Harlea followed through a long arching slice with his axe before twisting around to face the, With a clap of his hands, he began, “So, we are in Coalpass; a little town in the back end of nowhere in the Nohlan lands but it’s now famous for being Wilded. The whole place is a couple hundred folk sitting on the river with only one bridge connecting the two sides of the town. As soon as we got into the Wild plains surrounding the village, it was creepy. From, well, yeah Wild Magic.”

Ellen waited for the other three to stop before she eased back on her own form. Circling through the swings and blocks of her Shield forms were easy and she let herself focus on Harlea as he talked.

“We snuck in at the dead of night after a whole day of trying to find a way in. We should’ve waited but the moon was out and we could see enough, we thought. Tell you what though, it was such a fu-lipping stupid idea. The entire place was more Wilded than anything I’ve seen before; even the air was filled with a blood-red fog that made your skin itch. As we got closer to the town, the moon went red as well and the monsters were everywhere, glistening in the low light, no clue why.”

“Wild magic can often create a shimmer as it dissipates.” Viera noted from the side of the group.

“Right. It was so creepy. Most of them were coated in blood and they’d mutated with long mouths like crocodiles and handfuls of scales around their bodies. It’s common for the Wilds to change folk after a while but some of them were way far gone.”

Ellen shuddered at the thought. The Wild lands were the stuff of nightmares for the children of the north. Wild Magic was an aberration, appearing at any time to desecrate anything and anyone that were unlucky enough to be caught in its tempest.

“Once we got into the town proper, all nine broke loose and we ended up having to fight them the whole way through. My crew are as good as they come but monsters beyond what I can even describe were on us the entire time.” Harlea worked himself into a fervour as explained, hands waving as he went, “I shouldn’t even be here, truth be told, with a giant of a man knocking me unconscious halfway through the town. He was massive, well over twice my size.”

Reaching his hand up above his head, Harlea stretched as far as he could as he chuckled about his near-death experience. With a sudden wince, Harlea reached back down and rubbed his nose, “I almost pooed my pants when I woke up and found my head between the giant's feet, looking right up his pipes. All sorts of foul stuff was -”

“Harlea,” Viera warned gently next to him.

“Yes, I ahh, then I was fine. Other stuff happened but all four of us all made it out in one piece.” Harlea shot a guilty look across to Viera, “The contracts we will go on will be a piece of cake, though.”

Wosche made a small groan at the idea and Harlea gave him a look, “Well, fun piece of cake and a ton of stuff can still go wrong, even on copper contracts. I mean, you know, what with the rats in that barn misadventure y’all had, ha.”

“Harlea.” Viera stated more firmly, “And that is the end of story time.”

“Right, good idea.” Harlea agreed, moving back to his bench to put his axes back, “I’m excited to see you folk fight.”

Viera shook her head as she followed him back to the front of the patio, “Finish the form you are on and do not forget, stories like Harlea’s what you are training for. Contracts are not for the faint of heart and the threats to our country can come in many shapes and forms. When I agreed to tutor you all, it was so that I could prepare you for the challenges that will threaten our Houses in the years to come.”

Ellen started up halfway through her second form again, skipping the first section and only half-committing as her eyes were glued on Viera and Harlea who were sharing a quiet word.

Whatever Viera had said caused Harlea to argue back for a moment before he moved away from her.

For a moment, anger flashed over Viera’s face before her composure returned. Turning back to face them, Viera began addressing them all again, “Harlea will be focussing on helping you become who you need to be for the future of our proud country. He and his adventurers have done things that not even the elite of the High Guard could and that includes the destruction of the Wild Node of Coalpass.”

The idea reinvigorated Ellen, spurring her onwards through her movements with scenes of her in the Queen’s High Guard running through her head. Becoming the Lead student in the Exams at the end of schooling was the direct path to the High Guard but she’d ruined that option for herself with her damned anger.

“Eyes will be on you in the Autumn Festival Tournament and I expect all four of you to be on show . As your re-introduction to the courts, it is important that we show them that you are not some cowed noblings who have been coddled in their time in the south.”

Ellen let out a snicker at the idea. Of all the ways to describe her last few months of training, the last word Ellen would think of was coddled. Day in day out, Viera had pushed them, with all but a few hours of their day being accounted for with their training, tutoring, or study.

Without a doubt in her mind, Ellen had never trained harder than she had for the tournament. Viera had promised them they’d be pushed harder than ever been before by the best tutors they’d ever met. Ellen could vouch for the brutal training but so far nearly every training was dominated by Thredrin and his grating attitude.

Finishing her second form came quickly as Ellen’s body moved autonomously. The third form came to her with ease and Ellen moved into the third form’s opening shuffle. The nostalgia she felt as her guard shifted as she pretended to block and strike was palpable, with the gentle summer days when her grandmother came to visit.

Living well into her nineties, she was sharp as a tack up until she died, always with something to say about Ellen’s posture or her father’s housecraft.  As much as putting up with her constant criticism frustrated Ellen, seeing her father restrain himself whenever his mother would notice dust on a shelf or a gutter that was in disrepair.

A shield sweeping in from her periphery, Ellen found Harlea working through forms once more, this time going through the fourth form of Shield with one of the spare swords and bucklers. Watching him go through the rapid movements of the fourth form was an assuaging feeling. Each move was technically the correct strikes and blocks but they were far too floaty as he danced through the different steps and position shifts. Too much axe-work was Ellen’s prognosis as she kept up the pace on her own forms.

Third form moved into fourth as Ellen kept working, trying to focus on perfecting her own technique as Harlea finished his run on the Shield form. The theory for the fourth form was to protect against multiple opponents and required rapid blocks, steps, and twists between the flurry of strikes and the odd kick. Even warm, it took a lot of energy as Ellen tried to ensure she was moving solidly as she progressed.

Being too graceful had its downsides was Ellen’s conclusion as she resumed watching him. He was old but lithe as he danced through large cuts and slashes that she didn’t recognise. Working through a large section of the patio as he attacked, he weaved strikes between different positions with both his sword and shield being used for both defense and offense.

A wave of trepidation hit Ellen as she stared at him. Far too erratic for her tastes, whatever form he was running through was foreign to her and much too distasteful for any shieldbreaker to entertain as real technique.

Having lived and breathed the values of a shieldbreaker since she was a child, it was hard to watch as Harlea extended his shield out from his body’s centre with abandon. Unbridled and reckless, Ellen knew there was something off about watching Harlea do his forms.

“It’s a southern form, I bet.” Wosche commented next to her, “It looks positively savage.”

“Must be.” Ellen replied in a hushed tone, “I don’t know how it would hold up in battle.”

“How well would any of the forms?” Wosche grinned mischievously next to her, staff idle in his hand.

“Have you already finished your forms?” Ellen worked through her forms, using one of her pivots to get a better look at Wosche as he loitered near her.

Wosche cringed at the idea, “The first two are. But I’m warm now.”

“Oh, how awful.” Ellen scolded him as she progressed through her third form. Around the patio, everyone watched Harlea as he leapt and bounded through his moves, with only Riu still continuing to pretend to do her form.

The patio glowed a warm glow from the lanterns as the sun disappeared for the night and Ellen felt her blood rush as she pushed ahead. The horizon began to disappear into the night behind Harlea and a wave of elation shot through her as she thought about just how different the two fighting styles were for North and South Shield. Someday, she’d go out beyond the horizon, meeting folks just as mad as the barbarian in front of her and seeing things even more insane than their shieldbreaking.

The cool wind brushed delicately past her as she finished her third form. Before that someday was Darkhold and the Autumn Tournament. Four days and she would be back in the thick of the courts and she’d see her parents once more.

Her throat tightened at the idea. Entering mixed weapons was the right choice for the tournament. The sword tournaments were bastard or longsword, two blades she had no interest in and there was more acclaim in being the best against every weapon. Being the tournament champion for mixed weapons was something that could get House Leads to pay attention, even if it was only the youth tournament.

“Alright, children.” Viera clicked her fingers and waved for their attention, “Sparring time. Teon with Riu and Wosche with Ellen. Come now.”

Ellen spun around to search for Wosche. She found him grinning at her, “Let’s go, tiny dancer.”

“You got it.” Ellen said happily moving towards him.

“Spar for bouts of three points and change weapons every five rounds. No stopping unless myself or Harlea stop you and remember, I want to see fire.” Viera finished with a flourish, using a bijou in her hand to shoot a jet of fire into the sky.

Ellen joined the others in applause and moved into the sparring position. Everyone shifted in the patio, with Harlea returning to sit on his bench as Teon and Riu readied themselves. Over near the gear, Wosche was rummaging through his bag, with his staff now sitting at his feet and a shield in his left hand. Producing a sword and standing up, he jogged back over to her, “Bit of shield play to start us off.”

“Scared to go with the staff?” Ellen smirked as she set herself into the start position.

“Going staff with that look in your eye? No, thank you.” Wosche stopped roughly five steps from her and two steps from where he was meant to start, “I’ll let you take your anger out on the shield.”

“We’ll see,” Ellen tapped her shield to begin the round, “I don’t plan on striking your shield much.”

Wosche tapped his shield in response and brought his guard up, “Give me your worst then.”

Only too happy to oblige, Ellen took the first step forward to meet him. His range was similar to hers and she could trust that he would blink first if he had a shield.

All that was needed was time. A half-step to her left, Ellen watched as Wosche mirrored her in make-shift arena. Only a thin chalk line marked where they were allowed to fight but Ellen knew the perimeter well. Seven steps in diameter, there was enough space to disengage and maneuver and she had faced Wosche many times in the same confines with a variety of different weapons.

But sword and board were her favourites and they both knew it. As she circled her opponent, she spiralled a few inches closer, gauging the distance to see if she could get a jab through his guard at any time. As reliable as ever, Wosche was a right hander and his posture shifted to show it. After so many years fencing, his centre of balance craved being a half-step back and Ellen just needed to wait for his subconscious to expose him.

Wosche leapt into the space between them with a vicious jab but Ellen met him easily. Checking the tip of his sword with her shield, she shifted to the left to try to work her own jab past his guard to find his stomach.

Compensating with a quick lurch backwards, Wosche flicked his shield back to his centre and smacked her sword away. His reaction was desperate and Ellen happily pushed the advantage, stepping in with her shield close to her side. Her feet shuffled forwards and she checked him with the front of her shield.

The impact caught Wosche off-guard and panic gripped him as Ellen’s shield denied him any space. Ellen’s sword clattered against his shield and rebounded as she watched his side for any spot she could strike through.

With a neat twist and a lightning-quick slash, Wosche rotated to her left and found refuge in her shield side. Ellen met the strike with her shield and relented, pulling two steps back. Even if she didn't manage to get the point she deserved for outmaneuvering him, she was confident the time would come.

A distance of two steps grew between them as they set their guards once more. Just out of her reach, Wosche instinctively switched his feet positions, eager to find a way to strike at her. With her shield at her side, she welcomed his attempt for all the good it would do him.

Breathing heavily, Wosche stayed his hand and gave her a large smile, “So, do you think they are as good as they say?

“Huh?” Ellen twirled her sword and continued to circle the arena.

“Hah,” Wosche copied her to keep his distance, “The Red Damnables. Do you think they are as good as they say?”

“I haven’t heard of them much before we came down here.” Ellen shrugged and increased the distance another half-step between them.

“Ellen,” Wosche gave her a look of surprise and dropped his shield out of guard slightly, “We talk about them every day. Hells, I haven’t shut up about them all week.”

Ellen hopped forward to close the distance and smacked the front of his shield before she hopping back to a safer distance.

Wosche reacted slowly as his shield covered his midline. With a half step back, he scowled at her, “Jerk.”

Ellen shrugged and showed her centre for a split second. She watched Wosche carefully but couldn’t see any inclination that he would take up the faux opening.

“But you seriously aren’t impressed by what they did in the northern wastes against Mevikia?” Wosche asked her as he began to circle her again, “And the stories of them fighting an entire hoard of ursa by themselves?”

“Yeah, it is incredible.” Ellen admitted.

She’d heard of a few of their exploits. Apparently, they had created an avalanche that had taken out an invading army of ursa high up in the Neck. And there was the story of how they’d single handedly defeated the Warlord Elrik’s forces far out in the northern wastes during their siege of Fort Constance. So many of their stories beggared belief and Ellen had too much to do to be worried about adventurers and their tall tales. Beginning her spiral towards Wosche again, Ellen welcomed how invested he was in the conversation, “I am just dubious about how much of it is real.”

“Wow.” Wosche went in to rush again, twisting to the side as he tried to sneak a thrust through her guard before she was ready.

Ellen met it on her shield and shifted to his right. Two fast steps in and Ellen forced her way into the space between his centreline and out-of-position shield. One more shuffle and her shield in place to catch any response from his sword, Ellen had enough room to work a backslice through Wosche’s waist, from his left leg to his stomach. Continuing with the momentum, Ellen bashed him backwards before hopping away happily.

Two paces away, she turned to find him standing opposite her with an unimpressed look on his face, “Damn.”

“Nearly,” Ellen offered, “I saw the jab coming.”

“Yeah, sure.” Wosche grumbled as he moved back to his position for their next bout.

Ellen got back to her spot and brought up her guard again, “Shall we start, Msr. GrenPolm?”

Wosche tapped his shield and came in towards her almost immediately. He faked a strike and watched eagerly to see if she was foolish enough to take his bait.

Ellen shifted slightly in but didn’t react to his half-assed swing. She gauged the distance until they were a half-step away and then bided her time.

She could wait him out. With his habit of overreaching with his sword, there were always enough openings for her to get past his guard. After sparring with Wosche for years, she knew how much he loved trying to play in the dead space of a fight.

Wosche’s feet set and he dropped his shield again, signalling another advance. He came forward and Ellen backed away, conceding space and watching as he twisted at his hips to bridge the space between them. She let his sword strike the front of her shield and propped back, waiting for him to come too close.

Sensing the trap, Wosche chose not to engage but instead pulled his shield back to his midline and took a step back, “No no no, I am no fool.”

“Debatable,” Ellen retorted back and moved to her right to circle him, “ but you’re in my arena now.”

Wosche’s eyes followed her as they rotated. He was slow in his circle and left his right too open.

Closing in again, Ellen parried his reflexive jab and found his shield blocking the majority of mis midline in response.

Flicking her sword up from her parry, she brought it down hard on Wosche’s shoulder with a thwack, “Hah!”

Wosche let out a yelp and shoulder checked her to get her back out of his range, “Damn, El!”

Ellen retreated with a chuckle and rounded her way back to her mark, “What can I say, you better watch that guard.”

“Perhaps we both do staves next, yeah? See how you like it.” Wosche gave her a filthy look, “Right in the shoulder.”

Ellen watched him while he put the appropriate distance between them to set the next round. To his side, Harlea now stood with his arms crossed and watched them silently.

Ellen brought her shield up and chose to move her right this time, watching Wosche shift back to compensate. His shield came to face her but his feet betrayed him again, with his sword following his right foot as it set itself half a step too far back.

“Stop.” Harlea ordered them sternly and Ellen planted her feet in place.

Harlea strode in towards Wosche and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders. He forced Wosche back to face the front and tutted, “You’re coming one second and going the next, you are spotting the right weaknesses but then doing this little pissy dance rather than pushing her strong. And this twist to the side nonsense, none of that. You are practising shield, so be a shield.”

Harlea grabbed Wosche’s shield and forced it into guard, “This is where your shield lives and it is always facing the enemy, never your side. I don’t care if you spot the juiciest soft spot, your shield isn’t just for you. It is a wall for your companions and you can’t let it wave around when you’re in a scrap.”

Wosche nodded, opened his mouth but stopped as Harlea held up his finger and continued, “And you have size on you and she is pushing you all around the ring. You don’t want to use the shield, fine. But don’t half learn the weapon or you’ll end up screwing up all your fighting.”

Wosche’s brow furrowed and he went silent for a minute. Harlea stood in front of him and waited until he was ready to speak. Looking Harlea dead in the eye, Wosche responded with a rare weight to his words, “I got none of what you just said.”

Harlea sighed and ran his fingers through his beard before he replied, “Learn to think like a shield and you can learn to beat them, which is valuable to you. But don’t shift your stance when you fight if you are fighting with a shield. Every so often, you turn to your side like you have a foil, not a short sword, and Ellen is waiting for that mistake to get easy points off you. Also, if you decide to act, then act. You are reading the fight correctly but you rely on being much faster than your opponent and the fact of the matter is that Ellen is nearly as fast as you are.”

Wosche nodded along and shuffled his shield up his forearm before setting it back into guard where Harlea showed him, “Right. Ok, I can do that.”

“Good lad.” Harlea tapped him on the shoulder and moved back to the edge of the arena, “Right, go on then.”

Wosche returned to his spot with a rare look of determination painted on his face. With a tap on the front of his shield, he waited for her to signal back to him.

Ellen set herself up again, took a breath and tapped her shield, “Alright then, ready?”

His response came fast and furious as he charged straight towards her. Shield up and a jab on her left side, Wosche forced her to the right as she stepped back to avoid his assault. With a jab in response, Ellen tried to find an opening in the limited time he gave her. Her shield was set at least and and rotated to the right to keep her shield between them.

Another of Wosche’s strikes reverberated through Ellen’s shield and she strafed to her right, focussing on staying calm until she found her opportunity.  His shield stayed close to his body as he bulled through her position, pressing hard on her left side.

An opening would open at his back if he kept going so strong was what she thought. What she didn’t notice until it was too late was the shift in his direction. A swivel of his left foot and the weight of his third strike petering away much too fast.

Ramming her hard with his shield, Ellen staggered backwards and raised her shield to cover her head with her eyes searching for a slice high on her left.

Two steps back and Ellen watched in slow motion as his sword swept through space beneath her shield and whacked her ribs with a solid strike. A flash of pain ran through her side and Ellen stepped back another step and escaped his attack.

Wosche was only too happy to give space, letting out a whoop as he cheered himself on.

“Damn, Wosche.” Ellen hissed as she rubbed her ribs, “That was a good one.”

“Be careful with being too passive, girl.” Harlea commented from the sidelines, interrupting their training.

Ellen shot him a dirty look but said nothing as she returned to her spot.

It wasn’t that Harlea’s advice was bad; she agreed that Wosche had a habit of having a loose shield but acting like he understood after one bout was obnoxious.

Tapping her shield, she moved forward to close the gap to Wosche. Wosche kept his space this time and slowly circled to the left.

Ellen was happy to mirror him as she waited for him to make a move again. Charging in was ideal for a shieldbreaker and now she was prepared for it, she was praying he’d go for it again. It was what being a shieldbreaker was. Watching and waiting until the enemy made the mistake was part and parcel for her weapon. The problem laid in the fact that Harlea was, no doubt, the type that loved rushing headlong into danger.

With a twirl of her sword, she focussed on fighting her fight. He was simply too aggressive for his own good; even the fact that he was willing to address her like that was proof.

Her chance coming quicker than she’d hoped, Wosche planted his feet heavily as he stopped circling. The distance shrank between them and Ellen prepared for his strike.

Finding an opening proved difficult as Ellen shuffled towards Harlea’s sword arm. The outer bounds of the ring hemmed her in as she went and Wosche retreated before she could anything more than the shield.

“What are you two waiting for?” Harlea heckled them as he let loose a burst of angry claps, “C’mon.”

Ellen ignored him and waited. An opening would come and she would get the point. She just needed to wait him out and her time would come.

A second later, Wosche made the long awaited first move. Coming in on his right foot with a jab at her mid-section, Ellen caught his strike with her shield and pressed his right side. Following her movements, Wosche put his back to the edge of the arena and traced her path with his shield perfectly.

His overhand swing came next and Ellen parried it with ease as she pressed him again. Catching a glimpse of his foot sliding back, she admonished herself for missing the opportunity to hit it. With a step to the side, Wosche rotated back out from the edge of the arena and entered the space she’d left behind.

Ellen dashed forwards and swung back around to have her shield facing him once more. Deciding to change tack, she held the distance between them and called over to him loudly, “He’s actually right, Wosche. What are you waiting for? You should let me just end this.”

She smacked her shield and opened her arms out wide. There were two steps between them and if she backed up an extra step, she could brace for his attack.

Wosche stuck his tongue out instead and slowly stepped forward in response. Ellen stuck her tongue back out and brought her guard back down. The sounds of Teon and Riu fighting had died off from the other side of the patio and she could feel everyone’s eyes on her.

Another charge was what she was hoping for and Wosche was unwise enough to indulge her. With only a few steps between them, his burst of speed was limited as he bulled towards her with his shield at his centre.

Prepared, Ellen stepped in instead of back and met Wosche mid-step and mid-swing. She’d timed it perfectly and the resulting wobble that shook Wosche’s stance was every much the opportunity that she’d been hoping for.

Her sword found its way under both of their shields and Ellen jabbed it hard into his groin as she pressed him backwards. After a slight struggle, the pain hit Wosche all at once and he bounded several steps back to flee from her successful hit.

“Good Gods’ Grace, El! Seriously.” Wosche yelled at her as he rubbed his inner thigh, “A centimetre over and you’d be explaining to my mother why she won’t be getting grandkids!”

“Sorry, Wosche.” Ellen apologised sheepishly, “It was too hard, I see that.”

“It was bloody underhanded.” Wosche muttered as his usual smirk came to his face, “What a rotten trick.”

“Girl, you ready for your feedback?” Harlea called over from where he stood.

Ellen gave Wosche one last grimace before she jogged over to join Harlea, “How’d I go?”

“Some good, some bad.” Harlea snorted up flem into his mouth and spat it out behind himself, “You found a good opening on that last hit. Lil’ risky but good.”

Ellen couldn’t argue with that. She had opened up too much when she’d struck but still got the point for it so she frankly couldn’t care less.

“And you fight like a Houser.” Harlea added, “With the twirling and prancing and the waiting. Waiting and then wait and wait and wait. So much waiting and your friends’ll be dead before you even get off your mark.”

“What?” Ellen gasped, taken aback, “I was holding the line.”

‘What line? A circle? This tournament training is dulling your instincts. You spent most of your energy running around each other. Hold the line and break the shield, isn’t that what shieldbreaking is?” Harlea used his hands to outline a line in the air in front of him, “but your circling and dancing is getting nothing done.”

“I know what a line is! And I’ve been taught by the best instructors in our country!” Ellen retorted, exasperated as much by the fact that Viera was letting Harlea shoot his mouth off as how out of line Harlea was, “Letting them make the first error is shieldbreaking 101.”

“Those are the same instructors that hid at the back all war.” Harlea challenged her immediately, “Don’t pretend like what you did just then was anything more than some half-assed wait-and-see bullshit. Training like that, you’ll not get far: in the ring or out of it.”

“Wait-and-see bullshit? I am training to win!” Ellen felt herself starting to yell and struggled to control her voice. She took a breath and recomposed herself.

Harlea threw his hands up and yelled back at her, “Oh win! Then go be a dandy gallivanting around tournaments. But helping folks and surviving real fights is much harder than anything you’ll see at Dark Hold, hold me to that. You’ve got to be a shit-ton better if you want to survive the Boards.”

“What are you even talking about?” Ellen wasn’t sure if she was more angry or confused by his ramblings.

“I’m saying if you don’t get your head out of drills and forms, you’re never going to be as good at fighting as Wosche, or your mother for that matter. Coz you don’t have the hunger!”

“I think you forget your place, mercenary,” Ellen spat back at him, “Fighting is strategic, it is a dance.”

“A dance? Holy Three.” Harlea rolled his eyes before giving her a crazed grin, “Then let’s dance, Elayne.”

Ellen frowned. He knew that wasn’t her name but correcting the mad man was beneath her. Wiping the smile off his face would have to do. Before she said anything, she checked to see if Viera had gone to interrupt them or had said anything that she missed in the shouting. With her arms crossed, Viera’s face was impassive as she gave Ellen the slightest shrug that she was indifferent to her choice.

Looking down at her training sword, Ellen spoke up as confidently as she could, “Like now?”

“I am game if you are.” Harlea moved past her to enter the imaginary ring and take up Wosche’s previous position, “You pick the weapons.”

Ellen’s eyes followed him as he pivoted on the spot and began to do little star jumps with exaggerated breaths while he waited for her.

“I’ve already got my sword and shield, so I’d rather not waste time getting a different weapon.  And for you,” Ellen paused as she moved to the starting position closest to her and scanned the others for something he could use. She wouldn’t give him a sword, nor a staff. Her gaze ended on Riu and she smiled, “You can have a dagger.”

“Oooh.” Wosche called over from where he stood with Teon and Riu, now with his water bottle nestled between his legs. Dagger still in her hand, Riu lobbed it over to Harlea who caught it mid-air.

Giving it a twirl between his fingers, Harlea let out a chuckle before tossing it up into the air. Spinning as it rose and fell, his hand snatched it from the air, hand on the hilt but the blade the wrong way around.

“You got to be kidding me.” Ellen muttered under her breath and stepped up to her position. Harlea faced her with the blade of the dagger running parallel to his forearm, like some ill-informed assassin or feckless fool with no proper weapons training. With a tap on her shield, Ellen vowed to make it quick, at the very least.

With his smile still plastered firmly on his face, Harlea tapped the upside down hilt of his dagger, “Make sure you fight to win.”

“Like I would do anything else,” Ellen rebuked him as she stepped closer to him.

She had the reach on him, with his ridiculous grip and no shield meant that she’d get an age before she’d be in his striking distance. Once he pushed into range, she could time her engagement nicely and score the first point without a worry.

Unless that was what he was planning. Rotating to her right, she stayed a step and a half away from him while she assessed his gait. If he wanted to lull her into a false sense of security, he could give away a point. It was first to three anyway and win or lose this point, he had already shown that he didn’t care.

When he charged her, there was less warning than she’d been anticipating. His balance looked like it was on his back foot and then he was suddenly right in front of her. There was no subtlety to his rush as his head came charging towards her throat.

Jabbing for his shoulder, Ellen tried to evade to the right. She had expected to feel the solid connection as he ran himself through on the blunt tip of the training sword but instead watched in horror as he bent unnaturally around her blade. With a duck and a swivel of his chest, he stepped in centimetres from her as he sped past her midline.

Before she could react, his left hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled tight. His right poked into her armpit as she felt the hilt dig in, forcing her to yelp in surprise.

When she tried to pull her arm back, she struggled to generate anywhere near enough power. With him having the momentum, he was able to force her wrist into the top of her shield as she tried to swivel it to cover her midsection.

The pain shot straight through her forearm, forcing her to drop her sword as her legs tangled together under her. As her balance abandoned her, she felt the humiliating relief of Harlea yanking at her shield.

Her feet twisted and she hung in the air as Harlea pulled her back up by the shield. Dagger still in his hand, he swivelled her into the spot next to him and tapped her delicately on the shoulder.

“And, more or less, is how I got under Holdhut’s skin so many years ago.” Harlea laughed as he backed away, “You need a second?”

Ellen scowled at him, “No, next point. Now.”

It came out with a slight wheeze as her body reeled from the excitement. She hurried back to her point and readied herself again. Following suit, Harlea wandered back to his position, this time with his dagger now facing forward correctly.

She brought her shield up again and tapped it lightly. He made the ready signal with his off-hand and Ellen approached more cautiously.

Dropping low, he moved to her left side, eyes vacant as he stalked closer.  Ellen turned with him, marking his dagger and watching for an opening where she could punish his smaller reach.

On the third step, he approached.

Raising his dagger to torso height, Ellen was able to shift her shield in to cover the jab. Her sword moved from low to high, covering the space he would be in with more care this time. In a flash, the dagger changed direction and met her sword. The blade met with a dull thud and Harlea used his dagger to slide down her blade to close the distance.

Ellen was happy to match it as her shield covered her body as she stepped in to meet him. Enclosed spaces were fine if she could keep track of his dagger, she figured but quickly found that even that assumption didn’t mean much against someone like him.

Too fast for her to react, she felt her blade lift and her shield drag. Pushing their weapons above their heads, Harlea neatly pulled her sword up over the top of her shield and deposited on her offside. Felt but not seen, Ellen noticed his offhand yank her shield down and across before he pressed the shield back onto her body.

In just a moment of fighting, he had managed to trap her sword between her and her shield, with his dagger neatly sliding back out from behind the shield. Trying to get space, Ellen moved back a step but felt his offhand tilt her further off balance as he pressed his advantage.

When she tried to push back against him, his dagger flashed and he scored a lovely slice on her knee.

Then releasing both hands, Harlea danced back several steps and let her compose herself again, “Did you want a third round?”

Ellen’s heart thumped in her ears and her entire head felt like it was on fire. She didn’t go back to the start position, nor did she make the ready signal. Instead, she charged him headlong with a scream of frustration coming from deep in her soul.

He met her head on, with both hands grabbing the shield. He came under her and forced the shield up into her right side and into her armpit. She hadn’t realised that she’d gone for a wild overhead swing but now that her sword was above her head and her shield directly beneath it, she had little opportunity to use either of them.

“Settle down. I will give you space and we can try again if you want.” Harlea spoke calmly to her and he ducked as her right arm swung for his head. With a flick, he spun her around and she stumbled backwards.

After two steps, she was able to get her feet under her again and she looked for him. He was half a metre away and she swung again to try and hit him in his smug face.

He ducked under it easily and took another step back to gain more space.

“Fuck you, a leg strike doesn’t count. This isn’t over.” Ellen yelled across at him and breathed heavily.

“It’s done, El. It is over.” Harlea tossed the dagger over towards Riu and held out his hand to her.

Ellen looked over to Viera first. Still with no emotion on her face, it was impossible to tell what she was thinking. The realisation of how Ellen had acted hit her as she looked at her friend’s horrified faces as they stood on the sidelines.

Putting on a brave face, Ellen turned back to Harlea and offered her hand out meekly.

He moved over to close the distance between them and took her hand confidently, “Take a breath. It’s ok.”

Ellen forced herself to calm down. After clearing her throat, she shook his hand, “I apologise. That was improper of me.”

“No skin off my nose. I appreciate some proper fire from a nobling.” Harlea responded loudly for them all to hear, with a hearty laugh to follow soon after.

An awkward laugh from Teon and Wosche joined him as Harlea and Ellen continued to shake hands. As they laughed, Harlea drew her in slightly closer for a second, “Don’t let her see you like that, you understand?”

Then, he pushed her gently away and withdrew his hand, “Hah, Viera, I can see what you mean! These kids are great!”

“Boundless potential, Harlea. As I told you.” Viera responded phlegmatically.

Harlea wrapped his arm around Ellen, “They’re just in need of a proper tutor, I bet. You did good, El.”

“Thank you,” Ellen stammered, unsure about what was happening.

“And we bow,” Harlea murmured from the side of his mouth and pulled her into a bow with him. The others applauded and he sprang back up with her following suit a second afterwards.

He then released her and moved back to the front of the patio, “You have good fundamentals but work on being proactive and not acting so uptight. A good fighter will read you like a book and take advantage of that. If you’re on contract, you don’t get to learn that lesson twice.”

Ellen swallowed her pride painfully, “Yes, sir. Thank you, I understand now.”

“Not yet but someday.” Harlea beamed forcefully as he pointedly didn’t look at Viera.

Ellen let out a nervous laugh and the others joined in again. Ellen could still feel heart racing but the moment was passing quickly and what fear she had felt was gone as inexplicably as it came.

“Excellent,” Viera called out from where she stood, “Harlea. A word?”

“Daelos damn it,” Harlea pat Ellen on the shoulder and gave her one more belaboured smile, “Another time. Soon.”

He strode over to Viera and she pursed her lips, unimpressed, “Back to sparring. Same as before.”

Ellen watched as Harlea walked past Viera and she turned around to speak to him. A terse exchange was all that Ellen could see with them both purposely hiding what they were saying.

Ellen turned her attention to Wosche as he patiently waited with sword and shield in his hands. Ellen walked back to her mark and took up her position again.

Wosche followed, whispering as he moved past her, “He is one mad bastard.”

Ellen let out a long sigh, “He sure is. How about a couple more rounds of shield and then some staves?”