Paragon of Destruction

Grandmaster Solin raised an eyebrow at Brightblade’s challenge. "You wish to spar against me?" A moment later, a smile appeared on his face. "Very well! Having seen your students’ skill, I look forward to seeing their teacher’s accomplishments."

Brightblade gave him a nod, and without any further words, both walked onto the training field. They faced each other, then drew their swords.

Grandmaster Solin was the first to attack.

With a sudden dash, he surged forward, moving so fast that Arran could only barely see his movements. His sword struck a dozen times in quick succession, each strike hitting with a speed and precision that left Arran breathless. The display of swordsmanship was beyond anything he had ever seen.

He had known a Grandmaster of the House of Swords would be skilled, but this was far beyond his expectations.

Grandmaster Solin’s skill and speed were utterly inhuman — as far beyond Arran as Arran was beyond an untrained commoner. Just witnessing it made him realize how far he still had to go, and he wondered whether he could ever achieve such a level of absolute mastery.

It took Brightblade all of five seconds to defeat the man.

She didn’t display any of the Grandmaster’s speed and strength, nor did her movements betray any great level of skill. To an average onlooker, she would seem little more skilled than a novice — and not a particularly outstanding one, either.

Yet although her movements were slow and simple, her sword was exactly where it needed to be. Every single one of Grandmaster Solin’s attacks was casually deflected, and a moment later, Brightblade’s sword lay at the man’s throat.

Gasps of shock sounded through the audience, and a look of astonishment appeared on the Grandmaster’s face as he realized what had happened. Yet Brightblade merely smiled and drew back her sword, then motioned for him to attack again.

A frown crossed Grandmaster Solin’s face, and he launched another attack a moment later.

Arran had thought the man’s previous display was near the pinnacle of swordsmanship, but this time, he easily surpassed his previous effort. With what only could be called a god-like show of skill and power, he assaulted Brightblade once again.

This time, he was defeated in four seconds.

Again Brightblade motioned for him to attack, and again he was defeated in seconds. Over and over, the Grandmaster tried to match her, yet each time, he fell miserably short of even threatening her.

In the span of half an hour, Brightblade bested Grandmaster Solin well over a hundred times, with the Grandmaster never lasting more than a few seconds. He tried many different tactics and styles, but each was defeated with ease by his opponent. Not a single one of his attacks came even close to hitting her.

Finally, after another quick defeat, Grandmaster Solin stepped back and sheathed his sword. "I’ve seen enough," he said calmly. "Follow me."

He ignored the shocked audience as he began to head for the building where they had first met, Brightblade at his side while Arran and Snowcloud hurriedly followed behind the two.

He did not speak a single word until they had entered his chambers once again, though Arran could not tell whether this was because the man was speechless with shock or because what he had to say required secrecy.

Inside Grandmaster Solin’s chambers, the man sat down at his desk, then gave Brightblade a long look, a complex expression on his face.

Finally, he sighed deeply.

"In the past, our House of Swords had two Elders," he said. "Both of them fell just before the truce was formed, but before they fell, I had the honor of training under both of them. Just the memory of their skill fills me with awe to this day."

He paused briefly, his eyes focused on Brightblade. Then, in a soft voice, he said, "Compared to you, they were like students."

Brightblade did not reply. She merely looked at Grandmaster Solin, her expression calm as ever.

"I do not know whether you are an unparalleled genius or one of the Society’s old monsters," the Grandmaster continued. "But it doesn’t matter. Our House’s resources are yours to use. Your students will be accepted as core members of the House of Swords, and if you wish, you will be accepted into our council of leaders."

"Thank you, Grandmaster," Brightblade replied. "I will accept your offer." She smiled, then added, "And I intend to keep my promise of teaching your members."

A joyous look appeared on the Grandmaster’s face. "To have you teach us... it will transform our House." He let out a sudden laugh. "And none of the other Houses will understand what happened."

Brightblade smiled, and with a glance at Arran and Snowcloud, she said, "To most mages, an exceptionally skilled swordsman is little more interesting than an exceptionally skilled baker — less so, perhaps, since one cannot eat swords."

She frowned slightly, she added in a casual tone, "Hunters are feared for their resistance to magic rather than their skill at combat. A novice shrugging off a simple Flamestrike would draw far more attention than the demonstration I gave today."

This was a warning, Arran knew, and a clear one at that. He and Snowcloud could show their strength and skill without drawing unwanted attention, but if they showed their resistance to magic, there would be problems.

"Quite right," Grandmaster Solin said. "This blindness has always been one of the Ninth Valley’s weaknesses. Had we acknowledged the Hunters’ skill rather than just their toughness, I believe we could have defeated them without ever needing a truce."

Brightblade nodded in agreement. "But there are matters we have to discuss," she said. "Perhaps you could arrange quarters for my students, so that we may talk in peace?"

"Of course," the man replied. "There is an empty mansion that belonged to one of our Grandmasters. I will have your students escorted there. I can arrange for servants as well, so that you and your students can—"

"No servants," Brightblade interrupted him. "I do not intend for my students to grow too comfortable." She chuckled, then added, "Nor myself, for that matter."

Grandmaster Solin nodded in approval. "Too much comfort does have a way of weakening the spirit. Very well. I will have your students seen to their quarters. But first..."

He produced two small badges from his void bag, then handed them to Arran and Snowcloud. They were made out of some kind of black stone, and they were shiny and smooth to the touch, carrying a simple engraving of two crossed swords.

"These badges identify you as core members of our House. Go ahead and bind them."

Arran did as the man said, and when he bound the badge, he found that a small connection was formed between himself and the item. It didn’t seem to have any functions beyond that, but if a mage inspected it closely, it would be clear that the badge was his.

"Core members?" he asked. "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means that you hold the same status as adepts within our House," the man explained. "With these, you can enter and leave the inner Valley unhindered. If anyone threatens or insults you, it will be considered an offense against all of us." He sighed, then added, "Though I would suggest you avoid making enemies within the greater Houses. Our influence is not what it once was."

Arran nodded. He had no intention of making enemies if he could avoid it — he had come to the Ninth Valley to train, not to find conflict.

After that, the Grandmaster summoned a novice to lead them to their new quarters. Barely half an hour later, Arran and Snowcloud were sitting in the gardens of a mansion at the edge of the stronghold.

The mansion was larger than expected, built out of wood in a simple but elegant style, with walls surrounding both the building and its gardens. It held over a dozen rooms, and although it had clearly not been used for some years, the interior was still spotless.

But while the mansion itself was spacious and comfortable, its best feature were its gardens. Large and well-kept, they featured a training field, a small orchard, and several herb beds that made Snowcloud exclaim in delight.

Amid the gardens was a quiet patio with several chairs and tables, and after the exhausting day, Arran and Snowcloud eagerly took the opportunity to sit and relax.

"In that fight, how much of your strength did you use?" Snowcloud asked, nibbling on a sweet she had produced from her void ring.

"About a quarter," Arran said. "But that adept... his skill was incredible. If I hadn’t been stronger than him, he would have defeated me in seconds. And what about you?"

Snowcloud frowned. "I used about half my strength. That novice — Ilena, I think it was? — she was amazing. She lacked strength and experience, but in the future, she’ll be terrifying."

Arran nodded. Watching the fight, he’d had the same thought. The mages in the House of Swords lacked in power and real battle practice, but their skill was beyond question. Although obviously, they could not compare to Brightblade.

"Did you know Brightblade was that strong?" he asked, forehead creased in thought as he remembered her display.

"No," Snowcloud said. "I mean, she’s... well, with her status, I knew she was strong. But this?" She shook her head in wonder.

They spent several hours in the garden, sitting and talking while enjoying the chance to do nothing. They understood well that their break would be short-lived — Brightblade would not have brought them here to grow lazy.

When Brightblade arrived at the mansion evening had already fallen, and from her pleased expression, it seemed her talks with Grandmaster Solin had gone well.

As she sat down next to them, she said, "Your training starts tomorrow. It will take Grandmaster Solin a few days to make arrangements with the other Houses, so until then, you will have your afternoons and evenings to yourself. The mornings, you will spend teaching and practicing."

"Teaching?" Arran’s eyes went wide with surprise. "We’re going to be teaching?"

Brightblade nodded. "Snowcloud will teach initiates, and you will teach novices." She laughed, then went on, "Consider it part of your training. By teaching others, you also improve your own skills."

Arran frowned, then nodded in acceptance. While he wasn’t sure how he felt about becoming an instructor, Brightblade’s earlier display had removed any last doubts he still had about her skill. If she believed it would benefit them, then he would trust her.

"Besides," Brightblade continued, "we will spend the next few years using the House’s resources. It won’t hurt to repay their kindness."

"Then why did you offend Master Kallias earlier?" Arran asked. "From the look on his face, I feared he was only a word away from trying to strangle you."

Brightblade laughed. "Being too friendly would make it look as if I was hiding something. But now, most will assume that I am some Elder’s daughter — grown strong with her parents’ backing, and with the arrogance to match her strength."

Arran furrowed his brow. "Will people accept that story? Even after what you showed today?"

While Brightblade seemed confident, he remained skeptical. After her earlier display, he found it hard to believe that she wouldn’t draw attention from the other Houses.

"They will," Brightblade replied. "Most mages see swordsmanship as a useful but crude tool. That’s why the House of Swords ranks among the lesser Houses — in terms of status, mastery in swordsmanship cannot compare to mastery in spells."

Before Arran could object, she continued, "But the two of you should head to bed. Training starts at dawn, and you wouldn’t want to disappoint your students."

She grinned brightly as Arran’s expression fell. Between doing battle and teaching novices, the latter worried him infinitely more than the former.

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