Paragon of Destruction

"I’m sorry," Arran said. "I got caught up in training. But I thought you said the afternoons and evenings were our own?"

"With our first day in the House of Swords, I thought..." She sighed. "No matter. There’s food if you’re hungry."

She gestured at the tables beside her, where Arran could see the remains of a small feast. Over half the food was still untouched, and he understood that she had intended to celebrate their arrival with him and Snowcloud.

He felt some guilt at ruining the celebration, but not enough to keep him from quickly piling a heap of food on one of the large plates — he hadn’t eaten since morning, and the day of training had left him famished.

As he began to eat, Brightblade asked, "So what did you learn today? If you couldn’t return before midnight, I imagine it must’ve been quite something."

Arran explained the day’s events to her while he ate, and she listened intently. When told her how Doran had begun teaching him the Thousand Cuts style, a look of mild surprise appeared on her face, which increased further when she heard that Master Kallias had joined in.

"On your first day, you’ve already found someone willing to teach you the Thousand Cuts?" She nodded slowly, seeming quite pleased. "No wonder you took so long in returning. I’d expected it to be months before you’d find people willing to invest so much time in you."

"Then you know about the Thousand Cuts style?" Arran asked.

"Of course," she replied. "I mastered it centuries ago, although I suppose they will have added a few new techniques since then."

Arran frowned. "You’ve mastered it? But then, can’t you teach me yourself?"

"I can, and I will. But not yet." She smiled broadly. "If you want my instruction, you’ll have to earn it by setting the first steps yourself."

He gave her a puzzled look. "I thought the Patriarch sent us here to grow stronger. What’s the point in wasting time with adepts and Masters if you can teach us?"

"To help you grow stronger, of course," Brightblade said. Seeing Arran’s baffled expression, she let out a loud laugh. "The truth is that you still lack a solid foundation, and if I offered you proper instruction now, it would ultimately harm you."

"That makes no sense," Arran said. "You’re the best sword fighter in this Valley. How could it hurt me to have you teach me? And didn’t you spend half a year teaching me and Snowcloud already?"

"What I’ve given you so far barely qualifies as guidance," Brightblade replied. "And my skill is exactly the reason it would harm you — with your weak foundation, my influence on your progress would be too great. You would learn to perform techniques the way I do, rather than finding your own way."

"Wouldn’t that be a good thing?" Arran asked. With Brightblade’s skill, he did not see how learning her methods could be anything but beneficial.

"It wouldn’t," she responded. "Swordsmanship isn’t like magic. It relies on your body as much as it does on skill and knowledge, and your body is different from mine." She gave him an appraising look. "Very different."

Arran frowned. "So I need to adapt the styles I learn to my body?"

"Exactly," Brightblade replied. "And to be able to do so, you need to build a foundation of your own. Once you have that, I can teach you without risking having too strong an influence on you."

Arran let out a deep sigh. "I don’t suppose I can change your mind?"

While he understood her explanation, he still wasn’t fully convinced. And even if she was right, it meant he’d have to spend months or even years training before she’d properly teach him.

"Correct," she said. "Though I’ll still regularly offer you guidance — enough to make the adepts here green with envy." She flashed him a broad smile, then said, "But you should get some rest. You have novices to teach in a few hours."

Arran groaned, yet he took her advice, quickly heading to bed. A few hours of sleep would be better than none at all.

The next morning, he found the novices quite a bit more receptive to his teaching than they had been the first day. He wasn’t certain whether this was out of fear or respect, but either way, the lesson passed smoothly.

Since he could not yet instruct them in any styles, he instead sparred with them, handing out valuable — albeit painful — lessons on how their styles and techniques would fare in real fights.

Despite Arran’s harsh teaching methods, the novices were eager to face him. Having been shown their limitations, they were now clearly anxious to fix them.

After Arran and Doran finished training the novices, they ate a quick meal, then headed to their own training session.

The other students turned out to be two dozen of the House’s most-skilled adepts, and aside from Master Kallias, there were another two Masters instructing them. It was obvious that the House of Swords considered each of these adepts a treasure to be nourished and grown.

It came as little surprise to Arran that the other adepts were eager to spar with him. After his defeat of Doran, it was only natural that their curiosity had been sparked.

He spent two hours facing them one by one, defeating each of them. Some of his victories came easily while others were narrow, but in the end, the combination of his strength and experience proved too much for any of them to overcome.

The remaining hour of practice, he spent studying the Stalwart Blade and Floating Leaf styles. Doran helped him with this, but several of the other adepts joined in as well, showing their own interpretations of the styles.

This was even more useful than Doran’s demonstrations had been. Seeing different interpretations of the same styles allowed Arran to get a better understanding of the principles behind them, and in just an hour of practice, he made significant progress.

When the lesson ended, Arran was already starting to feel tired — mentally if not physically — but his training for the day was still far from over.

The moment the lesson came to an end, he was approached by Doran and Master Kallias, both of them keen to continue the previous day’s work on the Thousand Cuts style.

Arran happily obliged them. Tired though he was, the lure of the Thousand Cuts style was far too great to resist.

More hours passed quickly with the three of them engrossed in training, and it was already late afternoon when they concluded their practice for the day.

Arran returned to the mansion tired but satisfied, already looking forward to an evening enjoying some well-deserved rest.

Yet when he arrived, he found Snowcloud in the gardens, furiously practicing a style he did not recognize. It looked simpler than the ones Doran had taught him, but she was clearly struggling, and beneath her sweat-covered brow, her eyes held a look of frustration.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She stopped her sword mid-stroke, turning to him as she sheathed it.

"I can’t keep up with them," she said, a mixture of disappointment and annoyance in her voice.

"With who?"

"The adepts in my group." She sighed. "I’m strong enough to match them when sparring, but their skill... it’s far beyond anything I can do."

"That’s only natural," Arran said. "We just arrived two days ago. You can’t expect—"

"That’s not what I mean," she interrupted him. "Of course their skill is ahead of mine, but they learn much faster, too. It’s the Tempering — it allows them to pick up new techniques much faster than I can."

Arran frowned, now understanding her problem. Since she hadn’t been through the Tempering yet, learning new movements would be far more difficult for her.

"Maybe I should ask them to place me with the novices," she said dejectedly. "They won’t be much of a challenge in sparring, but at least I’ll be able to learn at the same pace."

"How about we train together?" Arran said. "We have time in the evenings, and with me helping you, you should progress faster."

For a moment, it looked as if Snowcloud would reject the offer, but then she nodded. "Thank you. I don’t know if it’ll be enough, but with your help, I’ll have a chance."

"I’ll just get something to eat first, and then we can start," Arran said.

After a quick meal of dragon meat and leftovers, he got up and stretched his muscles. Then, he began his fourth training session for the day.

The styles Snowcloud was studying were much simpler than the ones Arran had learned from Doran, and before long, he had picked up the basics. This caused Snowcloud to give him an envious glare, but it faded quickly as he set to work on helping her.

Their training lasted until well after sundown, and by the end of it, Arran was completely exhausted. While his body had little trouble enduring the day, his mind was another matter — the constant effort of learning and improving sword techniques left him almost too tired to think.

When he reached his quarters, he fell asleep in an instant.

The days that followed were much the same, with Arran spending every waking moment training until his mind was fully consumed with techniques and styles.

The progress this brought him was well beyond his expectations — within a week, he had mastered the styles Snowcloud struggled to learn, and after another week, he had learned the Stalwart Blade and Floating Leaf techniques well enough to teach them to his students.

The Thousand Cuts style, however, was another matter. While his understanding of it progressed with leaps and bounds, trying to master it was like climbing an endless mountain. With each step, it only became clearer just how long the journey ahead of him would be.

Nearly a month passed like this, though after the first week, Arran could barely tell the days apart. Each was the same as the last, and each was filled with nothing but sword training.

But then, one afternoon, he found Brightblade waiting in the mansion’s gardens when he returned from the training fields, a cheerful expression on her face and Snowcloud at her side.

"Grandmaster Solin has finally found us a suitable estate," she said, voice upbeat. "We’re leaving right now, and I expect we’ll spend the next few weeks there."

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