Returning Home

Three for Three and an Unexpected

"Instructor Rowle, you wished to speak with me?" She waited until she heard the door click shut before speaking.

"Class is over, Thorfinn or Rowle please." He moved from behind the desk to come to the front and sit on it. "Who have you trained with before?"

"No one." She answered honestly. "I'm self taught. Unless you count the tips and pointers from my grandparents portraits."

He hummed and looked out of a window off to the side as he spoke, seeming to relive the past as for the first time that day she saw emotions flicker through his eyes. "I've only ever known one other who showed such a natural talent. It wasn't anyone I ever taught, but rather someone I learned with. I have a suspicion you knew him as well."

The comment piqued her interest. "I'm sorry sir, but I doubt that." He looked to be around the same age as most of her friends parents. Who could she have known that he would've learned with?

"No? It must be coincidence then, that you share the same eyes." He turned now to face her again, regret in his eyes.

Time stood still for her in that moment as her heart hammered away in her chest. She slammed her mask fully into place while her emotions ran wild inside of her. The only ones she knew who had known her father as a child were her grandparents, but Rowle said that he had learned with him. That must mean that they had studied with the same instructor, just like she was doing with her friends now. She knew that her father had been an accomplished duelist, the study she refused to open was lined with trophies to prove it. Had they competed against each other? Who had won more often than the other? Was this man one of her father's earliest friends? What could she learn about one of the biggest holes in her heart from him?

"You... you knew him?" As much as she tried she couldn't hide the emotions in her voice as she did her face.

"Lord Alfred Peverell remains to this day, the only man who could ever beat me in a duel. I knew him from the time he was your age. We studied together, under your grandfather." Her eyes stung as she faced him, he had known her father and her grandfather... he had memories she would give anything for. And much to her relief, he held no pity in his eyes as he looked at her.

"He's never mentioned taking on any students." She looked away now, too afraid she would cry if she kept eye contact with him.

"He's missed eight years of your life Gwyn. Along with sharing the loss of your father with you. I doubt he wants to talk about teaching a punk kid who could only focus on competing with his son." His tone was gentle as she barked out a laugh and her tears came silently.

"And who won mostly?" She couldn't deny this curiosity to know.

"Back then? Mostly your grandfather. In dueling competitions, always your father. Always. His wand was another limb for him. Dueling came as easy as breathing." His tone turned fond as he reminisced.

"A lot of good it did him that night." She couldn't help the bitterness in her whisper. She knew there was no way he was bested in a fair duel, that something else must have happened. But who could blame her for the bitterness she felt? She had lost so much and any time she was forced to acknowledge it she became bitter to avoid the pain.

"Do you know why I crop my hair unlike the other Lords, Gwyn?" His shift in tone caused her to look up at him and shake her head no. She had noticed but didn't think there had been any particular reason as to why. "For him. We both, your father and I, were very proud of our hair as are most Lords. We promised each other, the day we became more friend than rival, that if anything happened to the other we would cut it and never allow it to grow again. We were fifteen at the time. I never forgot. That next morning when I got the news I shaved it all off, I tried to reach the castle. When I couldn't I feared the worst for you and started looking. I never stopped looking. Imagine my surprise when I saw you here today."