The tide seemed to favor Marcus. Both men could feel the momentum shift, and Marcus, emboldened by his success, pressed his attack.
Their blades met in a furious flurry, neither gaining a clear advantage. But even with Marcus' earlier success, the battle was neck and neck. Only when the battle raged on did the signs start to show that Gresvin was slowly gaining the advantage.
The battle had raged for a while, and Marcus's stamina seemed to take a hit; it was then that Gresvin subtly shifted his defense, forcing Marcus to overextend himself. Marcus' stamina was nigh-depleted when he lunged forward in one last-ditch effort while gasping for breath.
With that one movement, victory was all too close; Marcus had left himself wide open.
Gresvin seized his opportunity. He met Marcus' blade head-on, knocking it aside with a powerful blow. The wooden sword sent spinning through the air, landing with a dull thud on the ground. Marcus, disarmed, stood panting, his chest heaving.
A strained smile broke across Gresvin's face. He lowered his own sword.
"Not bad, Marcus," he said, his voice slightly raspy. "Not too bad for our first session. I quite enjoyed it."
Marcus nodded, readily agreeing with Gresvin. Although out of breath, both men smiled in contentment. Marcus accepted his defeat with a mix of disappointment and pride. They had both pushed each other to their limit, but despite the outcome, both men had gained something in return.
Gresvin, especially, had a big smile on his face. He was unaware of what Marcus was doing since his whole attention was attracted to a translucent screen in front of him. Two new messages had appeared, and both were something worth celebrating.
{News and Notifications: Gresvin had learned level 8 swordsmanship}
The message was short, but it carried a significant meaning to Gresvin as he was now almost 100% certain that his theory of the system was correct. This short message was of enormous importance to him and his future.
The second message was the cherry on top.
{Imperial Recruit - Marcus has learned level 6 swordsmanship}
Gresvin's thoughts were interrupted when he heard Marcus call out to him. Gresvin snapped out of his thoughts, and his attention returned to the training ground, where he could see Marcus slumped against a rough wooden training dummy, panting like a winded stag.
"Good fight, Marcus," Gresvin called out again with a nod of approval. Marcus grunted in response, wiping a forearm across his brow. "Good fight?" He spat, the words laced with disbelief. "I felt like a lumbering oaf swinging a club out there."
Gresvin approached, offering a hand to help him up. Marcus accepted with a groan, the effort sending a fresh wave of soreness through his muscles. "Don't be so hard on yourself," Gresvin said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "We put up one hell of a fight and that's what matters."
Marcus scoffed. "Hell of a fight? It's more like you swatted my attacks away like flies!" Shame burned in his chest. Their battle might seem even due to Marcus having a certain advantage in strength compared to Gresvin, but ultimately, Gresvin's swordsmanship was better than Marcus'.
Marcus did not lose to Gresvin in a battle of strength or speed; instead, he lost to Gresvin because he had better control and his sword skill was a level or two higher than his.
"It's not about brute force, Marcus," Gresvin said gently, his usual confident swagger softened by a touch of empathy. "A skilled swordsman can overcome strength with precision and timing."
Marcus stared at Gresvin, the words hanging heavy in the air. He knew he was right. Every time he attacked recklessly, leaving himself open, Gresvin took advantage of that and obtained victory, which was one of the factors of his success.
He ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair, the frustration evident in his furrowed brow. "I know, I know," he muttered, more to himself than Gresvin. "But sometimes it feels like I'm just… swinging a stick out there."
Gresvin chuckled a low rumble that belied the seriousness etched on his face. He gestured towards the shade of a nearby pine, the canopy of trees giving a respite from the relentless sun. "Come, let's sit for a moment."
They settled at the base of the pine tree, where the only sounds were the rhythmic chirping of crickets and the voices of birds.
"It's about more than just swinging a blade, Marcus," Gresvin began, his voice taking on a patient tone. "I may not know much and my skills are not that much better, but my Uncle once told me this: 'Think about it this way. Your sword is an extension of yourself, a tool to be wielded with control. Watch your opponent, anticipate their moves. Every attack leaves them open for a counter'."
Marcus replayed the fight in his mind, picturing the moments his attacks were easily deflected. He saw Gresvin's blade flash.
A wave of self-consciousness washed over Marcus. He winced, picturing himself as a lumbering brute, his attacks easily read by Gresvin. "So how do I improve it, how can I train to have more control?" he asked, a flicker of desperation in his voice.
Gresvin leaned back, chewing on his lower lip in thought. "I do not know," Gresvin finally said with a shrug, his voice firm. My Uncle did not teach me how to improve on it, and I had to tread that path on my own. Well, he did, of course, give me some advice. He said that he can't give me what I need as that is something I need to discover on my own."
"You have to search and find your way for me? It was actually quite simple. Basic training, swinging my blade over and over with precise control on where I would hit, how, and when. That is how I found my way," he glanced at Marcus. I don't know if it would be helpful, but that was how I learned some control."
Marcus digested this, a hesitant hope stirring within him. It wasn't a magic solution, but it was something, a path he hadn't considered before. "Alright," he said, a glimmer of determination replacing the earlier frustration.
Gresvin nodded, a genuine smile splitting his face. "Good, very good!"
***
The two days bled into each other, a peaceful rhythm settling over the tiny village nestled before the pine-cloaked slopes. Today was the 35th day of summer of the year 977, and Gresvin was about to welcome another recruit into his ranks.
The last two days were relatively straightforward. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, and the village continued on with its daily routine. Gresvin ventured into the woods on both mornings when the dew was still on the grass.
He brought his equipment with him; his hunting bow was slung over his shoulders, and his iron spatha sword hung at his waist. The sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, dappling the forest floor in a mosaic of light and shadow. The scent of pine mingled with the earthy aroma of damp soil from last night's light rain.
During one of his hunts, he had stalked one of the wood's most abundant inhabitants - red-spotted deer.
Meanwhile, the eight Imperial recruits had been sparring more frequently than before, and under Marcus' guidance and stern gaze, the warriors kept themselves busy with various battle sequences and drills.
On the first day, the training was somewhat chaotic when Marcus took command, and they started to practice drills. Marcus seemed quite adamant that the recruits parry and block more efficiently than any other style. It seemed his battle with Gresvin had inspired him to learn how to defend efficiently without wasting too much energy.
As the warriors sparred and kept watch over the village, the villagers toiled away in the small field beyond the village square. Every villager, young and old, man and woman, pitched in to help.
The men took care of the harder, more gritty groundwork while the Women in simple sundresses weeded rows of vegetables and took care of the other newly grown sprouts. The village had planted two crops in the form of barley and wheat around two weeks prior. Due to the rather unsatisfactory weather over the last few weeks, the two crops took longer to sprout; they had only made themselves visible the day before.
When dusk painted the sky in fiery hues, the villagers congregated around a crackling bonfire in the center of the square, like they always had. The villagers told stories or tales, gossiped and sang, danced, and laughed around the fire.
One night, a wizened old woman took her time to tell a tale. Her voice was raspy due to age but still held a captivating lilt. She told a tale of a time when a specific part of the plains was alive with wildflowers, their vibrant colors stretching as far as the eye could see. Her tale had enamored all, and no one could keep their attention off her as she continued.
The wizened woman's tale was only but one of the wondrous and mesmerizing tales that had been spoken.
***
Gresvin had woken up early in the morning, and he had already completed his hunt and training session in the woods when he came walking down the hill toward the cabins. There, he spotted a man dressed in somewhat the same manner as the Imperial recruits.
Gresvin was surprised for a moment as he did not know this stranger, but he quickly understood, 'The new recruit!' he happily smiled. Gresvin made his way over, and before he could introduce himself, the recruit bowed and saluted, "Greetings my Lord."
Gresvin was taken aback and could only give a helpless sigh. 'I guess that's one perk of having a system. They know of me even before we are introduced.'
"Morning." He greeted him in return, "What's your name?"
Gresvin observed the man closely. The man was middle-aged, with a towering height and broad shoulders. His hair was short, iron gray, with a few specks of white in between. His face was full of weathered lines, but it could not contain his rough but stoic look, which was complemented by his piercing blue eyes and salt-and-pepper-trimmed beard.
"Arlo Thorne, my Lord," the man answered in a low but gravelly voice. 'Mm?' Gresvin was surprised by the rather curt reply but shook his head lightly and spoke, "Welcome to Coedwig Arlo."
Arlo nodded in thanks. 'The silent type huh?' Gresvin realized that Arlo did not speak much, and as he continued to introduce the village of Coedwig to Arlo, that thought was cemented.
Arlo had hardly spoken up, even when he met Marcus. He greeted Marcus with a nod and nothing else, which led to a rather strange yet somewhat awkward situation. As such, the two men did not linger too much, and Gresvin continued to introduce Arlo to the other warriors and villagers.
After a quick tour of the village, Arlo settled in one of the vacant cabins.
Gresvin, on the other hand, went to meet up with Marcus as they were about to have a sparring match. After the first day of sparring, both Gresvin and Marcus' skills had yet to upgrade again, but Gresvin was not disappointed by such developments. He knew it would take a while longer for them to advance.
But even though the two men did not have an upgrade in skill, the other warriors seemed to have varying degrees of success. When Gresvin realized what the skill section meant on the system window, he looked at each recruit individually; each recruit had a different amount of skill.
After two days, many of them had advanced their skills by one level, and some even made two advances.
The warriors' development was a good thing, and their advancements brought a smile to Gresvin's face. As Gresvin made his way toward the training area, he could not help but recall the information he had gotten regarding the new recruit.
Gresvin was given quite a pleasant surprise when he saw that Arlo's swordsmanship was at level 7, almost at the same level as Gresvin, one level higher than even Marcus.
With that being the case, Gresvin wanted to talk with Marcus about Arlo. Marcus was already the designated commander of the imperial recruits, and Gresvin had no intention of changing that.
Paragraph comment
Paragraph comment feature is now on the Web! Move mouse over any paragraph and click the icon to add your comment.
Also, you can always turn it off/on in Settings.
GOT IT