Wooden swords slammed together as Bietre and Caj preformed a deadly dance. Bietre was armed with a lead-filled wooden version of his claymore, while Caj used a similarly designed short sword. It was a dance of avoidance on Caj’s part, and he was channeling his inner Narm, using every one of his old caretaker’s old tricks.

It had been nearly six months since Rai and Emma had come into Caj’s care, and every day had been filled with hard work. Caj could now best most of the officers in the Goldstern City Guard with a blade, although he was still absolute Chaff with the axe. His bladework improved every day, his movements growing more and more economical. He could now name any of the weapons in Bietre’s extensive arsenal, and cite their uses. This included some rather obscure weapons that Caj had trouble picturing actually being viable, although Bietre assured him they were. Rai and Emma had been learning also, although lessons of a different sort. Rai griped about lessons daily, although he loved the game of stones, and always seemed to get the answers to his math problems right the first time. Emma proved to be of exceptional intelligence, absorbing the training that Isabelle gave her, both in how to be a maid and how to spy on people surrounding her. Rai was considerably more stubborn, making leaps and bounds in both the game of stones and combat, but lagging behind in etiquette and politics. Today, he and Narm had come to watch Caj’s training exercise.

Bietre’s blade whipped past Caj’s head, as the young auburn-haired man leaned slightly to the side. The edge passed less than a centimeter from his cheek, and he gulped. Narms voice resounded in him mind.

If a strike misses you by three centimeters or three feet, it doesn’t matter, it missed either way.

While Caj could recognize the truth in the statements, a sword, even a wooden one, passing so close to his left ear was disconcerting. Caj stepped forward smoothly and thrust at Bietre’s unguarded chest. Bietre responded with a movement worthy of his reputation as a sword master. His pommel intersected with Caj’s blade, and shoved the blade off line, allowing Bietre to take a measured step back and counter swing. Caj sprang back, recognizing that Bietre was about to go into a full-frontal attack. His back hit a solid object and he cursed, Bietre had taken to randomly modifying the courtyard layout before their bouts, and Caj had backed straight into one of the portable wooden walls that had been added. He barely ducked the next swing. In the fraction of a second that Bietre was resetting, Caj caught movement in his periphery, coming from the direction of Narm and Rai. Instinctively, he snatched the moving object out of the air as he moved.

In the past months, Caj’s training with Narm had not ended. Instead, the old codger had found a way to improve Caj’s efficiency of movement. His method generally involved throwing things at Caj when he was in the middle of practicing forms. What Caj had just snatched out of the air was a balanced wooden rod not unlike the one he had thrown at Bietre just six months before. Caj barely registered what was in his hand before hurling it at Bietre’s face. Bietre instinctively took two steps back, swinging his great sword in a wide arc to create space and stop Caj charging him. Caj charged anyways, trusting that the height difference between the two of them would be enough to let him duck and roll. He was correct, managing to dive and roll under Bietre’s swing with half a centimeter to spare.

Caj rolled behind Bietre and was already turning, short sword whistling through the air. He didn’t have the benefit of being gentle in this sparring match, If Bietre got turned around, Caj was done for. Caj’s wooden weapon whipped across Bietre’s lower back like a mean switch, and as Caj completed the turn, he thrusted forward, stopping just shy of Bietre’s neck. Both men were breathing heavily, and Caj was flush with victory.

“Pobeda.” He said, using the Edralian word for victory. And then, because he couldn’t resist, he added, “Lesson 5: do not give your opponent your back.” From the side Narm and Rai started laughing.

***

“You cheated Narm,” Bietre said through a mouthful of shrimp, “You practically handed him an extra weapon!”

They were seated at the main dinner table in the Noblis home, discussing the events of the day. Marci and Narm were guests for the night, and Rai and Emma had joined them at the table after serving out meals, as per normal. Valerna, who had recently returned from the Pewhoasil Desert guffawed. Her time in the dessert and made her skin so tan that she almost looked Elforian.

“That’s not what I saw Papa.” She said, disregarding al semblance of table manners, like her father. “I saw him catch the damned thing out of the air like it was nothing, then throw it in your face less than a second later! And the way he dodged your last swing! Reaper above, I thought for sure that he was heading for the Threshing Floor, but then he was behind you!”

“Language, Valerna,” Natalia admonished from her position at the table, dabbing at her mouth primly with a napkin. The mood died for a moment, and Natalia cleared her throat. “Ahem, it was pretty impressive though, wasn’t it? I’ve never seen anybody move like that.” She grinned, and everyone chuckled.

“Narm moves like that.” Marci piped up from where she sat. All eyes turned to her for a moment before Bietre said,

“Yes, he Threshing does.” He chuckled, “Chaff Burned bastard used to beat me every bout we had, even though I was better with a sword.” Every eye now turned to Narm, surprise written on every face except for Caj and Bietre’s. Narm just continued to eat as though he had no concerns at all. He swallowed and wiped his mouth.

“You know Bietre,” he said dryly, “It’s cruel to remind an old man of what he can’t do anymore.” Bietre cackled.

“Ha! You’re one to talk.” He said, “you were always one for cruel words. Even today you were cruel, laughing at me when I had a turn of bad luck.” Narm raised his eyebrow.

“Bietre,” Narm said easily, “it was cruel of me to try and hit Caj in the head with a practice knife while he was in the middle of a bout with you. The fact that he caught it was impressive itself, what followed that even more so for someone of his training. The least I could do is laugh. I probably should’ve offered to buy him a drink.” With every word spoken Caj was shuffling further and further down into his seat. A healthy flush had suffused his cheeks.

“I dunno,” Valerna said teasingly, “It looks like he might’ve had a bit too much already…”

Everyone laughed, Caj included, and things wound down after a few moments. Rai spoke next. He had become considerably better at table manners since Caj enforced the rule that he wasn’t allowed to eat unless he used at least a semblance of them.

“How did ye do it big-man?” Rai asked. Caj allowed for the slip in manners due to the present setting and actions of the people at the table. He shrugged instead of giving admonishment.

“Luck mostly,” he mumbled quietly, “A fair bit of cursing and praying as well. About equal amounts of both.” Everyone at the table laughed, with even Emma huffing.

“That’s the secret,” Narm said seriously, “It takes a specific mixture of those particular items. It’s definitely not skill or good training.” Another round of laughs made its way around the table.

They moved on to other topics after that, with Valerna telling stories about her time in the Pewhoasil. Caj thought it curious that they all seemed to focus on exploits of very handsome men who Valerna always called ‘dear friends’ before going on to spend a good chunk of the story just describing their physical attributes. Natalia rubbed at her temples with every name and story, and Caj was beginning to get a handle on exactly the kind of suggestion Valerna had made to Natalia the first time he saw either of them. It made him want to flush again. He excused himself and his wards not long after on the pretense of going to bed. In reality, he still had another hour or so of review with Rai before bed. He wasn’t trying to get the boy to the same level as himself or Narm, no one would expect that given his appearance, but Rai at least needed to reach an acceptable level.

***

Half-head didn’t much care for manners. He understood their use perhaps, but it was like the strange pidgin street-lingo some of the older kids used, necessary in some situations, but just annoying in others. Half-head understood their necessity when dealing with important members of the nobility. You showed them the same respect you showed to the boss of another crew, because the consequences otherwise could be dire. However, he really didn’t understand why he needed to understand much else than the proper use of address. It wasn’t like it mattered to him. Big-man Undertaker insisted that it would be needed to understand conversations, and Mute agreed with him. Half-head didn’t know if he agreed with them or not, but he didn’t want to be back out on the streets, so he kept on anyways. It was all that could be asked of him after all.