64 The Provost's Final Advice

His dreams returned once more to his parents and his brother. Happy memories of the past flitted by: new video games that he used to play with his younger brother and the board games his parents loved in the past. When he woke, a tear slid down his cheek. Once he was done with his revenge, he would return home to Earth. In a world of magic, there had to be a way to cross back to his world. He refused to believe otherwise.

He wondered why he dreamed such dreams now. The tournament was fast approaching. While he was becoming a better fight at a rapid pace, he needed all his wits about him in this final day of practice. Provost Thomson suggested only a single sparring session in the morning, allowing him to recuperate in the evening in preparation for the next day. Entering the arena exhausted was a death wish, Jacob agreed.

It was odd; in the few days he'd been at Relentless Blade College, he'd become quite acclimated to the academy-like atmosphere. Students walked around from class to class, whether it was physical conditioning or polearms practice. Unlike Jacob, the graduates of Relentless would be trained on all weapons, though they would each specialize. Most turned to the longsword because of the might it represented, but a sizable chunk chose alternative weapons. It was those fighters that represented the greatest threat to the inexperienced Jacob.

Without his magic, he had no way to close distance fast enough to counter weapons with longer reach. A skilled spearman might spell the end for his bid at the final four. Provost Thomson had practiced briefly with him using various lengthier weapons. Unfortunately, she wasn't half as skilled in those other weapons as with the longsword, turning her into an average fighter when she was utilizing a relatively unfamiliar weapon. It wasn't too difficult for Jacob to take advantage of that fact and eke out victory after victory.

He was much more scared of Duke's Iron Guard Captain – and the head of the Thomson household – James Thomson. The man was the one Commander Ericksson had interacted with in the military sector of the city. While Baron Thomson was wearing a longsword at that point, as was mandated by the Duke's standards, he was reputed to be a monster with a poleax. It was a brutally difficult weapon to master, but the baron had done so. If he entered the competition, which Provost Thomson assured Jacob was unlikely, Jacob stood no chance.

"Surely, my odds at winning are long at best then," Jacob argued with his temporary instructor after having lost yet another bout. It was closer than it had been yesterday, with Jacob nearly managing to force the Provost backwards. Not a feat to write home about, but it was meaningful. It represented growth. Their magical duels no longer tired Jacob all that much; his meditations had increased his mana reserves significantly. If he really tried, he estimated that he could summon two spikes the size of a human from the earth. Wind magic was much more difficult to measure in such a fashion, but it was safe to say that the energy he consumed manipulating wind was far less than what he used with earth.

"Yes, they are. I'm glad you realize that. Your best advantage is your unusual weapon and the mystery you represent. For the first few fights, your opponents will have next to no information on you," Provost Thomson rolled her shoulders, releasing the tension she had developed there. Jacob copied her; it was a good idea.

"Will the mages be doing anything like the warriors?" Jacob asked, internalizing the advice the Provost offered.

"They are a haughty bunch, and they prefer not to muddy their hands. That being said, most of them will be in attendance at our Autumn Tournament. The most important of their ranks will often get announced much as the high nobles will," she returned, shaking her head at the mention of the magical upper class. "As unfortunate as your situation is, Jacob, I'm glad you won't turn into one of those uppity fops."

Jacob laughed, letting loose a full-belly howl. Her words so perfectly encompassed the mages he'd met thus far. Even the guards at the Academy were haughty in their own way. The only notable exceptions to this rule had been when the mages attached to the Fourth stayed to fight rather than fleeing. It was a pleasant surprise, and they were a large part of the reason why a thousand soldiers still stood.

A part of him wanted to confess about his plans to undo his servitude, but the rational part of him defended the secret. If he hid it from Edward, a trusted friend, he wouldn't give it away even to someone as seemingly earnest as Provost Thomson. She gave off the feeling that she would do whatever was fun in any given circumstance. Briefly, Jacob wondered how she even got tethered to Relentless Blade College. He decided to ask, given that this was their last training session together anyway.

Provost Thomson glared at him playfully before giving him an honest answer. "It was my uncle, Baron Thomson, who ordered me to take this position. As much as I'd rather be out there as a soldier or mercenary to explore the world, I'm obligated to follow my family head's orders." A note of sadness rang true, and Jacob felt for the woman. Much like Cynthia had been forced to take up the sword, Sara Thomson had been forced to take up the mantle of Provost. Though it was an illustrious position, it acted much like the collar that kept Jacob bound.

The Thomson family seemed to be honor-bound and old-fashioned. Apart from being Duke Hycinth's largest supporters, they were also staunch defenders of the King. Perhaps Jacob would wind up fighting them one day, if his rebellion came to fruition. With any luck at all, he wouldn't see Provost Thomson arrayed against him.

He left the training room in deep thought, strategies for the Autumn Tournament the furthest from his attention.