An Aimless War (Greatest Thief 2)

Bonus - The Reasons to Enlist - Duty

Ten years before An Aimless War

"Atricen! What have I always told you about pulling out that knife during a fight?"

"That it isn't respectable," Acen replied dutifully, but he didn't let the matter drop, he never did. "I don't understand, father. You say that the lords won't trust me if I'm not fighting 'properly', but if using my knife saves a lord's life, will he really care that it isn't respectable?"

Acen's father stood across from him in the small courtyard. It was supposed to be their last duel, a father and son bonding moment before Acen was sent off to join the army. It wasn't surprising that they had started bickering. Acen had been training his whole life, and he was just as good, if not already better, than his father. However, where the older lord loved all the spoken and unspoken rules about fighting, Acen didn't see the point. When it came down to it, he thought that being able to defeat his opponent was more important than following the rules and dying because of them.

"Atricen, who are you?"

Acen knew what his father was getting at, he'd heard it all before. "Lord Atricen from West Draulin, second child to Lord Atrick, never going to inherit anything because Aveya's getting it all."

Lord Atrick glossed over the jab at his daughter and said, "and?"

"And a knight, one day."

"And knights fight like knights. I haven't been training you your whole life for you to turn around and fight like some farmer's boy. You're a lord, Atricen. So you must act like one."

"But it doesn't make sense," Acen said. "Why should we all fight the same way? Everybody has different strengths and weaknesses and wouldn't it be more effective to play to them? If I was one of the big lords, I'd appreciate it if my guards fought to the best of their abilities instead of being chivalrous towards the people attacking me."

"If you were one of the big lords, you could hire those people," Lord Atrick said. "But you aren't. Now, put it away and let's get back to fighting like gentlemen."

Acen slipped the knife back into its little sheath and held up his dull duelling sword. He attacked first, suddenly, and in moments had knocked his father's sword to the ground. He stepped back to allow his father to retrieve the sword. Duelling was boring. It was the same patterns, the same movements, over and over again. Acen doubted that a real enemy would stick to the arrangements. Anyone who was desperate to kill someone would do whatever it took. His father had never seen a real battle. He looked at fighting like a gentlemanly sport. Acen rolled his shoulders and held up his sword again, but his father shook his head.

"No, Atricen. We're done for now. You're clearly ready. Now tell me, when we go meet Lord West Draulin tomorrow, what you going to tell him?"

Acen slipped his sword under his belt to free up his hands. "That I'd like to be a knight."

Lord Atrick nodded. "And next year?"

Acen sighed and repeated the words he'd said time and time again. "I'll put myself forth for Lord Tandrix's guard tryouts." Then he went off script. "Although, there will be plenty of talented men trying out. I don't think we can assume I'll be chosen. Let alone becoming the guard captain."

"Nonsense. Our family has been closely serving the Tandrans for centuries. You'll be chosen," Lord Atrick said. "And you'll become the captain. This time next year you'll be one of the most famous knights in the city. You'll do our family proud."

A new voice cut in. "What about me?"

Acen turned, delighted to see his uncle leaning in the doorway. Sir Atricell was a knight, and one of Acen's idols. Usually he wore city armour, but today he was dressed more casually. Still, he had a sword hanging from his hip.