“Again.”

Alyssa heaved the wooden sword above her head once more. She had only been practicing for half an hour, and already she felt herself growing weary. The summer air gave no breeze, no reprieve from the hard work of her training. The sun beat down on her, and her face and arms glistened as she set her mind on the task at hand; the weather was the least of her concerns. She could no longer count the length of days her training had spanned; from the wet of spring to the frost of winter, in the summer sun and in the whipping winds of autumn. As long as Alyssa could remember, with whatever spare time she had after her day’s work, she toiled once again at the sword. She swung it down into nothing.

“Again.”

The word rattled through her head as her master spoke. A simple mantra that fueled her even when her strength seemed to fail her, as she felt in this moment. They had been practicing together long enough that the one word was all that was needed to push on, to persevere. She let out a grunt as her muscles flexed, and the sword was thrust down once again.

“Again.”

Alyssa gritted her teeth, her arms wavering slightly as she rigidly lifted the sword. Her arms slowly dipped, as she usually didn’t feel the effects of her exertion until the end of the session, letting the dull wooden blade down to the patchy yellow grass and giving her muscles a small, but much needed break.

“Are we nearly done with strength training,” she inquired the old man leaning on the fence to her left, “because my arms--”

Her master and guardian stood up to his full, intimidating height. He tilted his head and gave her a sideways look. “Is that a complaint I hear? Maybe if we restarted our repetitions, we could find a suitable reason to be tired?” He took a bite out of a pale, wilted apple, then spit it out in disgust. “Stupid scrawny piece of…” He waved the apple in front of Alyssa’s face, who looked past it at the man’s face, twisted in annoyance. “This… this is pig’s food. A sad excuse for a fruit.” He tossed it aside. The apple hit the fence with a dull thud, then rolled toward Alyssa’s feet, not quite reaching them before halting amid the flaxen grass. 

It had been nearly eight years since she became Caldir’s apprentice. He taught her everything he knew about smithing, from smelting techniques to making buttons and buckles, and even to forging weapons (though she knew very little on the latter subject, only from what she had seen him do, and the seemingly random morsels of information he slung her way on any given day). He had a brash air about him, and though he seemed to rub some of the townspeople the wrong way, his attitude translated well into the business of selling his metalworks. Countless people had come through Familia asking for his handiwork, and not one would dare try and cheat him or talk down to him. Even the ones who knew nothing of his past could take one look at his scarred face and imposing height, and would be dealt knowledge enough. Most dealt with him in silence or few words, for they didn’t want the quality of his work to suffer on their part in case of a misunderstanding, of which there had been few in the past.

She shook her head at his display, then turned the conversation back to the topic at hand. “You worked me to the bone today, even before we started sword practice. I just want a…” She hesitated a moment before continuing, “... a break. Just a little one?” 

Already, Caldir was shaking his head. He jabbed a sausage of a finger into his bicep. “You know how I got these muscles? From working hard, and working long. And not from taking a breather every few minutes.” Alyssa’s gaze became fixed on the ground, and Caldir ran a hand through his short, white hair. “Er, well,” he muttered as he picked up another wooden sword that had been leaning on the fence where he had been before, “I suppose we can always just move on to techniques for today. It’s not as if this will be any easier than the strength drills.” He rubbed the side of his nose and glanced away. 

Alyssa knew what this meant. The beginnings of a smile formed on her face. “Thank you,” she whispered, and she lifted her head to face Caldir, who was preparing his fighting stance. As she readied herself, she vocalized her instructions. 

“Stand your ground.” She planted her feet firmly, leaning over slightly to center her balance.

“Ready your defense.” She unslung the buckler from her shoulders and slipped her arm through it, shielding her left side. Her hand gripped the leather strap, creating a creaking sound.

“Keep your head up,” reminded Caldir. He was as still as a statue, putting his weight on his right leg. The only movement coming from his corner was his light wooden sword swaying slightly in his left hand.

They stood in silence for a moment, sizing each other up as if they were about to engage each other in actual combat. Flies buzzed nearby Alyssa’s head, and the low chatter of some townsfolk could be heard somewhere in the distance, but the duo had set their minds on one thing. This part bugged Alyssa the most; the waiting game. The battle of wits to see who would move first. She didn’t want him to catch her off guard, but she didn’t want to be utterly defeated by him once again. A minute passed, and all she could hear was her own breathing through her nose. She knew what the fourth rule was, but she knew Caldir well enough; she didn’t have to worry.

With a lunge, she swiftly moved forward and swung her sword low. A large ‘klack’ reverberated in her ears as Caldir’s wooden shield expertly blocked her strike. He did nothing, but waited for her next move. A strand of dark hair fell across Alyssa’s face, and she simply blew it aside; she didn’t dare take her eyes off her opponent. Another minute passed. No one made a move. ‘May as well be me,’ Alyssa thought, and she went for another low strike. Blocked. Another low strike. Blocked. She then feigned a third low swing, and quickly swung her sword up, briefly knocking Caldir’s sword hand to the side. An opening, finally. Her arm doubled back down, meaning to tap his leg with her sword, but Caldir had already seen it coming. He grunted loudly as he spun ninety degrees, his shield facing her, her sword swiping the empty air.

“Find your opponent’s weakness, and create an opening,” said Caldir. “You missed rule number four.” He didn’t move from his new position.

Alyssa slowly and carefully tiptoed around him to move back into a more advantageous situation. As soon as she was ready to face him again, Caldir followed suit, slowly moving around to her right. She moved with him, and they circled each other for a moment.

“I know what I was doing,” she said pointedly, “when I bashed your arm away. I created a gap; gave myself the chance to hit you.”

He chuckled, and she thought she could see a hint of pity in his eyes. “Didn’t want to wait for me to give you a chance? What did I tell you yesterday?”

Alyssa was starting to get dizzy. Not wanting her movements to accidentally hold herself back, she stopped suddenly, and saw him drop his shield a fraction of an inch in surprise. Seeing the opportunity, she stepped forward and bashed her shield against his and pushed it to the side. She began to bring her sword down on his chest, but there was another loud ‘klack’, and she looked up at her sword hand and saw that Caldir had blocked her with his own sword. ‘How did he do that so quickly?’ she wondered, but her thoughts were cut off by a strong shove back from her mentor. She stumbled backwards, and nearly lost her footing in the process.

“Find your opponent’s weakness, and create an opening,” repeated Caldir, shaking his head once again as he slowly approached her. “If you knew my weakness, where would you be looking to hit? Were you looking for it?”

Gathering her wits, Alyssa’s heart sank. She knew his weakness, of course, but she wasn’t about to hit his bad leg, not even for the sake of practice. “I already know your weakness,” she said, panting for breath and stepping back as he drew closer. ‘Why couldn’t he see,’ her mind screamed, ‘I’m following his instructions! I’m right!’ Clumsily, she drew up her shield and sword once again, staring Caldir in the face as he loomed over her. “I… I created an opening, though…” 

He stopped his advance and went back to his statue-still battle stance. “You created an opening, yes, but not by exploiting my weakness.” Gently, Caldir let his shield slip from his arm, letting it fall to the ground. “You’re too familiar with me, sweet.” Alyssa was stunned by this sudden display of vulnerability; so stunned that she was too late when his leg swept around and knocked her own legs out from under her. She laid sprawled on her back, and Caldir already had his knee on her chest, his false knife to her throat. “You’re too familiar with me,” he reiterated before getting up to his feet with a loud grunt, “don’t let that be your downfall.”