Merrill Lianne Powell
The Bladesmaster
A knock on the door echoed through-out the room.
“Come on in!” A rather carefree voice called out.
“...That’s it? You’re just going to let me in? Without asking me who I am or why I am here, knocking?”
The man on the inside of the door chuckled. “Oh, I know why you are here.”
“Well… alright then.” Mumbled the voice from the outside.
The door creaked open, and in walked a well dressed, young looking nobleman, with short, neatly combed hair. His eyes took in the interior of the building, a small living space with potted plants littered and hanging about the place. A somewhat older man, with long, tied back hair and an apron, tended to one of these plants with a watering can. Not quite what he had expected.
The older man turned to him and smiled. “Hello there, what business do you have with me?”
“I’m quite sorry sir, but I believe I’m mistaken and have the wrong address..” The nobleman fidgeted with his cravat out of embarrassment.
The older man let out another laugh, this one much louder and hearty than a mere chuckle. The nobleman stepped back. “Oh no, you are the one who is mistaken. This is the right place.”
The nobleman grimaced, his agitation beginning to show. “How could you know such a thing? I haven’t even told you why I’m-”
“You seek the blademaster, do you not?” The old man’s voice lowered, his gaze more cold and focused. The nobleman swallowed. “I’ve seen this routine many a time. You come in here, see my kind demeanor and very lovely plants and decide based upon nothing that I cannot possibly be the Bladesmaster. Now, out with it then. What work of violence do you seek from me?”
Silence hung in there air for a brief moment, the nobleman stood as still as statue under the Bladesmaster’s scrutinous gaze, before clearing his throat and adjusting his cravat once more.
“Actually, I’m not here to hire you for a mercenary job or anything of the sort.”
“Oh…?” The Bladesmaster arched an eyebrow. “Then you’re here for…?”
“I wish to become your student, sir. I want you to teach me the way of the blade.”
“A teacher is what you seek… mmmhmmm…” The Bladesmaster stroked his chin. “Haven’t had someone requesting an apprenticeship in a while… very well then, I may teach you, if you are up to the task. First, tell me of your motives. Your standing of people are typically the ones seeking me out for guidance.”
The nobleman seemed to stifle a little at that comment, but nonetheless maintained his arms behind the back, upright posture.
“I wish to learn the art of the blade in order to exact my revenge on someone.”
“Revenge, hm..?” The Bladesmaster sat down on a chair in his little kitchen, “On who?” He pulled a chair next to him, and the nobleman nodded his head and sat down next to him.
“The Red Knight.” The blademaster’s eyebrows went up in surprise, hearing the title. “See, I was making my way through the town’s festival, courting a beautiful woman of high standing, as is one to do. As I was leading her my by the arm however, that foul crimson cretin tripped me! I fell face first into the mud, not only ruining my clothes and pristine face, but humiliating me in front of the populace. INCLUDING the women!”
“Quite the grievous offense…” The Bladesmaster remarked dryly.
“It is, isn’t it!?” Said the nobleman, now rising from his chair, fists curled on the table from indignation. The nobleman took a brief moment to close his eyes, breathe out to calm himself, before sitting back down.
“As a man of my standing, it’s my duty to reclaim my honor from and set an example for those who seek to mock me, but I have little experience in such matters as dueling blades. Which is why I seek your guidance.
“I see... “ The Bladesmaster nodded, his arms folded and eyes narrowed, he was deep in thought.
After a few beats, the Bladesmaster rose from his chair and began to walk towards the center of the house, before crouching down and lifting a trap door from the floor, revealing a hidden staircase leading down. “Come with me.”
The nobleman followed behind the Bladesmaster, and the two descended down the stairs, reaching a basement floor. The nobleman's jaw dropped open at the sight.
A training room. A full, spacious training room decorated with everything a trainee could need, armors, training dummies, targets, but most important of all, weaponry. Lances, axes, bows, flails, hammers, and of course, blades.
Blades of every make and every region. Longswords, shortswords, rapiers, scimitars, wakizashi, cutlass, khopesh, dao, falchion, any sword one could dream of, it was here.
The Bladesmaster smirked, amused at the nobleman’s reaction. “This was more of what you were expecting, mmm?”
The nobleman just nodded, unable to form a proper response.
“So?” The Bladesmaster stood in front of the nobleman, arms folded behind his back. “Are you ready to take the commitment of being my pupil.”
“Yes! Yes I am!” The nobleman replied, no hesitation at all.
The Bladesmaster smiled. “Very well then.” He reached to a barrel nest him, containing all sorts of blades, and pulled a long saber out it. He spun effortlessly twirled it around in his hand as if it were a light baton. “This will be the blade you train with, and the one you will inherit from me when to graduate.” He presented the hilt to the nobleman, who reached out to grab it, before the Bladesmaster yanked it back to his side.
“But first,” He held the sword up to his chest. “As with all my students, you must take an oath before I begin to train you.”
“Of course, of course, I’ll take the oath!” The nobleman was buzzing with excitement, his proper stiff demeanor completely gone.
“If you wish to study the blade, then you must admit to the both of us, that you are incredibly and absolutely stupid.”
The nobleman stood there, all the energy in him earlier now left, just blinking dumbfoundedly at the Bladesmaster. “...Excuse me?”
“You heard what I said.” The Bladesmaster’s rough, cold gaze returned. “You must pledge an oath acknowledging your stupidity.”
The Bladesmaster began to pace back and forth across the room, twirling the blade in his hand as he did. “I’m not making you say this to humiliate you. It’s just the way of things. Anyone who takes up the blade is a fool. Take me for example. I could’ve taken any number of professions to earn my living- a gardener, for example- but instead I chose and continue to employ myself in work that puts my very life at risk. Mercenary work is quite lucrative, yes, but in the grand scheme of our world, not very smart.”
The nobleman looked down, deeply considering what the Bladesmaster told him. “I understand what you’re trying to say but… as man of my standing, I simply cannot bring myself to admit such a thing.”
“Fine, that’s your choice.” The Bladesmaster shrugged and turned away from the nobleman. “I won’t be teaching you in that case.”
“...I’ll pay you 200 gold a month.”
The Bladesmaster spun back around on his heels to face the nobleman once more, a smile now on his face. “Let us commence the training.”
--
The clang of two swords echoed throughout the room. The Bladesmaster and his new apprentice had been practicing together for a few weeks now, and the young man was showing promise. The only problem, however…
“HYYYAGGHHH!”
The nobleman rushed forward towards his master, giving a broad swing, aiming for his side.
The Bladesmaster quickly answered in return with a deft slash to knock the incoming sword away, causing a shift in the nobleman’s momentum that made him lose balance.
The nobleman fell down the ground, his sword clattering a few inches away from him. When he opened his eyes, his master was pointing the tip of a blade to his neck.
The boy was far too headstrong.
“Had I been an actual adversary, you’d be dead. You need to think before launching these wild attacks.”
The nobleman got up, making a strained noise as he did. “My counter to that is most of my adversary will not be someone of your skill level.”
The Bladesmaster made no comment on this.
The nobleman picked up his blade, and assumed a combat stance once more. “Okay, let me come at you again. I think I’ve got it this time.”
“That’s the fourth time you’ve said you’ve ‘got this’...”
Doesn’t learn from his mistakes, either.
--
Night time. The main floor, populated with bright potted plants, felt oddly eerie at night, with only moon rays seeping into the window and a bright orange flame of a candle being the only things giving the room life.
The Bladesmaster was hunched over at his candlelit desk, writing away at a piece of parchment laid out in front of him
“Oh, Master? What are you doing at this hour?”
The Bladesmaster lept from his seat and turned around, point the tip of his quill at the neck of his apprentice.
“Master, it’s just me!” The nobleman looked concernedly down at the quill pointed at his throat. “...I just wanted to tell you I was retiring for the night.”
“...Oh, it’s just you.” The Bladesmaster relaxed his arm pointing the quill. Heaven’s sake, they’ve been training together for a month now. Should know by now not to sneak up on him like that.
The Bladesmaster sat back down into his chair and continued to write on the parchment. “If you must know, I’m writing to a former student of mine. I like to keep in contact with them. Not many to keep in contact though, given the nature of being a bladesman.”
“I see…” The nobleman nodded, before smirking. “Well, once I slay the red knight, completing my training, you’ll be able to write to me as well!” He tugged proudly on his cravat, that he annoyingly insisted be sewn onto his training uniform.
“Oh?” The Bladesmaster turned around in his chair and smirked. “You say that with such confidence! You truly think you’re capable of taking on the knight now?”
The nobleman pounded his chest. “Of course! You said yourself I’ve improved quite a bit!”
“You have… but…”
“I’m sure! If the knight were to show right now, I’d handle him swiftly! His head will roll to my feet, I say!”
The bladesman gave a playful smile and chuckled. “Well, we’ll see about that.” He returned writing his letter.
--
Two months since the training began.
The pair were walking through a crowded market place, with the Bladesmaster leading his apprentice to an uncertain location.
“Master, where are we going?”
The Bladesmaster gave another one of his playful smiles, not saying anything else. The nobleman had learned enough at this point to understand that this meant his things were about to get quite difficult for him.
Eventually, the Bladesmaster stopped at the town’s plaza, a large circular intersection right in the middle of town. People seemed to be crowding around the edges of the plaza, as if they were going to watch something transpire in the middle of the circle.
The nobleman looked around at the crowd before seeing who stood at the other end up the plaza: A figure clad in crimson armor, face completely obscured by a heavy helmet. The Red Knight.
The Red Knight stood, sword planted in the ground, (assumedly) staring at the nobleman in complete silence.
“Master… what’s the meaning of this?”
The Bladesmaster smiled. “Well, you remember last month when you said you were confident you could take The Knight? Well, that’s who I was writing to in my correspondence. My former student. I arranged him to come here and duel you, since you seemed so assured you can take him.”
The nobleman stared at his master, completely stunned, before looking back at the knight nervously.
The Bladesmaster leaned in towards his student and whispered in his ear. “If you wish to back out now, I would hold no fault against you. The wisest thing a man of the blade can do is to choose his own life over honor.”
The nobleman looked down, deep in thought, carefully considering his master's words.
“...No. I can do this.”
The Bladesmaster sighed. “Very well. Take your place at the edge of the circle. I will commence the duel.”
The nobleman shuffled his way to the edge of the circle opposite of the knight, as the Bladesmaster went to it’s center.
The Bladesmaster cleared his voice, before he began to announce to the crowd. “A duel shall now commence! Please, spectators, refrain from any interference!”
“As the code of blade duelists state, both participants must be willing, and if so, will take opposite sides and equal distance on an even field. From there, once the signal is given, the duelists may approach each other, and use any form of attack they wish, so long as it involves their blade! The duel is over when one participant either surrenders, is rendered to the point they can no longer fight, or dead! Now, with the clang of my sword against the ground, the duel shall commence!”
The Bladesmaster raised his sword into the air.
The nobleman was breathing hard. His hands gripping his hilt were sweating.
The sword began to swing down.
He could do this. He could do this.
The sword almost hit the ground.
He could do this. He was BETTER than the knight. He WOULD do this.
CLANG!
Adrenaline coursing through his body, the nobleman charged forward, crying out as he did. The Knight began to lumber forward as well. He saw that there was small gap in The Knight’s armor, at the waist. If he could strike his side, then the knight would be downed almost instantly.
As the two grew closer, the nobleman began to cast a wide swing to the left with his blade. He could do this. He could do this. He could-
The Knight blocked the incoming sword away with his own, causing a shift in the nobleman’s momentum that made him lose balance.
The nobleman fell down the ground, his sword clattering a few inches away from him. When he opened his eyes, The Knight was pointing the tip of a blade to his neck.
“Surrender.” A cold voice echoed through the helmet.
“...No.”
Near instantaneously, the knight thrust his sword forward into the nobleman’s neck. A terrifying squelch was heard, blood flew into the air, as the crowd screamed.
The nobleman was dead.
Like a ball, the head of his former student rolled to the Bladesmaster’s feet. He let out another sigh.
“I told you, all who wield the blade are stupid.”
“After all, I got my highest paying student killed to prove a point.”