Private tutoring

Cain sat on the stone steps leading into the sparring grounds. It had been four days since Cain received his beating from Eleni. Luckily, he was feeling a lot better, healing faster than Instructor Bela expected. The swelling on his arms and legs had mostly receded, a healthy beige returning to his skin. Even the bump on his head had reduced in size. Now, it was barely noticeable. He had also removed his conspicuous neck brace. He no longer received confused stares from members of other squadrons.

Cain watched the others training with Sir Bradforth. He had slowly began introducing basic strikes. Slashes, stabs. He watched as the Inductees swung their swords repeatedly.

As he wasn't participating himself, he was able to properly observe his peers. Eleni was brilliant as always. There wasn't much else to say about her skill. Although she was forced to use her offhand to train, she didn't show any signs of letting up. Jorn was also looking scarier by the day. His physique and strength gave him an incredible advantage over the others. Adding finesse to his technique would create a monster Cain would prefer not to face. The others were also progressing quickly. It was impressive the speed at which everyone was absorbing Sir Bradforth's lessons. But Cain was focused on one particular Inductee. Horrow vir Fabii.

Cain didn't know what to make of him. After observing him over the past few days, he realized something interesting. Horrow had been holding back. He watched Horrow almost lazily swing his sword, not putting in real effort. It was just noticeable. He watched his core, his shoulders. Horrow's grip was slightly lose, his gaze unfocused. Horrow himself had said that he had been trained before. As a noble of a Patrician family, his show of skill was evidently lacking. He knew that he must have had trained regularly; he remembered seeing callouses on Horrow's hands. Cain was sure Sir Bradforth had also realized, but wasn't sure why he didn't point it out.

To be honest, Horrow's behavior slightly angered Cain. They were all training hard to improve and survive through their service. Yet he was half assing it. Horrow had confessed he had no interest in the martial arts. But neither did Cain. Or any of the other Inductees. Except for Eleni of course. Maybe Jorn.

Either way, they were all forced into the Institute whether they liked it or not. While Horrow was sent here from the central continent, it didn't mean he was exempt from serving at the Line. And a weak soldier was a liability not only to himself, but his teammates. That was one lesson Head Instructor Junpar had drilled into them since her first lesson.

The Inductees stopped swinging their swords at Sir Bradforth's command. They were to take a short ten minute break before continuing. Horrow came and sat by Cain, barely sweating.

Cain stared at Horrow. Seemingly uncomfortable by Cain's suddens interest, he gave him a nervous smile.

Cain sighed. He couldn't bring himself to be angry at the young noble. He clearly didn't mean any harm. He was kind and honest. That was something Cain respected. Even though his lack of effort was a problem, Cain was in no position to chastise him.

"How are your injuries?"

"They're a lot better now. I should be able to join you by tomorrow. I've missed out on enough training."

"I see, that's good."

They sat in silence for the rest of the short break. The Inductees soon resumed training. Cain continued watching closely.

As for now, he was far behind his squad mates. As he wasn't allowed to participate in training, he had resorted to diligently taking notes on Sir Bradforth and Head Instructor Junpar's lessons. Though, theory could only take him so far. The basics were something that couldn't be overlooked. He would have to make up for lost training in his own time. Which was exactly what he planned to do that night. While he wasn't officially supposed to participate in any physical activity until tomorrow, he couldn't wait any longer. He just had to make sure he wasn't caught.

...

Cain proceeded to stretch on the dirt floor of the sparring grounds. Eleni stood not too far away, doing her own warmups.

The day had been fairly uneventful. Head Instructor Junpar had taught them a new formation that the Inductees were to practice. Red Squadron was looking more and more like a cohesive unit.

Head Instructor Neptune had gone more in depth about the Empire's early history. Cain had learned of pivotal battles, clever generals, and commonly used war strategy. Brother Haggerty's lesson was the same. Commune with Fa and try to harness the Blessing.

Now, Cain was preparing to train with Eleni. The sun was setting, the temperature slowly dropping. While he had inducted early in the winter, it hadn't been too cold. Everyday the weather became more unbearable.

I wonder if they'll provide us with thicker winter clothing. Unless they want us all to freeze to death.

Winter was especially harsh this far into the north. The cold winter winds from the north rolled down the mountains directly towards the Institute. Cain remembered how hard it was trying to get by at the orphanage during the later months of the year. Insulation was not a temple's strong point.

Why couldn't my real parents have abandoned me further south? Somewhere more temperate?

Eleni spun her sword in her left hand, ready to begin. Cain finished off his stretches. He rolled his left shoulder, sword in his right hand.

"You ready to begin Cain?"

"Yes."

The training would be fairly simple. They would have a light technical spar. Nothing like their first one. Eleni claimed that hurting her dominant hand was a blessing in disguise. It gave her the perfect excuse to practice with her offhand. This way, she would be better prepared for a scenario where she would have to fight injured. Cain on the other hand would simply have the opportunity to fight a more skilled opponent. Sir Bradforth said that watching better fighters fight was one of the best ways to learn. So how much more helpful would sparring with one be?

Once they were done, they were to give each other suggestions on what to do and not to do. Although it would mostly be Eleni correcting Cain.

They both bowed, making their Prayers. Cold wind blew across the grounds. Cain suppressed a shiver.

Eleni stood still, baiting Cain into attacking. She promised to use as little speed and strength as possible. Technique would be the name of the game.

Cain dashed in, closing the distance. While he was the taller fighter, he realized his reach was similar to Eleni's. To his dismay, he would have to get within her range to land his own strikes.

He opened with a standard strike: a simple diagonal cleave to the torso. Eleni didn't even bother parrying. She simply slipped to the side, just barely evading his blow. She then feinted high. Cain raised his sword to block and then ate a stinging blow to his calf.

Eleni disengaged, clicking her tongue.

"Cain, one thing I realized is that you're smarter than you look. You have a good head on top of those skinny shoulders. But your movements are too honest. While your previous stunt against me was fantastic, it's too risky. Fail like you did and your opponent won't just kick back your sword like me."

They circled each other. Cain kept his ears open. Criticism was key to improving as a fighter.

"You must find the middle ground. Nothing too crazy, nothing too mundane. Also, learn to use your strengths against your opponent. Much to my disliking, you have a marginal weight and height advantage. That means strikes from above, beyond my line of sight, would be effective. Also, if the opportunity presents itself, use your weight to add power to your strikes."

Cain nodded.

"I am clearly more skilled than you in swordsmanship. So make it a dogfight, not a duel."

She's a much better teacher than I thought she'd be.

Eleni gestured to continue. This time, Cain attempted to put her advice into practice. Cain approached Eleni again, but this time did not engage immediately. He feinted high just as Eleni had and the struck low. She blocked, but Cain wasn't finished.

He struck again, this time a blow towards her stomach. She didn't have the time to parry, simply blocking with her blade. Next, he slashed at her arm. She seemed to move her sword to interrupt, but it was a feint. He switched the sword's trajectory last second into a stab directly at her face. But again, his sword never reached her.

"Better, but still too honest. In order for your opponent to bite on a feint, your feint must actually pose a threat to your opponent. Your opponent will not respect your feint until you make her do so. Also, don't just flick your sword out. Make it more convincing."

Cain continued sparring with Eleni, her picking out his plenty mistakes and giving crucial advice.

"Don't overextend! You're thinking too much, don't give your opponent space! It's good that your incorporating feints, but your attacks are too one dimensional! Use your weight! Why are you scared to commit to your attacks?"

By the end of their training, Cain lay on the floor. He was beat up and bruised, but not even close to the extent of last time's spar. Eleni was slightly out of breath. Although it was highly likely that it was because she had been screaming at him the entire time.

Cain had learned a lot. Eleni was probably exactly the thing Cain needed to get back on track. While he had few tools within his swordplay arsenal, he had already gotten a lot better at using what he had available to him. At this rate, it wouldn't take him too long to reach the other Inductees' levels. Add more skills from his training on top of that, and he would actually turn out to be a decent fighter. At least he would be able to protect himself.

Eleni took a seat next to Cain, watching his chest rise and fall.

"Let me say one more thing. Sparring is incredibly important. Applying the techniques you learn in training is paramount in creating a skilled fighter. But another important thing is finding your style. You can probably guess mine. I use aggression and technique to corner my opponents. My stamina and speed are my greatest strengths. I use it to overwhelm my opponents with precise blows. Even if my opponent manages to block my attacks, I attack in such a way that at the end of my salvos their swords are not in a position to launch a counterattack. That is my style."

She stared at the starry night sky, a somber expression on her face. Cain watched her, wondering what she had to do to attain such strength and wisdom at a young age.

"But do you want to know what I believe to be the most important aspect of a strong fighter? Their mentality. In order to truly become strong, one must be willing to sacrifice. To give it their all. That is the difference between a good fighter and a great one.

"No amount of technique, experience, or effort will help a swordsman if he is hesitant, unsure. Find your purpose. Why is it you fight?"

Cain deeply pondered her question. He turned away, joining her in staring at the heavens. He knew he wanted to live a quiet life of peace. But to what lengths was he willing to go to do so?