Quiote: Since I missed yesterday's posting, I'll post twice today. chapter es out in 2 mins!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Csh of Steel

  Bram had o task before he could set out on a new adve was why he brought Chris to the bastion’s training grounds.

  “This pce could do with a bit of polish,” Rowan ented.

  She’d tagged along with them because she had nothier to do. Not now that Hajime wasn’t around to bully, which was the specific word she used for training him.

  They arrived at the entrao a courtyard sandwiched between the inner keep that housed the Oaken Hall and the western wall that guarded the bastion’s residents from the cliff’s edge behind it.

  “I don’t know,” Chris’ gaze swept the yard, “I like hh it looks.”

  He s the air.

  “Smells of sweat and hard work.” The Texan grinned.

  Though he appreciated Chris’ ses, Bram didn’t think an otherworlder’s gym was anything like the training grounds of his bastion with its many implements of death and struggle.

  Racks filled with all manner of ons envisioned by the smiths of the Imperium waited in one er of the regur space, even the rare double-sided hat were the signature tools of the sky rangers of Navarra. These ons weren’t the wooden variety on in training halls but made of bastion-fed steel and sharpened so thhly that they easily cut through flesh. A siderable expense, for certain, but ohat Bastille’s seneschal deemed of utmost importance. Within this training ground h stone floor, Ser Anthony sought te warriors who could protect his prince from all dangers.

  Recalling how well Baer and his fellow traitors had fought, Bram thought Ser Anthony was succeeding at least in training them. Loyalty was another matter entirely.

  “They’ve even got a jungle gym,” Chris mused aloud.

  The Texan’s gaze was fixed on another er of the training grounds and the weightlifting tools set up there. Iron framing and wooden pnks made up a short obstacle course that was like a death trap of swinging axes, rotating sickles, and, seemingly to Chris’ delight, a pool of processed slime.

  “Yep, this will be my favorite spot in the bastion,” he decided.

  “Right,” Rowan shook her head, “you and our prince are cut from the same cloth.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Bram said, flexing his muscles food measure.

  It was an act Chris copied. “Ditto.”

  ‘g!’

  The sound of steel g against steel eheir banter, drawing the trio’s attention toward the tral arena. There, trading sword blows as if she were born to be a warrior…was Bridget Fowling.

  Bram raised an eyebrow. “I thought she was a writer?”

  In Bridget’s hand was not a pen but a short sword of two-and-a-half feet ih, its single edge gleaming underh the light of the twin moons.

  “She is, but she’s also a big MMA nut,” Chris chuckled.

  “MMA?”

  “Mixed martial arts…from what Rowan's told me about your st fights, then it's kind of like what you do, Boss.”

  While Chris expihe intricacies of Earth’s martial arts se, Bridget showed the pris potential in duels. Holding her on in a reversed grip made it easier to parry a sword blow meant to cut her shoulder while allowing Bridget room to maneuver in such a heated close-quarters-fight.

  ‘g!’

  Sparks flew as Bridget blocked one blow after another in a deft showing of defealent. In the same breath, she tried to grab her oppo’s outstretched wrist with her free hand, but the knight who wielded a saber against her was no easy prey either.

  She was Ser Aveline Alrd, a middle-aged woman with short copper hair and a scar across her nose who’d learo wield her saber under Ser Anthony’s tutege.

  Like the other knights that the seneschal had summoo Lotharin to serve the prince, Ser Aveline had bee to be Bram’s sword and shield…a role Rowan had taken up. He’s had few occasions to i with her and her fellow knights though because they’d been avoiding the ill-fated prince as most of his household did, so this might be the first time he’d seen Ser Aveline smile.

  ‘g!’

  Ser Aveline’s and Bridget’s bdes locked together, both smiling like mad fools drunk with the madness only a duel could induce.

  “Bridget’s a natural,” Rowan noted.

  “Has she had training before?” Bram followed up.

  “Karate and Judo, I think,” Chris’ brow sched together, “maybe some Krav Maga.”

  Bram cast a curious expression at Chris. “Krav Maga…?”

  “It’s a self-defe geared for close-quarters fights meant to keep you alive as long as possible,” Chris’ face turned ptive, “or, you know, surprise someone enough to earn the kill shot.”

  As if to prove Chris’ words true, Bridget performed a stunt rarely seen in duels—she let go of her on.

  This astonishi of daring didn’t just end the sword lock between her and Ser Aveline, but it left Bridget vulnerable to the knight’s saber ing down on her arm. Or it should have, but Bridget sidestepped the blow at the st sed, f Ser Avelio move forward, leaving her vulnerable to the short sword now aimed at her gut, which Bridget had dropped with one hand and then caught with her other hand.

  “It was a good move,” Bram ceded, “but not enough.”

  He saw Bridget’s sword waver just before it could draw blood, and that instance of indecision cost the bloherworlder.

  Unlike Bridget, Ser Aveline was used to the threat of death. Instead of c back from the sword aimed at her midse, the knight who’d traded her armor for a trainee’s leather padding barreled forward, sending her shoulder crashing intet’s bosom with such force that the bloherworlder ushed back before she could resume her attack.

  Then, with Bridget’s footing promised, Ser Aveline kicked out at her stoma a move that reminded Bram of his victory over a knight of the White Rose. The kick sent Bridget crashing butt-first onto the ground, where she was uo react to the tip of Ser Aveline’s sword brushing against her neck.

  “I surrender,” Bridget said, breathless.

  “You sacrificed sure footing for a killing blow.” Ser Aveline’s voice was low and melodic, but there was a hint of approval ione. “Had yamble worked, it would have been me on the floor instead of you.”

  While the copper-haired knight helped Bridget up, she asked the bloherworlder where she’d learo fight and if Bridget might be willing to trade teiques with her.

  “I teach you the swift sword I use in exge for your defeyle,” Ser Aveline said, to which Bridget quickly replied, “Hell yes — let’s do it.”

  Hearing them caused a grin to spread on Bram’s face.

  An exge of ideas and expertise, this was exactly what he was hoping to achieve for Lotharin’s sake as much as his own. Here and now, without his prompting, su exge was truly beginning.

  “Well done. Both of you.” Bram stepped out of the shadows the inner keep cast on the courtyard. “It was a good match.”

  Silence.

  Ohey noticed the prince had arrived, the noise around the training grounds died down, and only awkward silence remaihis wasn’t a special circumstahough. Bram often made people unfortable whenever he appeared at a gathering. It was one of the reasons he preferred being in disguise. However, this time, there was also an undercurrent of tension in the air, one whose ins Bram already guessed at.

  Two is came to mind.

  There was the flogging of the city’s guardsmen who’d been caught drinking instead of perf their duties as they should have. It had been nearly two weeks since, but the severity of their punishment—how Ser Anthony showed no mer giving it—seemed fresh in the minds of the gathered guardsmen.

  Then there was the more ret i of betrayal within the ranks of his household’s soldiers.

  Baer’s betrayal had shaken Bram’s trust in them, and for days, the soldiers of his household were questioo see how many more rats were hiding among them. A few were discovered and rooted out, although all shared the stigma of mistrust. This, more than his reputation as a magicless fool, was the cause of the awkward looks Bram received from those sworn to be his swords.

  In short, trust and camaraderie within the bastion were at an all-time low, though Bram hoped to ge this before he left for his adventure. Fortunately, he wasn’t alone in this thinking.

  “Well met, Yhness,” said Ser Aveline.

  She bowed her head, and the athered nearby followed suit.

  Bram couldn’t help but feel grateful.

  “Raise your heads,” he insisted. “I’ve told you all, you bow to me. Just serve me well.”

  “They ot do that,” said the old knight who’d been from a shadowy er. “All must show due defereo the Sn’s blood.”

  “When was the st time you showed me deference?” Bram asked, chug.

  Ser Anthony exhaled a pilr of smoke he’d inhaled from his pipe.

  “Being strict with you is my way of showing deference, Yhness.”

  The seneschal reeked of grass and mud when he arrived at his prince’s side, but Bram didn’t dislike this aroma anymore now that he’d enjoyed cloud weed himself.

  “We’ll end training here,” he said out loud.

  The soldiers and guardsmen took his and as their cue to escape, with Bridget thanking them for participating in what she dubbed, “The interview.”

  “Don’t lose your promissory notes,” she remihem. “You ’t cim the griffins you earoday without them!”

  Earlier today, Bram had unlocked his vault to ence the soldiers and guardsmen to participate in Bridget’s interview, the ruse meant to hide that she was cataloging their jobs and abilities to add to the Loom’s new job system, which, until yesterday, had only three entries. It didn’t mean the Loom couldn’t create jobs by itself. However, providing it with already-established information helped expand the job list faster.

  So, with the promise of a hefty pouch of griffins, the soldiers of Bram’s household readily showed off their skills tet while not knowing that their hard-earalents would serve the great uaking’s cause.

  After a short versation with Ser Anthony and a promise of more training with Bridget, Ser Aveline was the st to leave the training grounds.

  Ohey were alohe others praised Bridget for her duel, with Chris asking her when she’d learo fight like she did.

  “I spend my weekends at the Krav Maga Institute on the er of Broadway ahirtieth. My boyfriend’s one of the instructors there,” she expined.

  “Heck, I didn’t know Biosoft had weekends,” Chris chuckled, but, as an afterthought, added, “New boyfriend?”

  “Fairly ret,” Bridget admitted.

  Chris looked unfortable. “Does, um, Hajime know?”

  “Don’t know.” Bridget wiped the sweat on her brow with the towel Rowan offered her. “We don’t really talk about retionships.”

  “Yep, I figured,” Chris sighed.

  Bram, who knew of Hajime’s secret crush as well, couldn’t help but uand Chris’ frustration. However, romance was ohing the prince couldn’t help with because he’d never had a problem with it himself, having mostly been on the receiving end of others’ admiration. Of course, this was only true for oner suitors or those few nobles who had yet to discover his ill-fated reputation.

  “Did you get everything you needed?” Bram asked.

  “Enough to start with.” Bridget motiohe group over to a nearby table. “Here, have a look.”

  It was stacked with piles of scrolls and books.

  “Yuys loved showing off, so it was easy to get them to perform,” she expined.

  Both Bram and Chris exged looks.

  The strands of hair ging to her flushed face, the sweat that coated her shirt, and her charming smile; they suspected Bridget’s appearance had much to do with his household’s cooperation.

  “Some of them even shared their training manuals. Most of its stuff that’s already in your library, Prince Bram, but some of it,” Bridget took a scroll from the pile and unfurled it for Bram, “like this one…”

  The Fleet-Footed Step

  “…It’s a manual for a mobility spell that the Loom’s tagged as a rare piece,” she happily reported, adding, “We turn these into skill books that pyers earn as rare quest rewards with low drop rates…”

  “…Encing them to repeat quests we’ll hem to keep doing,” Chris fihe thought. “That’s a good one, Bridge.”

  “I know,” she grinned.

  Bridget further expihat she’d cataloged a total of fourteen new jobs along with hundreds of new abilities. She’d even finished iing these into the Loom’s job system before her duel with Ser Aveline.

  “The All-Seeing Eye made it easy to analyze stuff,” she said. “Might be more useful thahought.”

  Most of the team grew enthusiastic about the updated system, though Rowan dampeheir enthusiasm with only a few words.

  “With the number of people here earlier, I expected more than fourteen,” she said.

  “Holy, there wasn’t a lot of variety with this group,” Bridget admitted, although also adding, “But people with the same jobs do use their abilities differently, so seeing these varying habits might be helpful to us.”

  To Bram, it sounded like the st part had been Bridget’s attempt at soling him for his ck of petent men.

  “Did you get other knights besides Ser Avelio participate?” he asked.

  “All except one,” Bridget reported.

  Her brown-eyed gaze drifted to the old knight standing behind the prince.

  “ht,” Bram nodded.

  The priuro face his loyal knight, though, as their gazes locked, he couldn’t find the words.

  It was a shameful thing to ask his seneschal to allow the Loom to e the skills Ser Anthony had worked all his life to achieve, something most true masters of their respective jobs would be loathed to do.

  Fortunately, the old knight already knew what his prince wanted.

  “To ask me to share my skills with people who have ion to me or my house…” Ser Anthony shook his head. “You’ve grown bolder since being governor, Yhness.”

  “Is it an impossible proposition?” Bram pressed.

  He didn’t bother Ser Anthony money or a promotion for his knowledge. His seneschal had served as a member of the Sn-Guard before Bram was born, and as a former ‘Knight Champion’ of the Sh, prestige, and position were his already. Indeed, Ser Anthony could have done anything in his ter years, but his loyalty to Bram’s mother made him choose to bee the protector of a prince whose ill fate no one else would touch.

  So, instead of plying him with sweet words or false promises, Bram could only ask his panion of many years for this great favor while knowing he could offer Ser Anthony nothing iurn.

  “Despite my ambitions…I ’t achieve greatness alone. I’m too weak…” Bram’s hands balled into fists. “I he strength of others to help me with the great uaking — to raise Lotharin from its dee — and finally bee a prince worthy of my bloodline…”

  Ser Anthony was the only member of Bram’s household who knew of his schemes to wield the knowledge of the other world for Lotharin’s sake. His seneschal didn’t have a full uanding of Bram’s pns, but it was a sign of Ser Anthony’s loyalty that he hadn’t tried to stop his prince from enag a stratagem whiy right-minded sorcerer might assume was a dangerous and foolhardy endeavor.

  “What you ask of me isn’t an impossible proposition, Yhness.”

  His seneschal walked over to the ter of the training hall where Bridget had dueled Ser Aveline.

  “As you know, my time as a champion of the imperium left me with no opportunity to start a family.” He spoke in a wistful tone. “Officially, my only heir is my younger brother Axel, who, like me, chose the path of the sword rather than bee a lord.”

  House Holmes was the hereditary ruler of Dunhallow, a shire in the Highnd Kingdom of Tara, a nd separated from Bram’s kingdom by the ‘Gaullian el’ to its northwest.

  By rights, Ser Anthony was an eorl like Bram, though he’d relinquished his title at a young age when he chose to serve in the Sn-guard whose members weren’t allowed to be nded lords.

  “I have no child who will i what I have to pass on…” Ser Anthony gazed at Bram with great fondness. “At least not one who carries my blood.”

  Emotion filled Bram’s chest. “Ser Anthony…”

  It was true that his seneschal had treated a young Bram more like a family member rather than a knight who served his liege. As the prince grew older, the dynamic between them didn’t ge, and Bram didn’t want it to. For him, Ser Anthony was like his favorite uncle who’d showered Bram with the affe no one else would give him. The old knight was his protector, his teacher, and his orue friend.

  Bram lowered his gaze.

  Though he felt great affe for his seneschal, it was also true that Bram was suffog from the weight of Ser Anthony’s expet gaze. For only he of all Bram’s retainers believed the prince could still achieve greatness. Despite his efforts though, Bram had failed to meet those expectations time and time again.

  “But if I’m to share my talents with those uo me…”

  Ser Anthony’s choice of words caused Bram to look up.

  “Shouldn’t the heir I’ve chosen be first to i the art of the ‘Peerless Heart Sword’ that I’ve mastered?”

  “S-Ser Anthony…?”

  With a smile, the old knight drew his longsword from its sheath. “I believe a new lesson is overdue.”

  GD_Cruz