The road to becoming an adventurer

Chapter 5 : Blades and Bonds

Fredric and Arina had just left the bustling town of Windmond behind, the sun climbing steadily in the sky. The road stretched out before them, leading northward through a mix of rolling hills and dense woodlands. Fredric, eager to test his new sword, swung it around enthusiastically, mimicking the moves from his father's old stories.

"Careful with that," Arina called out, her tone firm yet tinged with a hint of amusement. "That sword is not a toy, Fredric. It's a tool for survival. Treat it with the respect it deserves."

Fredric halted his playful movements, his face flushing slightly with embarrassment. He lowered the blade, looking at it more thoughtfully.

"Sorry," he muttered, glancing at Arina. "I'm just excited. I've never had anything like this before."

Arina nodded, her expression softening. "I understand. But remember, every swing should be purposeful. You'll need to rely on that sword more than you know in the days to come. Let's use this time to start your training properly."

They walked for several hours, the day gradually giving way to dusk. The trees cast long shadows over the path, and the air grew cooler. Eventually, Arina decided it was time to stop for the night.

"Let's set up camp here," she suggested, pointing to a small clearing by the side of the road. Fredric nodded, setting down his pack and gathering some dry wood for a fire.

As Fredric worked to start the fire, Arina scoured the surrounding area for suitable materials to create a training dummy. She gathered a few stumps and large sticks, assembling them into a simple, yet functional figure. The crude dummy stood upright, ready for Fredric's practice.

The fire crackled to life, casting a warm glow over their makeshift camp. Fredric stood by the flames, watching Arina as she finished securing the dummy.

"This will do for now," Arina said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. She turned to Fredric, her expression serious. "Now, let's begin your training."

As the fire flickered and crackled behind them, Fredric stepped up to the makeshift training dummy, gripping his sword tightly. Arina watched him intently, her arms folded across her chest.

"Show me a few swings," Arina instructed, her voice steady.

Fredric nodded, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. He swung the sword in a few hesitant arcs, the blade cutting through the air with a faint whistle. However, his movements lacked precision and fluidity, betraying his lack of training.

Arina watched Fredric's swings with a critical eye, her brow furrowing slightly. When Fredric finished, she stepped forward, her expression unreadable.

"Your form needs work," she remarked, her tone condescending. "You're swinging too wildly, wasting energy on unnecessary movements. And your grip is all wrong."

Fredric's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he listened to Arina's critique. He had hoped for encouragement, not criticism. Nevertheless, he forced himself to remain composed, determined to learn.

"I-I'll try to do better," Fredric stammered, readjusting his grip on the sword.

Arina nodded, her gaze softening slightly. "Good. Remember, every swing should be deliberate, controlled. Focus on your breathing, and let the sword become an extension of yourself."

With Arina's guidance, Fredric resumed his practice, his movements gradually becoming more fluid and purposeful. The evening stretched on, the sound of clashing steel echoing through the quiet night as Fredric worked to master the art of swordplay.

As Fredric continued his practice, Arina's patience began to wear thin. With a sigh of frustration, she stepped forward, her movements fluid and precise, and took the sword from Fredric's hand.