Chapter 4 - Lessons with the Sword

Jaron stared out the window of his sitting room at the outer gardens below. He daydreamed about what life outside the walls that contained the gardens would be like, life as a regular citizen and not the son of a high nobleman. He found his life to be dreary. His daydreams usually consisted of what it would be like to be the son of a farmer, or a blacksmith. He knew that their lives were no source of adventure, but they had something he didn’t; freedom. They had the freedom to leave whenever they wanted; the freedom to take risks and chances. Almost anything had to be better than sitting stuck in a manor all day taking various lessons on subjects his father and mother thought would be important for him to have when he took control of the family estate.

Jaron wanted something more, something that filled his life with the unexpected. His days were monotonous. What he wouldn’t give for some variety. He knew what was going to come before it actually happened. Within minutes there would be a knock at the door and a servant would look in the room at his acknowledgement. The servant would inform him that it was time for his swordplay lesson to begin.

Jaron loathed his swordplay lessons. Of everything he had to endure, his training with the sword was when he felt as if he were treated like the weakest child. His trainer was Cedric Eddes, the Captain of his family’s personal guard. Jaron had seen the large man training and working with the other guards and when he worked with Jaron, it seemed as if he were holding back.

When the guards practiced, they were fierce, giving their opponent no mercy. When Cedric sparred with Jaron, there was no fierceness, no danger. Instead there seemed to be a fear of sorts, the fear that if Jaron were injured that Cedric would face the wrath of his father, or worse yet, his mother.

What use were lessons with the sword if after three years of training he was still ineffective with a blade? The knock came at the door, followed by the servant entering after Jaron acknowledged him and the servant told Jaron that it was time for his swordplay lesson. It was all as Jaron had predicted, all as it was every time.

Jaron left his sitting room and walked through the busy halls of the manner. Servants were bustling about; cleaning, redecorating and whatever else needed to be finished before the banquet. The manor had been that way for nearly three days now, as if it would never be done.

Jaron walked out into the inner courtyard, squinting in the bright light. He saw Cedric standing in the center of the clearing holding two wooden practice swords.

“Ready for today’s lesson lad?” the man’s thick accent marked him as originally being from the Rhodaron province to the south, as did his thick blonde head of hair and his beard, though both were marked with some gray and his deeply tanned skin. The man wore a sleeveless tunic which revealed his massive arms, and a pair of loose leather pants.

Jaron removed his jacket, placing it to rest over the rail the seperated the walkway from the gardens and clearing. He unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, setting it beside the jacket. He stood before the large man wearing only his slacks. The sun felt warm on his bare skin.

“I’m ready Cedric,” Jaron said as he held his hand out for one of the swords. Cedric tossed one of the practice blades to him. He swung the well-worked piece of wood a couple times, getting a feel for the balance and weight before finally letting his arm drop to his side.

Cedric watched a few paces away and readied himself when he saw that Jaron was finished. Cedric never attacked first, letting Jaron make the first move. Usually the first strike was deflected followed by instruction on what Jaron had done wrong.

This time, Jaron intended to catch the man off guard. Jaron charged without warning, darting towards his much larger opponent. As he moved in, Cedric shifted his stance, widening his feet and brining his blade up before him. Jaron tightened his grip on the practice blade in his right hand, feeling the grain of the wood in his palm and fingers. The craftsmanship was good, the grip of the wood was just smooth enough to be comfortable, but rough enough to maintain a solid hold.

Jaron began to move to the left. As he did so the large man began to shift his weight to his left foot, ready to parry the blow he expected to come in from his right side. Once Jaron saw the move begin, he quickly moved to his right and leapt into the air. Cedric’s eyes began to widen as he realized he wouldn’t be able to shift his significant weight in time to block the blow. Jaron swung down as he fell back to the earth.

Rather than attempt to block the blow, Cedric continued his motion already started towards the left and moved out of the way of the strike. The attack whistled through the air that Cedric had just been. Jaron quickly recovered, spinning to meet the strike that Cedric threw. There was a loud crack as the two pieces of wood struck each other.

Jaron wasted no time recovering, there was no time to waste. If he was going to force Cedric into fighting him, truly fighting, he would have to maintain the offensive. Jaron delivered blow after blow at the Rhodaron. Cedric deftly blocked each blow, however he was beginning to move back.

Finally Jaron found his opening. He began an overhead swing, bringing his sword straight down towards the older man’s head. Cedric blocked just as he had expected, but rather than continuing the strike Jaron began to spin, purposefully directing his blow to miss the man and his blocking sword. He dropped to one knee as he spun and struck out with the piece of wood.

Cedric cursed as the practice sword connected with his knee. He limped away from Jaron, holding a hand out to ensure that Jaron stopped his assault, “Damn lad, well done,” Cedric said through gritted teeth as be bent down to rub at his knee.

“You know, it’s your own fault Cedric,” a voice said from behind Jaron. He spun to find the source.
Leaning against one of the pillars of the walkway rail was a man. He wore a soldier’s uniform, from its make and cut, Jaron thought it was an officer’s coat. The man was taller than both Jaron and Cedric both, and well built from what Jaron could tell by the way he held himself. The man pushed himself off the pillar and walked over to Cedric.

“Quiet boy, don’t you think I know it’s my own fault? I trained the boy, I should have know he’d be crafty,” Cedric stood, stretching his leg and working his knee, using the man as a support as he did so.
Jaron used the moment to further inspect the man. From his red hair and lighter skin, Jaron marked him as a native of Garlin, or at least the area. Though the people of Garlin were varied in their appearance, there were not many from elsewhere in the world that would have that hair. Jaron quickly noted that there was a single star embroidered on his lapel and shoulder. A lieutenant, Jaron thought to himself, trying to piece together the relationship between the two men.

“So, this is the young lord you were telling me about?” the man asked as he looked Jaron over.

“Yes, yes. This is Jaron Kensly, Lord Kensly’s son.” Cedric said as he motioned towards Jaron.

“I see, not a bad swordsman from what I saw. It is an honor to meet you Jaron. I am Lieutenant Alexander Varross, commander of the Sixth Cavalry Unit of the Beldinian Army,” the man gave a salute and a slight bow before offering his hand.

“And it is an honor to meet you,” Jaron said as he inclined his head and took the man’s hand, giving it a firm shake before releasing it.

“Now Cedric,” Alexander said as he turned to look at the man that seemed to be moving around better than he had a moment ago, “how is it you think you are training this boy. He had you back into a corner, and he struck you no less. Are you afraid that you’ll break him?”

Jaron was shocked. Cedric was an intimidating man when he wanted to be, and to see the taller, yet noticeably smaller man approach him in such a way was strange.

“I’ll teach the boy as I see fit Alexander, or would you rather that I broke the poor lad.”

“I seem to remember you giving me more than my fair share of bruises when you trained me, and a broken arm or two if I remember correctly,” the soldier said frankly.

Jaron’s eyes widened slightly at the statement. Though the statement placed another piece into the puzzle that was the connection between the two men.

“Aye, I did, and your mother had my head for every one. The only reason you ever got hurt was because you were reckless and stupid,” Cedric said in defense of himself.

The two men stood staring at one another. It looked as if they might come to blows. The two suddenly burst into laughter. Jaron stood dumbstruck, having no idea what had just happened. The two settled themselves after a few more moments and Alexander turned to look at Jaron with a smile.

“Perhaps you’d like a different opponent while Cedric recovers from that strike. It’s been a while since I’ve had a decent spar and I could use the exercise. I’ve spent the last month on a horse getting here and my muscles are a little tight,” Alexander didn’t even seem to wait for a response before he was standing by the rail removing his officer’s coat and gray tunic.

Jaron began to worry. With the coat on, the man looked well built, but no more so than Jaron was. Looking at his back, Jaron knew that he was wrong. The man’s back was a tight knot of well toned muscle. The man turned and Jaron had to keep his jaw from dropping open, his arms and chest were no different from his back. Alexander stretched his arms and back and Jaron almost tried to think of a way out of what he was sure would be a lot of pain.

This is what you wanted, Jaron thought, an opponent that would challenge you, that wouldn’t be concerned so much with who or what you are.

Cedric held the practice sword away from Alexander when he came to grab it, “Don’t hurt him too bad, please, it’s my job to protect the boy and it’ll be my hide if anything happens.”

“Don’t worry so much,” Alexander said as he snatched the sword, “I’ll be sure that any bruising will heal within a few days. And besides, I’m sure you know a good healer here in Garlin that could look to him.”

Jaron moved towards the center of the clearing, waiting for Alexander. Cedric stood, arms crossed and jaw clenched, watching. It looked as if every muscle in his body was tensed, ready to jump in if things got out of hand.

Alexander stepped into Jaron’s line of vision, “Ready?” he asked matter-of-factly.

Jaron nodded, readying his stance. Alexander dropped into a low stance and immediately charged. Jaron was stunned, he wasn’t use to going on the defensive. Almost instinctively he brought up his sword to block the blow. Wood met wood with a loud crack. Jaron leapt back, increasing the gap between the two men. Alexander did not waste a moment, he lunged back in, swinging the practice sword at Jaron’s head. Jaron ducked and rolled to his left, away from the blow.

Jaron jumped back up to his feet. Alexander was on top of him. Jaron brought up his sword, barely blocking blow after blow. His ears began to ring as the sound of the two pieces of wood connecting drummed inside his ears. His hand began to pound. The force with which Alexander struck jarred the practice sword in his hand, but he refused to let go, if he let go, there would be nothing to protect him.

You’re the one that wanted a real fight, and now you have one, do something! Jaron screamed at himself.

He leapt backwards and immediately charged in, going on the offensive. Alexander easily deflected the blow and let Jaron’s momentum carry him past. Pain shot across Jaron’s back as Alexander struck him with the flat of the blade. Jaron was stunned. Cedric had hit him before with the sword, but he usually pulled back on the blow so that the pain was minor.

Jaron spun around just in time to see Alexander charging back in. Jaron feigned a block and rolled to his right, striking Alexander in the back as he had just done. He barely seemed to notice it. Jaron took the opportunity while Alexander’s back was still to him to strike. He swung his practice blade and was stunned when it stopped short with a loud crack.

Alexander’s back was still to Jaron, but his sword was held over his left shoulder, blocking the entire length of his back. Alexander flicked his wrist and threw Jaron off balance and stumbling backwards. Alexander then spun, swinging his sword and dropping to a knee, just as Jaron had done to Cedric.

Jaron jumped. He watched as Alexander’s strike flowed through where he had just been. He managed to right himself in mid-air and jumped back two more times creating a distance of nearly fifteen paces between himself and the other man. Jaron panted for air, sweat streaming down his face. He had never worked this hard before. Jaron looked at Alexander as he stood straight, sweat beaded on his forehead but stuck. His breathing was even and calm, no sign of laboring at all.

Alexander charged. Jaron decided that evasiveness wouldn’t help, the other man was just as agile, if not more, than he was. He took a wide stance, readying himself to take the charge head on. As Alexander got in range Jaron stabbed at him. Alexander shifted himself to the right. He grabbed Jaron’s wrist with his left and and twisted.

Time seemed to slow, every detail becoming clear. Jaron watched as the practice sword slid from his own hand, tumbling to the ground. He felt his knee fold as Alexander kicked it out. He watched as the grass below him became sky above him while be spun, falling to the ground. Then the fear came as he watched Alexander spin his practice sword in his hand, reversing the grip. Jaron tried to move but Alexander held him fast to the ground with his left arm. The blade began it’s descent. Jaron squeezed his eyes closed as he prepared for the pain that was about to come.

The pain never came. The pressure was released from Jaron’s chest. He opened his eyes to find Alexander holding his practice sword a sliver’s width fro his throat. He other man stood up straight and offered his hand.

“Not bad at all,” Alexander said as he pulled Jaron to his feet, “you’ll make a fine swordsman, as long as Cedric trains you properly.”

Jaron gasped for air and doubled over. It seemed impossible to breathe. A strong hand pulled him up straight and lifted his hands behind his head.

“Stand up straight and keep your arms up, give yourself room to expand and breathe.” Alexander said as he demonstrated, filling his chest with air.

Cedric still stood by the railing, arms still crossed, though a shaky smile marked his face now.

“You… you’re bare… barely even breathing hard.” Jaron said, gasping for air.

Alexander smiled knowingly, “You need to learn to control your breathing better, breathe in as you prepare for a strike and breathe out as your deliver it. There is a rhythm to combat. Find that, and match your breathing to it. It’ll take some practice, but you’ll get it.”

Cedric approached the two finally, giving a slight chuckle, “Well, that was impressive,” he said, markedly less worried than before the sparring match, “but that thing there at the end, where’d you learn that, I sure didn’t teach it to you?”

Alexander spun the piece of wood he still held, demonstrating the reversed grip, “This? A couple years back I was sent to Sumadur with a small contingent of my men. There was a group of Quel’dan that were said to be causing some trouble for a local lumber mill. We were sent to mediate a solution. However, as we approached we were attack be a group of the Quel’dan. Their leader fought entirely with this style. It was quite impressive to see. Once we calmed everyone down and mediated a solution, I asked if he might teach me some of it.”

Jaron lowered his arms, breath finally coming easier to him. He looked past the two men towards one of the entrances to the courtyard. He saw his father standing just outside the door along with his retainer, Waltence. When his father saw that he had been noticed he approached the small group.
Cedric stiffened as he saw the approaching men. Alexander noticed the reaction and looked towards the two that approached. His demeanor didn’t seem to change at all.

“Cedric, have you decided to bring another in to teach my son the ways of the sword?” Jaron’s father asked calmed, though his voice still held a tone of command, as it always did.

“Oh, uh, of course not Lord Kensly, this is merely an old friend,” Cedric replied worriedly, motioning towards Alexander and giving a deep bow.

“Is that so?” Jaron’s father asked as he looked to Alexander.

“I am Lieutenant Alexander Varross of the Sixth Cavalry Unit Lord Kensly,” he gave a salute and bowed, “It is an honor to meet you. I hope I haven’t overstepped my bounds, I merely asked your son if he would like a change in sparring partners. I apologize if…”

Jaron’s father cut Alexander off with a raise of his hand, “Nonsense Lieutenant, quite the contrary. I believe that it was good to experience something different, something closer to a real fight,” Cedric released a breath he had apparently been holding.

“Your son is quite the swordsman, a little rough in some areas, but those will smooth out with a few more months training. He is more than capable even now, what he lacks is more than made up for in his determination and his courage.” Jaron thought he could feel his cheeks redden at the compliments, though he hoped the others took it as exhaustion.

“I believe it was good for the boy to experience some fear in combat. It hardens a man and prepares him for any conflict he may face in the future, physical or not,” Alexander nodded in agreement to Jaron’s father’s statement, “Lieutenant, later this week my family and I are holding a banquet to celebrate Jaron’s coming-of-age. I would be honored if you would attend.” The inflection in the man’s voice was more that of an order than a question.

“I would be glad to attend. I would have to clear it with Captain Edbar when he arrives, though the break from soldiering would be appreciated.”

“Excellent, I will have invitations sent for you and Captain Edbar, it wouldn’t be appropriate for a higher ranking officer to not be invited to an event of this caliber that his subordinate was.”
“Lord Kensly,” Waltence interrupted the conversation, “I’m afraid that you still need to prepare for Lord Danar’s ball for this evening.”

“Indeed, the duties of a nobleman, sometimes what I wouldn’t give to be in your place Lieutenant. Well, I look forward to seeing you again, and may the Great Weaver keep you safe,” Jaron’s father gave a nod as he turned and headed back towards the manor. Cedric and Alexander gave bows, though no one was watching.

“Well Cedric, I should probably get back to the barracks before Captain Edbar arrives, wouldn’t want to give him any more reason than he already does to hate me,” Alexander said with a chuckle.

“Sounds good boy, if you get the chance to see your parents give them my wishes, and feel free to stop in and chat if you get the chance,” Cedric said, shaking the other man’s hand.

“Jaron, again it was a pleasure meeting you. A few words of advice, keep your sword arm up and you body turned away ever so slightly. It makes it more difficult to read your moves before you make them.” Alexander gave a bow before turning and collecting his things, pulling his tunic over his head and replacing his jacket and exiting the courtyard.

“Well boy,” Cedric said as he collected the two practice swords and tossed one to Jaron, “I don’t believe your lesson is over yet and I think I’m in good enough shape to spar yet.”

Arm up and body turned, Jaron thought as he readied himself.