Ten years before An Aimless War

"Atricen! What have I always told you about pulling out that knife during a fight?"

"That it isn't respectable," Acen replied dutifully, but he didn't let the matter drop, he never did. "I don't understand, father. You say that the lords won't trust me if I'm not fighting 'properly', but if using my knife saves a lord's life, will he really care that it isn't respectable?"

Acen's father stood across from him in the small courtyard. It was supposed to be their last duel, a father and son bonding moment before Acen was sent off to join the army. It wasn't surprising that they had started bickering. Acen had been training his whole life, and he was just as good, if not already better, than his father. However, where the older lord loved all the spoken and unspoken rules about fighting, Acen didn't see the point. When it came down to it, he thought that being able to defeat his opponent was more important than following the rules and dying because of them.

"Atricen, who are you?"

Acen knew what his father was getting at, he'd heard it all before. "Lord Atricen from West Draulin, second child to Lord Atrick, never going to inherit anything because Aveya's getting it all."

Lord Atrick glossed over the jab at his daughter and said, "and?"

"And a knight, one day."

"And knights fight like knights. I haven't been training you your whole life for you to turn around and fight like some farmer's boy. You're a lord, Atricen. So you must act like one."

"But it doesn't make sense," Acen said. "Why should we all fight the same way? Everybody has different strengths and weaknesses and wouldn't it be more effective to play to them? If I was one of the big lords, I'd appreciate it if my guards fought to the best of their abilities instead of being chivalrous towards the people attacking me."

"If you were one of the big lords, you could hire those people," Lord Atrick said. "But you aren't. Now, put it away and let's get back to fighting like gentlemen."

Acen slipped the knife back into its little sheath and held up his dull duelling sword. He attacked first, suddenly, and in moments had knocked his father's sword to the ground. He stepped back to allow his father to retrieve the sword. Duelling was boring. It was the same patterns, the same movements, over and over again. Acen doubted that a real enemy would stick to the arrangements. Anyone who was desperate to kill someone would do whatever it took. His father had never seen a real battle. He looked at fighting like a gentlemanly sport. Acen rolled his shoulders and held up his sword again, but his father shook his head.

"No, Atricen. We're done for now. You're clearly ready. Now tell me, when we go meet Lord West Draulin tomorrow, what you going to tell him?"

Acen slipped his sword under his belt to free up his hands. "That I'd like to be a knight."

Lord Atrick nodded. "And next year?"

Acen sighed and repeated the words he'd said time and time again. "I'll put myself forth for Lord Tandrix's guard tryouts." Then he went off script. "Although, there will be plenty of talented men trying out. I don't think we can assume I'll be chosen. Let alone becoming the guard captain."

"Nonsense. Our family has been closely serving the Tandrans for centuries. You'll be chosen," Lord Atrick said. "And you'll become the captain. This time next year you'll be one of the most famous knights in the city. You'll do our family proud."

A new voice cut in. "What about me?"

Acen turned, delighted to see his uncle leaning in the doorway. Sir Atricell was a knight, and one of Acen's idols. Usually he wore city armour, but today he was dressed more casually. Still, he had a sword hanging from his hip.

Lord Atrick was less impressed by the interruption. "You lost your charge."

Atricell shook his head. "I didn't lose my charge. He left. But I was still his guard captain, for a time." He pushed himself up from the doorframe and stepped into the courtyard. "You'll be very pleased to know that the Tandrans are already keeping an eye on Acen."

"They are?" Atrick asked.

While they talked, Acen's thoughts wandered. He couldn't deny that the idea of being a captain excited him. It would give him some control over a group of knights, which meant he could let them fight to their strengths. He could show people like his father that fighting wasn't a game with strict rules. A good knight had to be creative and spontaneous. A good knight had to be able to use a variety of weapons and know how to fight against a variety of weapons. The possibility of sharing his ideas with people who would listen was thrilling.

"And anyway," Acen's uncle continued. "Lord Tandrix will be going to the Order, just as Lord Tanden did. It gave us a lot of time to train together. Honestly, I know our family has taken serving the Tandrans as our sworn duty. But it is a bit of a shame that Acen and I weren't sent to the Order."

"If I had sent Atricen to the Order, he wouldn't be in West Draulin for the tryouts."

"I know," Atricell said. "It would have overlapped for me, too. I'm just pointing out that the Tandrans are probably the only big family who don't hire personal guards straight out of the Order. In any case..."

"Uncle," Acen interrupted. "Maybe you would duel me? But not with this." He pulled the training sword from his belt and tossed it aside. "With real swords."

Atricell smiled, obviously pleased. "I would. But we don't have matching styles." He nodded towards Acen's knife. "You like to use that in your left hand, don't you? I tend to use a shield."

"That's exactly why I want to duel you," Acen said. "Father and I fight the same way, more or less. You'll move differently. Isn't it a good thing if I learn to read your movements?"

Atricell nodded. "It is a good idea. Atrick, with your permission?"

Acen's father nodded. "Fine. Have at it. Just don't teach my son any bad habits."

"I wouldn't dare." Atricell quickly chose a shield from the rack of various training weapons against the far wall. He chose a sword for Acen and carried them both into the middle of the courtyard.

Acen accepted the sword and took a few steps back. Without looking at his father, he drew his knife with his left hand. Atricell pulled out his own sword.

Acen watched his uncle carefully. Normally, he tried to make the first move. This time he watched and tried to understand what his uncle was thinking. Neither of them moved, and Acen knew his uncle was looking at him in the exact same way.

He wasn't used to fighting against people with shields. Atricell's left side was well protected.

Atricell took a step to the right, and Acen mimicked him so that they were slowly circling each other. "What are you thinking?" Atricell asked.

"I need to get your shield out of the way," Acen said.

"You could try."

Acen lunged, then froze just as suddenly when the tip of his uncle's sword ended up pointed at his chest.

Atricell chuckled. "If you focus on the shield, you aren't watching my sword." He stepped back. "Try it again. Watch the sword."

They started to circle again. Acen watched how his uncle kept the shield steady, and he thought about the knife in his own left hand. He stepped forward again. This time, he met Atricell's sword with the knife, forcing the sword to harmlessly swing to the left. Then, before he could move again, Atricell shoved him with the shield. Acen stumbled back a few steps and by the time his footing was secure, his uncle's sword was between them again.

"It isn't just to protect me," Atricell said. "I can attack with it too, if I have to."

Lord Atrick spoke up from where he was watching the duel. "He isn't likely to fight men with shields in the fortress. There isn't much room in the corridors, shields would get in the way."

"Maybe not in the fortress, but—" Atricell cut himself off to block another attack. "Oh, you thought you'd get me when I was distracted?"

Acen shrugged as he backed up again. "Worth a shot."

They kept at it for some time. Acen tried different ways to get through his uncle's shield. Nothing worked. After the seventh or eighth attempt, while they were circling again, Acen had a thought. He kept trying to force Atricell to drop the shield, or at least to make Atricell move the shield out of the way. But why? It was the very first thing he had told his uncle. And Atricell's reply, a simple 'you could try'. Dismissive, like he knew it wouldn't work.

Acen moved forward again. This time, when his uncle swung, Acen stepped to the left. He met Atricell's sword with his own and forced it to point down. At the same moment, he jabbed his knife forward.

They both froze when Acen's knife poked Atricell's hip.

Atricell smiled. "All right. So you stab me. Then what?"

"Then..." Acen looked at the way they were standing, at where their arms and weapons were. In the heat of the moment, he knew his knife wouldn't incapacitate someone immediately. Atricell would still have some fight left in him. "I have your sword pinned, so you might instinctively try to swing over with the shield to hit me. Or you might drop it and try to punch me. So, I'd duck, and—"

Acen was suddenly on his back, and in the moment it took him to understand that Atricell had tripped him, Atricell's sword was pointing at his chest again.

Acen groaned. "All right, I yield."

Atricell laughed. He slid his sword into its sheath, then offered Acen his hand, and pulled him to his feet. "You're really good. Don't be discouraged. I've been a knight since before you were born."

Acen smiled. He may have been defeated, but having an opponent who actually challenged him had been really fun. "Well, you probably would die from the stab wound eventually, anyway. So in the end I still killed you."

"I probably would have," Atricell agreed. "So if you remember anything from this exercise, remember that dying men are desperate, and desperate men are unpredictable."

The words carried a weight the rest of their conversation hadn't. Acen nodded firmly. "I'll remember."