“He’s your father?!” Francis gasped, unable to hide his shock.
“Unfortunately,” replied Kels. “My dear mother apparently had a soft spot for injured animals and old men missing teeth. How was she to know he could still sire a child?”
“Bah! Your mother knew exactly what she was getting into! It should be y ou she feels sorry for,” Nehemiah exclaimed as he turned toward Francis. “She lured me to her place, got me drunk, and then nine months later delivered this exceptionally large child in my arms.”
“Which you didn’t turn away.”
Francis chuckled when a single spindly finger was held up at the younger man, who grinned and showed a perfect set of teeth.
There’s no way those two can have the same bloodline… One’s almost toothless, bald, and short… yet this knight is like a specimen of what a warrior should look like.
“Don’t be angry when I ask this,” Francis said to Kels, trying to preface what came next, “but was your mother like over seven feet tall to make up for his height?”
Kels roared with laughter as the older man scowled, wrinkles showing up everywhere on his face.
“Oh, I like him!” the knight exclaimed. “Come, grab a sword off that rack and let's see what you can do!”
Without waiting, Francis moved, excited at getting a chance to improve his sword skills.
“I’m going to take a nap,” Nehemiah said. “Someone pulled me from my bed, not even allowing me to put pants on!”
Francis shuddered as the older man moved toward a bench, as that shriveled-up memory played through his mind.
Let’s see what I’ve got to go with.
[ Status ]
Francis Lancaster
Age 17
Strength: 14
Endurance: 17
Agility: 13
Wisdom: 13
Perception: 11
Magic: 10
Skills
Swordsmanship (Common) – 19 Novice
Shield Use (Common) - 17 Novice
Tracking (Uncommon) - 11 Novice
Stealth (Uncommon) - 11 Novice
Traps (Uncommon) - 3 Basic
Rock Throwing (Common) - 7 Basic
Mental Resist (Uncommon) - 22 Novice
Blood of the Undying ( Unknown )- 100+ Sage
Fast Learner (Epic) - 1 Basic (Locked)
Wincing at the truth of how bad his stats were compared to what this young man must have had, Francis took a deep breath. He then retrieved a sword from a wooden barrel.
“Let’s get this going,” Kels called out. “I’ve only got so long before I’m expected to be on the battlefield.”
Moving over quickly, Francis drew within about six feet and stopped, setting his feet. “Now what?”
“You try to hit me. Don’t worry about me. I won’t do anything for a while. I just want to see what you can–”
Before the knight had finished his words, Francis moved, sword tip coming up as he thrust at the shirtless man.
A smile appeared on Kels’s face, seemingly unconcerned that Francis had gone for a sneak attack. Kels’s bare hand came up, knocking the attack to the side while he darted in the other direction.
Francis tried everything: swinging, kicking, throwing a punch, and even using an elbow.
Every time Francis attacked, it was deflected or parried with ease, those blue eyes watching every move he made. Not once had the knight met his gaze, which almost upset him.
Minutes passed, and Francis was surprised to find that he wasn’t winded as he had expected.
“I… I think that’s everything I know. All the combinations they taught me,” Francis said as he took a few steps back.
“An eighteen or nineteen at best in the Swordsmanship skill. Am I correct?”
“Uh… yeah… How did you know?”
“Lots of time training people. You’re not any good yet, but I can see the technique behind the swings, and I can tell there is a limited ability to understand the flow of battle. Your use of the rest of your body was surprising at first, but if what I heard is true, being a ninth son meant you probably had to fight dirty, unlike most.”
“Correct on every account. So now what?”
Kels moved to the edge of the square, laying his sword down on a bench outside the markings, next to a shirt and jacket. He then strode to the barrel containing the wooden swords.
“I’m going to train you,” he replied as he made his way back. “It will hurt, but the good news is this square will heal you of injuries faster than usual. I’m not certain how high your Endurance is, as fatigue is also mitigated here. I can make assumptions, but I’d rather not be rude and tell you what I believe about your Agility and Strength. Now then, if you’re ready, I will fight you as someone just a few points above your level should. Are you ready?”
“Should I not get a shield?” Francis asked, setting his feet and glancing at the rack with several shields.
“No,” replied the Knight with a grin. “Swordsmanship isn’t just about a shield. In fact, a shield is great if you have one and it's not broken. But what happens if you only learn to use a shield and never learn how to fight without one? Many warriors have died on the day when the piece of equipment they depended upon to protect them broke.”
I guess that makes a lot more sense… then why did Phillip never…
Ohh…
“So they taught us with shields because it's easier to learn with one than without one. Correct?”
“Father, he's smarter than I expected! Maybe he really is a sage!”
Francis turned to see what Nehemiah might say in reply, only to receive the flat blade of the Knight's sword against his back.
“ Never turn your back on me,” Kels said.
Trying to touch the stinging spot, he turned and saw that Kels’s smile had disappeared, replaced by a frown.
“In this square, we fight as if death is real. I won’t take it easy on you, because one doesn’t get stronger without risk. I’ll knock you unconscious and let the square heal you, rather than letting you have it easy. Do you understand?”
Still wincing, Francis nodded.
“Can I take my jacket and shirt off, then? They are a little tight.”
“That I will allow,” Kels replied, a small smile appearing as Francis backed away from the Knight until he was out of the square.
Once both men were shirtless and a nod had been given, the lesson began; Francis quickly learned just how little training he had received.
Every strike from Kels carried a noticeable amount of strength. One of the first things Francis learned was that power didn’t come just from swinging faster. Four strikes had struck Francis, pushing past his parrying weapon, since the man’s weight followed through with each attack.
Red marks appeared everywhere on Francis’ body, yet the Knight never let up, delivering attack after attack, only occasionally having to parry before counterattacking.
A foot came, tripping Francis when he got too close, sending him to the ground, and the flat blade of the sword slapped against his chest, knocking the wind out of him.
“Stand up! Stay low, on the balls of your feet, and feel where to move and strike. You’re overthinking it. Stop trying to think and just react!” yelled Kels as he moved away, giving Francis room. “Your skill isn’t good enough, and your mind isn’t sharp enough to do that yet.”
“Sorry,” Francis muttered, starting to rise. The sound of movement caught his attention, and Francis raised his sword, knowing a blow was coming because he had taken his eyes off Kels.
The sound of metal against wood echoed in his ears, coming from just a few inches above his skull.
“Good!” Kels exclaimed. “You reacted!”
This time, ensuring he didn’t drop his gaze, Francis tried to do what he had been instructed.
Pain was a constant teacher, and after another twenty minutes, the first notification came.
[ Swordsmanship Skill Increased - 20 ]
As the notification vanished, Francis grinned. The next strike he parried, and then attacked in return, watching as Kels’s smile appeared as the knight batted the sword away.
“Improvement! I like it!”
That short praise ended as a fist struck Francis’s jaw, sending him back a few steps, and then the sword tip pressed against his sternum, bringing pain without breaking the skin.
Panting and grunting, he held his metal sword aloft, trying to breathe through the discomfort, keeping his eyes fixed on the Knight the entire time.
“Looks like you’re going to be worthy of this training,” Kels said, taking a step back and lowering his sword. “Now, get a quick drink and a small amount of food. I don’t want you throwing up in here, but I also want us not to have to worry about you passing out.”
Without waiting to be told again, Francis moved quickly to the table. Then he savored each bite as he ripped fresh bread apart and stuffed it into his mouth.
“Eat some fruit! Stop eating just bread! And have a piece of meat, you idiot!”
Obeying each order that came, the ninth child, who had never had such an abundance of food within his reach, went to work consuming everything he could.
***
[ Swordsmanship Skill Increased - 26 Proficient ]
His strike moved faster, and this time Kels dodged for real; the metal edge of Francis’s sword missed his skin by a few inches.
Once more, the punch came, yet Francis blocked it with his other hand, kicking at the Knight and clipping his leg.
“Holy fuck!” Francis exclaimed. “Your leg is like a rock!”
Laughter came from Kels as he backed up a step and nodded, lowering the sword to his side. “Yes… You might get there one day, but kicking me is a good way to break your toe if you have boots like that on. Now then, you just ranked up, didn’t you?”
Nodding and grinning like an idiot, Francis felt like all the time he had used a sword before this point had been wrong. Every swing, thrust, and swipe was just an arm movement. Now, he understood the importance of one's stance, their hips, and more.
“It’s… It’s like I suddenly know why I sucked so badly,” Francis replied. “Tell me, how much harder is it to rank up from here?”
“Like climbing a mountain with only one leg,” Kels replied. “The truth is, it gets harder the higher your skill level gets. In this square, an enchantment will allow me to help raise someone's skill to where you are, rather quickly. After that, something like this is almost impossible to create without a master or grandmaster enchanter willing to invest the materials and time. There are only two master enchanters that I know of, and neither of them would be willing to waste their effort on such a thing.”
“Because?” Francis asked.
Motioning to the table with food, Kels led the way with a smile as Francis never took his gaze off him.
“Because they are selfish and only do things for themselves. If by some miracle you were able to get one to agree to create it, I doubt it would assist enough or propel one to the advanced rank outside of a first- or second-born. Now, eat, and let’s talk about what you want to do next. How many stat points did you get?”
“Two in Agility, one in Perception. None in Strength or Endurance.”
Nodding as he chewed on some jerky, the Knight gazed at the edge of their lit area.
“Dad, what time is it?” Kels asked.
“You know what time it is,” Nehemiah grunted. “Why are you bothering me? I was asleep!”
“No, you weren’t,” Kels replied. “You were breathing faster than usual.”
The older man sat up, and Francis could see a frown on his face.
“You’re right,” Nehemiah said. “We need to go. The battle will start soon.”
A hand appeared near Francis; after looking at it, then up at Kels’s grinning face, Francis quickly shook it.
“Good work today,” Kels said. “Perhaps we can train in something else another day. For now, I need to get prepared for the battle. My father will watch over you, and you can see how the battle goes.” He paused, a small grimace present for a moment. “For your sake, I pray the information you gave is correct. I’d rather not see you die in such a horrible fashion.”
“You and me both,” Francis joked, glad to see the Knight smile at his words.
“Let’s go, boy,” Nehemiah said. ”We have places to be, as does my bastard of a son.”
Francis froze upon hearing those words, sure that Kels would say or do something, but when nothing happened, he trotted to where Nehemiah was.
“Uh… why would you call him that?” Francis asked quietly.
“Because I didn’t marry his mother. My wife wouldn’t have appreciated that at all.”
Eyes as wide as the rolls he had consumed, Francis couldn’t help but shake his head. He followed the older man outside to find that the sun was rising in the east.
Horns sounded a few moments later, announcing the call to wake up, and Francis felt his heart start racing, knowing that everything he had bet on would soon unfold.
Well, at least I won’t have to fight today.