57 The Provost's Wisdom

His sword training worked wonders. He felt more confident wielding his spatha than the day before and he was feeling some of the connection he had built to the heavy blade. The weapon was not yet truly under his control, but it was responding to him now. Provost Thomson stepped into the room just as Jacob was beginning some stretches that he had learned in karate years ago (he hadn't stuck with the sport because there was no way his legs were meant to bend the way his sensei wanted them to).

"You're up early, Jacob of Leafburrow. Are you so eager to win this tournament that you'll work from dawn to dusk?" she sauntered into the room, eyes passing over the weapon at Jacob's feet. "You need to take breaks if you want to actually get any use from training, you know. Rushing never did anyone any favors."

Jacob considered her words. "I'd normally agree with you, Provost, but I have a duel this evening that I must prepare for. I have no intention to lose," he replied, pressing his hands to the floor while making sure his legs were as straight as possible.

"A duel? Against whom?"

"Your niece, Cynthia. She was insulting my pride through her stories at the mess hall when I happened to overhear them. We are to duel at the training grounds at a quarter past seven, today."

"Were any restrictions placed by Cynthia?" Thomson said, selecting her longsword from the weapons rack.

"Yes, I am not to use magic. Any weapon is allowed." Jacob moved to pick up his spatha from in front of him. Provost Thomson's lesson could begin at any time; he needed to be armed before she decided to end the conversation.

"You'll be hard pressed to beat Cynthia like that, Jacob. She's probably the best among her age group at Relentless. I'll give you a warning, if only to give her a challenge. She uses a longsword, just as I do." Then, the lesson began. Thomson rocketed forward, pumping her legs as fast as possible to minimize the time Jacob had to react.

Without magic, he needed a pitifully long time to raise his blade, but he managed to do so before Thomson closed the distance completely. Seeing that her attack was doomed to fail, she fell back and effectively stopped her attack prematurely. Now they fell into a circle, Jacob moving in a clockwise direction. It limited her right arm's range of movement compared to his.

Thomson's longsword was just a tad longer than Jacob's weapon, a fact that she used relentlessly. She prodded his defenses, testing for weaknesses. Eventually, she must have felt that she found one. Ducking underneath without any warning, she shot her blade upwards through Jacob's guard. Her point only stopped when she forced it to hover in front of his stomach.

"That was well done. You've grown better since yesterday, though not enough to beat Cynthia. Your bladework is fine enough for a soldier, but any true warrior will be able to dance around you. Uniqueness, Jacob, separates a warrior from a soldier," she explained, retracting her weapon. Jacob breathed a sigh of relief, never having gotten used to the Provost's reckless method of training. "Again."

"Again."

"Again."

"Again."

For six bouts did Jacob attempt to put up a resistance. On the fourth, he nearly managed to get a point on Thomson when she missed clipping his shoulder by a hair. Alas, she was able to jump out of the way, ending Jacob's potential in the fight. The rest of the combats were far less close. There was a reason that Provost Thomson was so renowned in the City of Warriors, as Steelshade had come to be known.

"I'll be rooting for you, Jacob. Cynthia has grown too complacent in her ways to train as she once did. If you win, her attitude may change. That being said, I don't think I'd put any money on you," Provost Thomson called over her shoulder as he went to replace her longsword onto the rack. "Your odds aren't great. You're a monster when your magic fuels your movements, but you turn remarkably average when it doesn't."

Jacob let her words rebound around inside his skull. Each time they bounced, he let them sink in. He was not quite as good as he thought he was. Against people of real skill, he was still far from their challenge. That insight was valuable to Jacob; he would not be underestimating any of those he'd be up against, whether that was in the tournament or against Cynthia.

"Thank you, Provost. For the training and your wisdom both. I'll do my best this evening," Jacob promised, watching her form exit the room and vanish. He wondered how long it would be before he could muster as much skill as Relentless Blade College's Provost did. Hopefully soon, because any extra second he spent as a puppet to the Kingdom was a second wasted.

Jacob remained in the room, trusting that no one would disturb him as they had the previous day. The meditation was largely the same as the first time he had meditated, but he was capable of utilizing many more molecules of gas, creating a far stronger breeze running along his skin. There was a thin line he had to balance on; he needed the meditation to require enough focus to be difficult but be simple enough that his mana pool benefitted from the practice. Some days were better than others. This was one of those days.

Eager to rid himself of thoughts of the duel, Jacob turned all his attention to the little diatomic elements of oxygen and nitrogen. This advanced level of focus left him feeling mentally wiped, but if his mana pool could flex as a muscle did, he felt that it would finally have some definition to it. Progress.

Laying down on the mat, Jacob closed his eyes, dreaming of better times: of Earth.