Arbiter: Shadow of the Sorcerer-King

I. 2.

28 of Elaud,
Year of 1268 of the Sixteenth Cycle
Sparing Ring outside Ravenwatch

'When I entered the City of Song, my heart began to beat. It fluttered like the wings of a Motari, and for the first time in my travels I was sure I had come to the right place. The Eternal Forest had been beautiful, as had mountains of the Great Valley - and even the City of a Thousand Tents and a Thousand Swords had a certain grand majesty to it if you could ignore the sounds of fucking and fighting. But none of them had made me felt as much as a weight in my heart as the City of Song. To all the prospective wanderers of the world, take heed of my words! Visit the lands of the Motari!'
— And So I Shall Wander, p. 120.

"Demonstrate a proper Strike, Kyallan!" booms Father's voice, reverberating across the training field. I zip my sword up, leaving a small trail of brightly glowing softlight hanging in the air until the apex of my swing before swiftly hardening it, sending it slicing through the air towards Father. He frowns and batters it aside with his own blade. "That strike lacked force, Kyallan. A strike is a potent weapon in your arsenal, particularly when facing other wielders of magic. Try again."
As I raise my blade above my head, ready to execute a powerful downward strike, I suddenly see a thin blade of Hardlight hurtling towards me in a horizontal direction, meant to counter any attempt to dodge left or right. In a split-second decision, I choose to fall backwards and plant my sword into the ground to avoid being hit. The Strike whizzes above me as I use my Light in my legs and core, quickly enhancing them and pulling myself back upright. However, I find my Father's blade already at my throat.
"And thus, you are dead." He says. He takes the blade away and takes a few steps back. "Strike, Kyallan - and do it properly. Improper form leads to failure."

"And failure leads to death." I say, the memories of a year prior jumping back into my mind. He nods. "Your Strike would have been powerful - but you can have all the power of the gods, and it wouldn't matter if you left yourself wide open for a single quick cut. You tried to recover, to dodge, but you underestimated your opp-" his voice is cut off by a hacking cough, and he plants his sword into the ground and coughs up a bit of mucus onto the sand. He then looks at me, angry.
"Your opponent left you a perfect opening, and you did nothing?" He says, raising back up to his full height. "Come, Kyallan. Strike me with proper form."

I prepare myself, feeling the weight of the blade in my hand as I bring it up to a ready position. I bring my weight back onto my back leg, pulling my sword behind my back. A deep breath, and then I'm swinging my blade through the air, a trail of softlight following the tip like I'm rending the air itself. I finish, pulling the blade back up over my head as I harden the light into a sharp edge and let it cut through the air towards him, a perfect round arc. My form was perfect, precise - deliberate.
My Father smiles, and moves his guard to deflect it, holding the blade aloft but at an angle enough that it can make contact with the Strike and push it upwards - the Ochs. But I've taken another step and thrown another perfect Strike. He takes a step back, Conjuring a wide shield. My second strike crashes into the shield and slices through with ease. He stumbles back, a long gash opening in his chest.

"Good. You struck with precision and power," he says, his voice calm and steady. "Never hesitate in battle, and never fail in battle, Kyallan. Your opponent won't hesitate to strike you down." He gestures to the wound. "This wound would put me out of fighting. In the Das'en'uei, a blow like his is called an escalit - coming from the word escalate. Either I would accept defeat, or it would be considered a duel to the death. What would you have done next?"
I study my Father's stance, searching for any sign of weakness. As he recovers from the blow, I make a swift movement, transitioning from Zornhut to Wechsel guard. With this guard, I can take advantage of the situation and execute more powerful Strikes without compromising my position by entering into his Conjured weapon's range. I hold my ground, poised and ready for the next move. He nods.