Ranks of young men and women lined the wall, from all social standings and backgrounds. Without exception, they were in their upper teen years, but their appearances were as diverse as their pasts. Elves, humans, halflings, and dwarves composed their regiment, but in this moment, they all shared anticipation. For some, that feeling manifested as dread, looming over them, but for others, it came to them as an eagerness, desperately wanting their name to be called. They had each worked towards this, but the words that surfaced here were those that would determine the futures of many.
As the head trainer’s gaze passed over each of them, the students took note of the presence of two of the nine knights in the Honor Guard. The elites of the forces under the Ionescu viscountcy—charged with directly protecting the viscount and his family—had no fathomable reason to be sending two of their number to oversee trainees, rather than the typical one. As he finished his uncomfortably tense survey, the head trainer stepped back, so that each of the students was within his field of view. His voice boomed, shattering the quiet.
“The participants in today’s qualification bout will be Nveridius, of the Etterath baron family, and Sir Leon Albesk, of the Ionescu Honor Guard. Upon holding his own against Sir Leon, Nveridius will earn the right to become a member of the Honor Guard, following his promotion to knighthood.”
There was a torrent of suppressed emotions that rippled through the trainees. Some breathed sighs of relief that it wasn’t them chosen to spar against the esteemed knight. Some were in shock that Nveh was matched against a member of the Honor Guard, as opposed to a trainer of theirs. Some bristled at the thought of this man, a baron’s child, who was likely selected solely due to connections.
Nveh himself, however, had been prepared for this. He was grasping his greatsword in anticipation, running his hand over the grip pensively. He knew that his family was advocating for him and pushing their influence behind closed doors, although he wished to ascend on his own merits.
Already clad in high-quality armor and bearing a lightly used greatsword—both gifts from his family—the silver-haired squire stepped forward. He bowed slightly towards both the head trainer and his opponent out of respect. With measured steps and a certain elegance, he made his way to the center of the training grounds, carrying himself as the noble, dignified knight that he was known as. He held a spectral grace, not helped by the fact that he was pale and his hair matched the color of his armor and weapon. But already, Nveh was trying to gauge his opponent. Nveh was just under six feet tall, but Leon was taller and larger than him, though that wasn’t necessarily an advantage in a quick spar. From the way Leon moved with his sword and armor, also not taking his eyes off Nveh, it was clear that he was observing Nveh in kind. The two took their places opposite each other and saluted in unison—Nveh with his practically unblemished sword, and Leon with his battle-scarred blade.
They took their stances, waiting for their signal to begin. Leon did the ritual courtesy of the salute, but it was clear to anyone watching that he looked down on Nveh. He held his sword with both hands, facing Leon full-front, but Leon kept his body at an angle, facing more towards their audience. He didn’t think that Nveh would be able to last more than a couple seconds against him. But that wasn’t important to Nveh’s assessment. His eyes went from Leon’s worn armor, to his steady stance, to the way he was holding his sword with one hand, with the other behind his back. He could use the veteran knight’s carelessness against him. He could, but he wanted deception to be his last resort. With all of his peers watching him intently, he wanted to prove that he was ascending not just through nepotism. Their glares met.
And they began.
Leon moved first, quick but controlled. He lunged, closed the distance, and targeted Nveh’s sword. Nveh didn’t anticipate his speed, but his wariness narrowly saved him. He took a small step to the side, offsetting Leon’s strike to meet him in a parry.
But the attacks continued. Leon wasted no time recovering. He used his momentum to shift the weight of his sword into a series of blows. Nveh was able to evade, but Leon’s speed and force wore away at him. Their swords met, time after time, but Nveh’s guard began to fail. In a single powerful strike, Nveh’s blade was knocked below his torso.
And his opponent’s came down slashing.
He jumped back, but the strike left a clear engraving on his armor. He had a second to breathe, and in that second, his mind was rushing. It had only been a moment, but the difference between them was clear. Leon was right to be confident, and the respite that he was allowing further enforced that.
Leon remained standing where he was, as relaxed as he had been before they started. Nveh’s shoulders rose and fell, panting from their short, one-sided exchange. Still, though, he kept watching Leon, his focus sharper than his implement.
The veteran knight flicked his blade towards himself, beckoning Nveh. He was being forced onto the offensive, but he stayed patient, and his breath evened out.
It was Leon’s patience that ran out first. With the slightest hint of a condescending smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, he advanced. Nveh brought his blade back up, taking position to defend.
Leon rushed forward, faster than before, and purposely met Nveh’s blade in a parry that was so close, Leon whispered to him.
“If you don’t start going on the offensive, you’re going to run out of stamina. Show us why he chose you,” as Leon goaded him, he subtly nodded towards the head trainer. Nveh tried to hide his irritation as he moved one of his hands to push Leon away, leveraging their swords. They broke apart again, and Nveh hesitated.
The truth of Leon’s words was obvious, but Nveh couldn’t fathom a way to beat the knight, who had years more field experience than him. He had no other choice, though.
He moved in. His opponent responded in kind. They traded blows, a song of steel ringing through the training grounds. Parries, ripostes, advances, and retreats produced their hectic melody, still only a matter of seconds. And as students and trainers alike watched, their bout started coming to a close.
Nveh lunged, overextending himself. Leon took the opening. The hilt of his sword chased Nveh’s neck.
It was a feint. Using the momentum from his overexerted lunge, Nveh rolled, evading what would have been an end-all blow. He stayed low, knocking Leon off his feet with a wide sweep.
As Leon fell, his sword cut through the air, grazing just below Nveh’s neck. Nveh paused for a moment—did this knight forget that they weren’t trying to kill each other?
As Nveh started to bring his sword down in a mock final blow, Leon blocked it while on the ground. Their blades remained locked, both trembling from effort. But the pressure Nveh was exerting fell through. Leon angled his blade to shift Nveh’s away from his head, then it went slack.
The final scene of the bout was one to behold. Breathing heavy over Leon, Nveh drove his blade an inch into the packed dirt beside his opponent’s head. His knees were bent, putting all of his weight into the final blow. His mind was blank, unable to comprehend what he just did. The knight below him dropped his sword, holding his hands up in surrender as a smirk crossed his face.
“Well done.”
Even after those words, the grounds were completely silent. The entire match had lasted no longer than two minutes, but no one could believe what just happened. And from the center of the squires ranks, a single person began to applaud. All eyes turned to him. The inciter was a smiling orange-haired young man, but one whom everyone in the viscountcy knew: the viscount’s frivolous heir, Rhian Ionescu.
Seeing the visage of the one who started it, others joined the applause, and cheering rose. Only then did Nveh realize the situation that he was still in, and quickly stood back up, retrieving his sword, and offering his hand to help Leon up.
“My apologies, Sir Leon. I was… overtaken, in the moment,” Nveh admitted.
“Don’t be. That was good.” Leon took his hand, stood, then put his hand on Nveh’s shoulder. “Looking forward to having you in our ranks."
Nveh acknowledged the praise, but absent-mindedly, he looked back at the one who started the cheering, unable to pull his eyes away from him.
