Year 7335, Decatry Castle – Training Yard-
The morning fog had already lifted, but the air remained cold. The sun was low on the horizon, too weak to warm the stone of the yard. The armour on the training dummies glistened with a thin layer of frost.
I stood in the centre of the dirt circle, a wooden sword in my hand. It was lighter than the dagger with which I had killed the intruder, longer, more awkward. But the grip was the same: fingers around the hilt, thumb overlapping, wrist firm.
Mira sat on a stone bench against the wall, legs swinging, eyes watching everything. Her curly hair was still dishevelled from sleep. The maid had dressed her in an oversized dark blue coat. She looked even smaller than she was.
"Do you know how to use this, boy?" asked Ander Féris, entering the yard with another wooden sword in his hand.
"Enough not to kill myself, my lord."
"Then let's see."
He threw me the sword. I caught it. The balance was different from the first one, heavier at the tip. Ander noticed my hesitation.
"You don't like it?"
"I'll adapt."
"The good adapt. The best choose." He raised his own sword, one hand on the hilt, the other behind his back. "Attack."
---
The first strikes were slow, probing.
Ander was not exceptional. He was competent, solid, but without Andy's brilliance or a master's precision. His movements were economical, without flourish. He taught like someone who had trained dozens of soldiers: practice, repetition, discipline.
"Your arm is too extended," he said, pushing my sword aside with a dry blow. "You'll lose your balance."
I corrected my stance. Stepped forward again. He blocked, riposted. His strike hit my shoulder. It hurt, but I didn't show it.
"Slow," he commented. "Your body is tense. Feet apart, weight in the centre. Fear is holding you back."
"I'm not afraid."
"You are. You hide it well, but you are. I see it in your eyes. I saw it in many men before battles. Those who weren't afraid are all dead. Those who were learned to use it."
"And you, my lord?" I stepped back to catch my breath. "Were you afraid?"
Ander lowered his sword. His gaze grew distant.
"I was. During the war against the Contraranures. My father died in that war. Deur Derylini led the southern flank. I was just a boy, younger than you. I saw things I wish upon no one."
"But you survived."
"I survived. And I swore loyalty to the man who saved me. Deur is a hard man, but loyal. And I am loyal to him."
I filed away the information. *Ander is loyal to Deur Derylini. The man who killed Arthur Erréndias. The traitor.*
"Your lord is not going to the academy," I said, to change the subject.
"Deur stays for the war. The day after tomorrow, I leave north with Linda's fleet. The juveniles won't kill themselves."
"Will you take me with you?"
"No. You will go to the academy. You need to learn. And you need to watch the girls."
"The girls?"
Ander smiled. It was a humourless smile.
"The nobles' children are there. The heirs. The heiresses. Alliances are made in the classroom as much as on the battlefield. Duke Andy knows that. King Dizius knows it too. That's why they send their children there."
"And you send me."
"I have no children. I have you." He raised his sword. "Enough talk. Attack again."
---
We trained for an hour.
The strikes became faster, more natural. Ander corrected my stance, my breathing, the angle of my wrist. I was not excellent, but I learned quickly.
In the end, I was tired, my tunic clinging to my body with sweat. Mira was no longer on the bench. She was on the ground, imitating our movements with a stick she had found. Her eyes sparkled.
"She likes you," Ander said, lowering his sword.
"She does."
"Why? You're not particularly likeable."
"I saved her. And I lie to her well."
Ander glanced at me sideways, but he didn't ask.
"Come, let's eat. The girl is hungry."
---
Mira jumped from the ground and ran to me.
"Zirinos! Zirinos! Did you see? I can do it too!"
She raised the stick, imitating a vertical cut. Her form was wrong, her wrist loose, but the determination was genuine.
"Did you see?" she repeated, breathless.
"I saw." I knelt to her height. "But a stick is not a sword. A sword is not a stick."
"Then what is it?"
"A responsibility. If you don't know how to use it, someone will use it against you."
She didn't understand. She made a face.
"You're strange, Zirinos."
"I know."
"But I like you."
*She likes me. The daughter of the woman I raped and dismembered likes me.*
I smiled. The lie was sweet.
"I like you too, Mira."
---
The vassals' dining hall was smaller than the great hall, but cosier. A lit fireplace, dark wooden tables, the smell of bread and roasted meat.
Ander, Mira and I sat in a corner. Other minor knights and servants occupied the remaining tables, but no one approached. Baron Féris was respected, but not popular.
"Tomorrow I'll prepare your documents," Ander said, chewing a piece of meat. "Letter of recommendation, blood registry, mana test. School things."
"Mana test?"
"To see if you have any affinity. If you do, you can learn magic. But I doubt it. Chosen ones can't use mana. Are you a chosen one?"
"No."
"Then the test will be useful. The results determine your subjects. Magic, history, bestiary, strategy. Everything a knight needs."
"And if I have no talent?"
Ander shrugged.
"Then you train twice as hard. Duke Andy gave his authorisation. You're a squire to a baron loyal to Decatry. That opens doors. But it doesn't open your head. That you must do yourself."
Mira fidgeted with her food, bored.
"Zirinos, will you take me to the school?"
"I will."
"Can I train?" She raised the stick she had brought from the yard.
"When you're older."
"Mummy used to say I was strong..." Her voice faltered. Her gaze drifted. "Before..."
She didn't finish.
*Before I killed her.*
The silence stretched. Ander looked at the table, uncomfortable.
"Your mother lied," I said, my voice neutral. "You were weak. But you will become strong. You will train with me. Every day. You'll learn to use a sword, to read, to count, to lie."
"Lie?"
"Lie. It's the most important skill."
Ander cleared his throat.
"Boy..."
"I'm joking, my lord." I smiled. "She's a child. She needs to play."
Mira looked at me with wide eyes.
"Do you think I'll become strong?"
"I know you will. You'll train with me. But first, eat."
She returned to her plate, satisfied.
Ander said nothing. He just drank his wine and looked at me with an expression I couldn't decipher.
---
After lunch, Ander called me to a corner.
"Duke Andy and the kings will discuss for another day. The war against Trussum is the main topic. And the third layer... the elves."
"Will there be an expedition?"
"They say they'll send a group to investigate. But not yet. First, the war."
"And me?"
"You will go to the academy. The boat leaves the day after tomorrow. You need to rest. And to prepare the girl."
"She's coming with me?"
"She is. I spoke with the duke. He authorised it. A child doesn't draw attention. And your responsibilities toward her show character."
'Character.'
I smiled inwardly.
"I am grateful, my lord."
Ander looked at Mira, who played with a stone on the ground, indifferent to the world.
"You're a good lad, Zirinos. Despite what happened to you."
"It happened to all of us, my lord. War, loss, fear."
"Yes." He patted my shoulder. "Go rest. Tomorrow I'll prepare the documents. The day after, you leave."
"Yes, my lord."
---
In the shared room, Mira fell asleep almost instantly. The tiredness of the day and the warmth of the fireplace had extinguished her eyes.
I stroked her hair as she slept.
'If you knew what I did to your mother...'
But she didn't know. Nor would she. If I was careful.
I sat by the window. The Derylini lighthouse blinked in the distance, on the horizon. The academy. The future.
The nobles spoke of war and distant worlds. The children would study magic. And I, Zirinos, the slave who became a hero, would infiltrate among them. Observe. Learn. Conquer.
Mira was my mask. No one suspects a man who cares for a child.
I looked at my hand. The scar from the cut I had faked to deceive Ander was almost healed.
'The academy', I thought. 'I will learn to fight. And then... I will learn to conquer.'
I blew out the candle.
The room went dark.
The monster does not sleep.
It only waits.