Chapter 12 Clashing Wooden Swords
Spirits were tense.
Oscar planted his feet as well. A soldier gave the signal—and immediately, Rossi lunged forward. His speed was impressive. Where Günther was the force of a raging torrent, Rossi was the wind itself. In two strides, he was at Oscar’s flank, and without the young man’s sharpened reflexes, the duel would have ended in a single blow.
Crack. Oscar deflected Rossi’s blade. Dust flew. The clash echoed across the training ground, splinters scattering. A well-placed kick sent Oscar stumbling back a full metre. Rossi’s movements were difficult to anticipate. Without releasing his weapon, Oscar realised this would be difficult. Rossi was fast. Truly fast—far faster than Günther.
Before him, Rossi recovered his stance with ease, even allowing himself a moment to study the young man. Oscar noticed a new seriousness in his gaze; perhaps he had impressed him.
The respite was brief. Rossi struck head-on. The swords collided—then again. The flank. The knee. The hip. The commander gave Oscar no respite. The young man parried, barely. The pace was relentless.
He wasn’t used to this.
No…
He shook his head.
That was just an excuse.
Wood struck wood again. Oscar exhaled sharply, pouring his strength into his counterblow. The commander’s moustache twisted into a startled grimace.
He stepped back—no, he was forced back.
Oscar surged forward. To no avail: Rossi was already moving again, faster than him. Oscar swept his sword in a wide arc, which the commander avoided with ease. Worse—it was an opening. From here, Rossi could strike his abdomen, his heart.
Oscar swung his free arm against the wood. The impact jolted his body. The wood was hard—but it wouldn’t uproot him. Rossi hesitated for a second, confused—or worried. He was open. Oscar’s sword swung toward his face.
The commander retreated—one step, two, three. Oscar followed, hounding him. His movements grew precise, aggressive. He aimed for the abdomen. A strike from Rossi slammed the tip of Oscar’s sword into the dirt, leaving him exposed. Foolish mistakes. Günther must be mortified.
Oscar lashed out with his leg, sweeping the commander, who quickly recovered.
Normally, he would have had time to rush his opponent. Not here. He was beginning to understand why Rossi commanded the troops.
Oscar felt his speed increase—his intensity sharpen.
The blow the commander landed nearly took him off his feet. Rossi chained his strikes together, and Oscar defended himself as best he could. Each parry was an effort; at every moment, he thought the sword might be torn from his hands. It reminded him of Günther at the start of his training.
Even so… Rossi didn’t strike as hard as Günther.
Oscar faltered. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rossi’s fatal blade poised to pierce his chest.
The young Lord’s feet anchored themselves to the ground. With a snarl, he slammed his sword against the commander’s. He was off balance—weakening meant being cut down.
His shoulders tensed. He poured all his strength into the clash of wood.
Splinters burst outward, embedding themselves in the dirt as Rossi staggered back.
Oscar regained his footing, ready to continue. In his hand, his sword was cracked, twisted—the wood seemingly imploded. Sir Rossi stared at his own blade, in a similar state, perplexed.
He cast a serious look at Oscar, unsure how to judge him, then lowered his weapon.
“Let us stop the fight here.”
The young man frowned.
“Without a victor?”
“My Lord, you lack training. And yet your skills are remarkable. With more experience, I believe you would have defeated me soundly.”
Oscar straightened, raising an eyebrow.
“So you acknowledge my abilities?”
“I acknowledge your potential. However, you are reckless—and had we continued, I fear I could not have won without seriously injuring you.” He paused. “Still, I remain impressed by your initiative.”
Disappointed, Oscar moved to sheath his sword instinctively.
“So—I lack training.”
“I spotted several moments where you might have bitten the dust,” Günther laughed, clapping his protégé on the shoulder. Oscar pulled a face, embarrassed by his clumsy performance. Rossi cleared his throat.
“In truth, you fought very well. I say this sincerely: your potential is impressive,” the commander reaffirmed, holding the split sword. “You may use the training grounds as you wish. I understand you already underwent rigorous training in the South.”
A spark lit the young man’s eyes.
“Thank you very much!”
Oscar put his jacket back on as the battalion returned indoors. Out of the corner of his eye, Brynn’s silhouette moved away from one of the windows.
Perhaps…
Outside, the clouds released a fine rain. Conversation buzzed now; Frédéric and Günther came to congratulate him, not without good-naturedly pointing out his mistakes. It even seemed to the young Lord that the soldiers had warmed to him. Perhaps his poor showing had accomplished something after all.
“You should have your wrist looked at,” Sir Rossi remarked. “Using your body as a shield is unwise.” He shot Günther a sidelong glance before continuing. “Unless, of course, you learned that from your remarkable mentor.”
Oscar shook his head.
“Günther advises against it, but it’s an old habit that clings to me. However, Sir Rossi,” the young Lord continued, changing the subject, “may I have your approval to explore the Eastern Forest? With an escort, if necessary.”
Sir Rossi raised an eyebrow.
“No unauthorised person goes into the Eastern Forest, I regret to say, my Lord.”
“And who is authorised?”
“The soldiers—and those whom Her Grace the Duchess deems capable.”
At Oscar’s silence, Sir Rossi quickly realised he was unlikely to let the matter drop. He sighed and glanced at Günther.
“If you train here regularly, perhaps the rule may be reconsidered… But know that the Eastern Forest holds little interest, save for brigands.”
“If nothing can be done about it, I shall, for now, confine myself to rigorous training.”
In his gaze, Oscar saw that Sir Rossi was relieved—certainly relieved not to have to argue further with the young noble.
When Oscar left the barracks, the downpour had intensified.
It was weather meant for staying indoors.