s response.

  “Magic is illegal,” is what he expected the librarian to reply to his request, but the librarian’s reply came as a surprise, and from the librarian’s tone he thought it might have surprised him as well.

  “Very well, I will tell you what I know of magic. The practice of magic is outlawed in the Kingdom of Falkaria, by decree of King Harbin in 771 AE, referring to the after empire reckoning of timelines, of course.”

  With that, the Librarian picked up his book and began reading again.

  “Master, why did King Harbin outlaw magic?”

  Sighing, the Librarian set down the book and glared at Turgeon for a good while. Finally, he resigned himself to this conversation and provided an answer.

  “King Harbin outlawed magic because it had become dangerous to use. To understand the dangers, you must first understand how magic works.”

  Now this was getting interesting…

  “There are different kinds of magic, different branches that are derived from different fuels. Without ingestion of the required fuel, even a skilled magician is unable to provide the required energies for a casting, or use of magic.

  “All of the fuels are derived from naturally occurring flora – plants, found in different climates and regions of Atenla. Some of the sources became… corrupted, in ways that caused their use to be detrimental to the physical and mental health of magicians who employed them. Some, including King Harbin, believed all the sources were corrupted, and therefore that all magic was corrupted and evil. To prevent this evil from corrupting his citizens, he outlawed magic in Falkaria.”

  This raised so many questions. Why had the fuel for magic been corrupted? When did the corruption begin? Were all fuels corrupted as ‘some’ apparently believed? How many fuels are there and what are they? Was magic allowed outside of Falkaria? What happened to magicians who were exposed to corrupted fuels?

  He had to choose the one question he would ask next wisely. He suspected Master Jesphat would plead ignorance to much of what he wanted to know about the corruption of the fuels.

  The librarian was now patiently waiting for his next inquiry, so he made his choice.

  “What are the branches of magic?”

  “The most well known branches are those of powder and smoke.

  “Smoke magic is still practiced widely in Falkaria, despite the ban. It is easy to conceal the corruption caused by the practice of smoke magic, and the illusions one can create have minimal practical use. The fuel for this branch is the herbal fruit of a flower that grows prolifically and widely across Falkaria and has proven hard to eradicate.

  “Powder magic is more rare, but it is widely known that the criminal organizations here in Falkaria employ assassins known as quickmen who practice this art. The corruption caused by consuming powder is more obvious though, and, as the criminal element likes to say ‘there is a reason you don’t meet old quickmen.’”

  This had been more information than Turgeon could’ve hoped to have gleaned from the librarian: despite his reputation for spreading knowledge like a farmer plants seeds, Turgeon knew the man was very careful with certain knowledge.

  “May I ask you a question, Turgeon?”

  He didn’t feel he was in a position to deny this request, so he nodded.

  “Why the sudden interest in magic?”

  Turgeon balked at that, it was not a question he could answer truthfully. That would require revealing that he had snooped on the Princess’ conversation in the hallway, and he suspected that admission would not go over well with Master Jesphat. He thought quickly…

  “It’s not sudden, Master,” came what he thought was a clever reply, “I’ve just been afraid to ask before.”

  Luckily, the librarian seemed to accept that answer. He dismissed Turgeon to proceed with his previously assigned reading.