Blades of Grass

A Test

Then I hear a familiar voice,

"Okay, that's enough." It says,

and another replies, "As you wish my King."

And then suddenly I'm on my bed, I jump up and look to see my father and his greatest wizard Vulker,

"Wait... Father... you're alive! What happened, I thought you were all dead, what about the monster, the death of the kingdom the el..."

"It was a dream we planned."

"Wait, so all this was an illusion?"

"No," says Vulker, "an illusion is controlled by its caster, but this was a dream that was controlled by your subconscious."

I realize that Aesar was a piece of my imagination and that I would rather be with an elf than a human being.

"We did this to test your intentions and honor, and as we both saw, your intentions are good, but your execution could be better, we shall begin your intense training by sunrise, now rest well, you will certainly need it."

I fall back onto my bed with all that happened rushing in my mind, eventually I get too tired to think about it all and fall asleep.

The sound of the roosters boasting wakes me up, fortunately Sr.Reginald hasn't burst in my room telling me to stand up, I use this time to reflect on what had happened to me yesterday, it all seems weird but logical too, it was a dream after all, but how? I don't remember what happened right before that, I remember waking up and continuing my day normally and then suddenly I was in that dream. Vulker must've done something to me prior to that, like a sleeping spell or something likewise. By the time I finished thinking and remembering Aesar, Sr.Reginald opens the door and his face shows surprise after seeing me awake,

"Oh you're already up and ready to train I see, well then let's not waste any time, follow me into the armory."

He then proceeds to leave, I get up, stretch my arms and legs, and leave the room and head out to the armory. I open the door to see Sr.Reginald checking out the swords and battle axes propped up on the weapon stacks, they seem all in very good and pristine condition, even from this distance I know that a touch of this sword is even to inflict damage, I proceed further into the room and ask,

"Are these the swords we are training with today?"

"No," Replies Sr.Reginald, "these swords are too sharp for the training I intend you to have, the swords we're using today are those over there."

He then points to the other side of the room, where some wooden weapons stained with some kind of paint on the blades are thrown on the ground,

"Why those then?" I ask,

"Because we are training your reflexes and accuracy."

"But it seems that they are stained with blood, how are these swords used in simple training?"

"Those aren't blood stains, those stains are madder root paint, and they are applied to indicate where the blow would've struck, since you aren't allowed to hit your training partner, only the might of your strike allows the paint to coat their body."

"Oh, that makes sense, since we want to train our accuracy and reflexes."

"Exactly, and well it seems you missed the shields over there, because you didn't ask me about them."

The shields are also made out of wood, simple but practical against the wooden sword, but they are almost completely red. I wager that it's because of how many years have gone using these shields, and how many blows they suffered, but they seem unscathed, a skillful carpenter must've made them. Sr.Reginald hands me a wooden long sword and a shield, and steps outside toward the training court, but as I follow him, I walk by an opened door, and I can hear my father's voice saying: