Mortance: A Miscarriage of Hope

Angus Ⅲ

"Keep your feet planted," Ser Robert instructed. "Put all your weight into it."

"I am," I insisted.

"Would that you were, but Ser Fred is still standing. Try again."

Ser Fred's steel blade rang loudly against the white ryn of Supremacy as we practiced again. Ser Robert had been training us together since we'd gotten to Elsinct. Three days, we'd been here, three days we'd been training, but I didn't feel any better than before. "It will take more time," Ser Robert had said. How many more days will that be? War is coming. My time to train is finite.

We'd arrived at this village in the morning, called Entree. Flora had left us to our own devices. The elven general said we were to meet up with Ford, the general who defended the southern border, and he would journey the rest of the way to Shali with us. Ser Arthur was to fetch us when he arrived.

But General Ford of Elsinct was not here yet, and that left me nothing to do but train. I could treat with the elves, I shuddered at the thought. No matter how many treaties or pacts were made, the elves would be our enemies until the hero rose up and brought them to their knees. I was going to do just that after the fall of Viri.

No matter how many times Ser Fred defeated me in training, I was the hero. I was the one who would take Supremacy and lead Sacreon to victory. I was the one who would finish what Richard the Conqueror started when he first rebelled. So why can I not even win a simple sword fight?

As always, I defended against every strike Ser Fred sent my way, and when the time came for the killing blow, I failed to deliver. The blow was delivered with planted feet, and all the force I could muster behind it. It should've been enough to knock the blade from my opponent's hand. Instead, Ser Fred took it in stride and knocked Supremacy to the ground.

"You lost," Ser Robert said.

"Really?"

"Sarcasm will do you no help, your grace."

"I did as you instructed," I said. "Planted my feet. I put all my power into that last swing."

"Ser Fred?"

"He did, ser," the knight said. "It would've disarmed me if I hadn't been ready for it."

"You were ready for it?"

"I was," Ser Fred brushed his shaggy brown hair out of his face. "If I may, ser."

"Go ahead."

"Perhaps we should find another way for that final strike not to fail. There must be some way."

"Perhaps," Ser Robert frowned. "Fight again. Let me watch more closely."

I picked the ancient white sword of Richard the Conqueror up from the dirt. Ser Fred flexed his sword hand and dropped into a guard position across from me. I mirrored his actions. We squared off, ready to fight again, but a sudden arrival interrupted us.

"Your highness," Ser Arthur was breathless. "Sers."

"Ser Arthur," Ser Robert greeted him courteously.

"Summons for his excellency," the younger knight said once he had caught his breath. "General Ford has arrived."

"So he has," I said. As if there were any other reason I'd want you to come. "Tell him and Flora I'll be there soon."

"As you say, your highness," Ser Arthur nodded and left.

"We'd best not take much longer," Ser Robert said. "I've dealt with elves in my day. They don't like to be kept waiting."