19 years later... C.Y 312
Steel rang sharply across the courtyard.
Zark stepped back just as the wooden training blade came down. The strike glanced off his guard. He tightened his grip, a single lock of his messy, medium-length black hair falling over his damp forehead. Beneath furrowed brows, his deep brown eyes narrowed, a sharp, knowing intensity fixed on his opponent as he reset his stance.
The stone yard of Caelenguard was slick from the morning rain. Mud clung to boots. Cold wind rolled down from the surrounding hills and rattled the banners above the walls. The air smelled faintly of wet iron and smoke from the keep's morning fires.
Above the courtyard walls, the banners of House Stormvale snapped sharply in the wind;
Together the symbols marked the power and legacy of House Stormvale.
Across from him stood a mountain of a man.
Gavin Soulbane.
Even after years of training under him, Zark still felt small. Gavin's hair has gotten much longer now, it gave him a shadowed presence that made him seem even larger in the slick courtyard.
Gavin loomed nearly two meters tall. Worn steel plate scarred from battles gleamed faintly beneath the surcoat of House Stormvale.
His dark cloak caught the light with every movement.
Survival mattered more than appearances.
"You're thinking again," Gavin said calmly.
Zark circled him slowly, blade raised.
"I usually do that before someone tries to break my ribs."
Gavin snorted.
"A swordsman who thinks too long dies."
Without warning, Gavin lunged.
Gavin struck forward with terrifying speed
Zark reacted instinctively, moving before thought caught up.
The wooden blade slipped past him by a hair, gasps echoing from the soldiers. He countered, the strike cracking sharply against Gavin's armor.
The older knight stepped back and lowered his weapon.
"Enough."
Zark lowered his own blade slowly, breath rising in pale clouds in the cold air.
A handful of Stormvale soldiers stood nearby watching the sparring match. Some shook their heads in disbelief.
"He's getting faster," one muttered.
"Aye," another replied quietly.
"Still, that was lucky," a third said.
"He almost got him in the ribs."
Zark felt heat rise to his cheeks, partly from exertion, partly from their whispers.
He hated relying on luck. He wanted control.
From the balcony above the courtyard,
a young voice called down.
"You still look slow to me."
Zark looked up. Valera Stormvale leaned against the wooden railing, arms crossed, her dark raven hair whipping around her face in the wind.
Steel blue eyes tracked every movement below, alert and calculating.
Her fair, wind touched skin and high cheekbones gave her an air of quiet authority, and the way she held herself straight backed, made it clear she was no stranger to the courtyard.
She was fifteen, but every gesture carried the confidence of a noble raised among warriors.
"And when are you joining the yard?" Zark called up.
Valera smirked.
"When you learn how to win."
Laughter rippled through the soldiers.
Gavin grunted.
"You talk too much, both of you."
A horn sounded beyond the walls.
All conversation stopped.
A rider approached the gate at full speed.
The horse was lathered with sweat.
The rider nearly fell from the saddle as guards rushed forward to steady him.
Gavin's eyes narrowed.
"Messenger."
The man staggered across the yard, breathless.
"From the western border," he rasped.
The courtyard fell silent.
"What happened?" Gavin asked.
The messenger swallowed hard.
"Arconian troops crossed the river near Riverwatch."
Murmurs spread through the watching soldiers.
"The Kindom of Arc?" someone whispered.
"They've been testing our borders for months," another said grimly.
"They won't stop until they take everything," muttered a veteran leaning on his spear.
Gavin's expression hardened.
"How many?"
"A scouting force... maybe more behind them."
Zark listened carefully. He had heard the name Arc many times. A neighboring western kingdom in the Midlands. Proud and powerful. Increasingly hostile. And now, the threat loomed closer than ever.
Gavin dismissed the messenger and turned back toward the courtyard.
"Training is finished for today."
The soldiers dispersed slowly.
Zark remained where he stood,
watching Gavin. He clenched his fists briefly, trying to shake off the tension that had settled in his stomach.
"I have to be ready... faster and sharper.
I won't die if war comes."
The older knight wiped rain from his stubble beard and studied him in silence.
Something in his gaze had changed.
"What?" Zark asked.
Gavin didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stepped closer.
"Move the way you did earlier," he said.
"What way?"
"When I attacked."
Zark frowned but nodded.
He remembered the last attack, the speed, the instinctive movements and the almost impossible timing.
Gavin raised the training blade again.
"Ready?"
Zark lifted his weapon.
Gavin struck. Fast.
Zark reacted.
His body moved with sudden fluid speed. The strike slipped past him easily.
Zark tried to counter with a feint, but his hands hesitated for just a fraction, and Gavin deflected with a subtle twist that nearly tipped Aldric off balance.
"Focus... anticipate... trust your body,"
Zark reminded himself.
He took a breath, steadied, and struck again, adjusting mid swing. This time, he caught Gavin's blade squarely with a controlled block.
A small cheer rose from a few of the soldiers who had lingered.
Gavin froze. For a brief moment, the courtyard seemed to hold its breath.
Zark lowered his blade slowly.
"What?"
Gavin studied him carefully. His eyes had sharpened. He shouldn't be able to move like that. Not yet. Not at nineteen.
Gavin turned away abruptly.
"We're done."
But Zark didn't move.
A question had been sitting in his mind for years. Today, he decided to ask it.
"Gavin..."
The knight paused. Rain fell heavier now, drenching the yard.
Zark hesitated. Then said quietly,
"Where did you find me?"
Gavin didn't turn around. For a long moment, he said nothing. His gaze softened just slightly.
"I found you in the dirt," he said quietly.
Zark frowned.
"What happened to my parents?"
Gavin's jaw tightened.
"One day... you'll know the truth."
He started walking toward the keep.
Zark stood alone in the empty yard.
The banners snapped above them,
the wind carrying the chill of war stirring beyond the walls.
He watched the clouds darken.
Some secrets, he knew, would follow him for years.