Ruben: A Journey's Beginning

Chapter 4: Training Camp Tournament

    I was fighting warriors and slaying them all! Many enemies charged at me yelling, sword gripped in hand. Though when they came too close they were struck down with my blade as they fell screaming in pain! "RUBEN!" My fellow warriors cheered me on! "RUBEN!" I smiled as I drank from a goblet filled to the brim with royal wine! "RUBEN!" *CRASH* I was jolted awake from my dream and looked around my house, barely conscious. Who said my name? I looked to my left to see a frightening, bulky man before me. I began to scramble for my blade, but then the figure removed his helmet to reveal the baby face underneath. All at once I regained my memory of tomorrows journey I recognized Williams voice and features... It was well past sunrise! I was going to be so late to the cathedral! "I told you to be ready!" William backed at me. In a panic I jumped out of bed I threw on my armour sloppily and grabbed my accessories while William was continuously thrashing me. "RUBEN! We are late! We need to leave, now!" Once I grabbed my helmet he ripped it from my hands and smashed it on my head and smacked the top of it, yelling "Took ya long enough! Training starts today!" we hurriedly jogged to the meeting grounds near the same chapel from yesterday. We both arrived their at the nick of time, they were still teaching all of us newbies about sword discipline. The Templar teaching didn't stop for me or William and really didn't even seem to notice us. Not a single one of the newbies dared to turn around due to what happened just a few minutes ago. Apparently, before we'd arrived, all of them turned around to see who arrived, and when they did they were yelled at, cursed at, and a few were slapped across the face or worse. After that, not one dared glanced behind them. The lesson on sword discipline, It was really self explanatory, lasted for a couple more minutes, the Templar in the middle giving the orders. His armor was different, more prestigious as it had fashionable engravings along with small inclusions of gold. He held his decorated sword in the air, preaching of when to strike and how to strike, especially when surrounded by friendlies. "William" I whispered as the big guy bent over to hear me. "Who's that guy in the middle giving the speech?" "That, Ruben, is Sir Floki. Legendary warrior bursting with Nordic blood. One of our best, he stood by King Phillip IV as one of his best. Though he was sent here because they figured he be more useful here." After the lecture, we were then separated into multiple groups. One templar knight per four men. Unfortunately I was separated from William. Once we were equally separated the brutal "Fun" began. I was put with three others that seemed to be smaller and weaker than me and the new Templar came with us who was a little taller than me and seemed not much heavier than me. We were then told to put on our helmets and that we would be dueling one another. The Templar then told us whoever was the best fighter would duel the best at the camp, and then duel a Templar. At this point, others had already started a few screams and painful yells being let loose. Many swung their swords randomly from left to right, startling their opponents, a few more I could see inside their helmets and see that their eyes were closed tightly as they swung. Although there were some few who were experienced it seemed, they had their eyes opened, good defense, and counter attacked. Of course I was looking at everything but our Templar and missed his whole fighting explanation on how he attacks and his methods that have led him to kill dozens. The Templar looked at me and then at some other guy, "you and you" and said while pointing at us, "you will be our first of the group to duel!" I looked at the man across from me, then other three men, and then the Templar. With trembling limbs, both of us unsheathed our swords and awaited the call. "Wait hold on! I nearly forgot!" Our Templar hurriedly stated as he took out a bag that was a few feet from him. "Use these you peasants, we're trying to bruise each other, not kill. Heck, take a few fingers and toes for all I care!" He chuckled as he showed us his seven fingers. He then handed me and my opponent were extremely dull bastard swords. The wood handle wobbled constantly and the blade was so chipped and rusted I figured the blade would snap off at any moment. "Now!" The Templar yelled, regaining our attention, "This battle will determine your rank and status, and your place, and which wave of soldiers you will be in! Good luck! FIGHT!" And my opponent across from me charged while screaming and I held my dull blade and braced. *CLACK* the deafening sound of clashing metal forged together a small spark that erupted from the collision. My outstretched arm held my horizontal blade and met his vertical attack from the heavens that came crashing down, a mixture of fear and bloodlust reigned in my opponent's eyes. His blade rolled off mine and I jumped to the right and made a slash at his upper back. Though my opponent ducked and my blade few over, the force I put into it making me nearly spin. As I recovered he did not even bother to stand but instead lunged from his crouched position, placing his shoulder into my sternum causing the air and soul to be ripped from me as we both fell. Both of our swords came crashing on the dirt as we then transitioned to fist. He straddled me, laying fists of iron that rained on me as I blocked. Think Ruben! Think! My mind spun while under the volley, I could feel blood filling and oozing out of my face. "HA!" I exclaimed as I rotated myself to use my legs to press him off. I ripped off my helmet, had no use in a fist fight after all. As I stood, crisp air rushing into my lungs. Though when I turned he had already picked up both mine and his blades. Dear God help me. I went to put on my helmet again but he had already began his rush, so I threw it, rocking him in the face. Which mere seconds of him being dazed I grabbed both of his arms, tucked them together under my armpit, reached behind me and pulled my fathers blade and sliced at his neck. "HALT!" The Templar yelled at he forced us off each other. He quickly examined my foe, the thick undergarments and chain mail had protected him. With a sigh full of relief our Templar turned to me and said, "I don't think you're allowed to carry more than one blade, I'll let it slide this match but I'll be confiscating it until the tournament is over." And with that he took my blade and stuffed it into his satchel. After my adrenaline wore off the aches and pains that sprouted all over my body made themselves known as I laid on the ground in near agony. Footsteps then approached me as I gazed on my opponent who held out his hand. He pulled me up and gave me a hug, "I forgive you for going for the kill. We're all new to this. I would have done the same." And he removes his helm to reveal his own swollen face and he smiled with a dozen blooded teeth. "We need that ferocity on the front lines, I'm Anderson." "Ahh, my name is Ruben. I apologize for everything, Anderson." "No need, dear brother. Just go win for our group." And although my body hurt all over my heart felt warm to hear his comforting words. What I messed up family I am proud to be part of.