Legacy (Daughter of War #2)

Chapter 3: Sword-Dancer

Music is The Song of the Sword-Dancer from The Witcher 3 OST, composed by Marcin Przybylowicz. Play it!

Media: I found Gilbert!!

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I watch two squires duel each other, wooden swords in hand, circling each other cautiously. One of them is Sam Garthy, the squire who had been on my team for the assessments, when Sir Kendrick had still been choosing his apprentice. His gangly figure and red hair stand out starkly against his opponent's stocky figure, whose shaved blond hair does little to protect his head from the fresh onslaught of falling snow. If I'm not mistaken, the other boy's name is Lorian. Or Lorien. Or something similar to that.

I was never very good at names.

They're one of the few pairs of squires who are still duelling. Most of them are already done, changing into fresh sets of woollen clothing. Perspiration renders the wool's innate properties of trapping heat useless, and thus we usually bring a few extra clothes with us onto the training field. I fold my arms across my chest, the dead branches of the tree I'm standing under casting long, spindly shadows sprawling across my feet, like thin, wretched fingers ready to pluck unassuming children out of their beds. Sometimes, one wonders why Pst. Maia had created a whole season of plunging, miserable cold.

The squires continue to circle each other for a few seconds, before lunging for each other at the same time.

Sam aims his thrust at Lorian or Lorien's abdomen, while the shorter boy slashes wildly with his wooden blade. Each weapon hits their marks, and both stagger backwards, clutching their injured areas in pain. They bare their teeth at each other, abandoning a proper stance in favour of looking more threatening instead. They succeed. Mostly. However, the fact that their stances are unbalanced makes me gnash my teeth in frustration.

They rush for each other.

To my surprise, Sam opts for a more defensive stance at the very last second, parrying a thrust away. His opponent looks just as surprised as I am, but recovers quickly and steps in for another attack. This time, Sam swings his sword and aims for Lorien's exposed left abdomen. The shorter boy dodges the blow, but is unable to get an attack in himself. They circle each other again, only to jump in and out wildly, no strategy in their moves, no poise to their form. Like animals. Animals with weapons in their hands—or paws.

Each stroke of one blade is met with the other. They go back and forth like this, lashing out with every ounce of strength they have, not bothering to conserve their energy and seek an opportune moment to strike. There's no doubt that they're excellent swordsmen, truth be told. And there is a certain unorthodox beauty in their swordplay. But fighting like that in real life would only get them cut down in the first few seconds.

I step forward, casually striding towards them. Their swords are now locked in front of them in an 'X', and they're pushing against each other hard, perspiration beading on their brows. They're so focused on the fight that they don't see me coming.

Mistake.

Even without any weapons in hand, I disarm them easily-I grab their wrists and twist hard, forcing them to drop their weapons in shock and pain. Only then do they notice that I'm right in front of them. They bow their heads in submission, looking frightened although I haven't said anything damning yet.

And you wonder why people fear you so much, Abner yawns lazily. Why shouldn't they, if you use your abilities so blatantly? They are rather intimidating, after all.

I'm trying to teach them, Abner. Now, if you would kindly go back to sleep.

I wasn't sleeping.