9 Sword Trial

The other candidates seemed to avoid the trio while they rested. It did not seem to bother Duman Junhe very much, but Wumu Qian looked annoyed at the behavior shown. "They are avoiding us - looking down on us, no doubt," he said quietly as they made their way to the seats at the rear of the waiting area, "I fear that my presence may have tarnished your reputations."

Junhe laughed even before Wuying could respond to that. "Oh dear. You think you are the cause of this cold-shoulder treatment? And here I thought it was all my fault! I am the son of Duman Changqing, you know? And my grandfather is Wei Longjia. You know, the one who bought his grandsons into the nobility? My mother has been receiving the same treatment for years! For bring two noble-born merchant-brats into the world!"

Then he turned to Wuying who looked a little blank. "Ah! I think you have not heard the tale. Well, it is a simple one; my grandfather is a rather wealthy merchant, and he managed to get my father married into the Duman family, in return for clearing their enormous debt. Well, that is rather reprehensible, bullying the nobility like that," he sighed.

Wumu Qian's eyes widened at that. "Ah! I have heard stories about ... your grandfather. Well, I can't say that I am too surprised. The merchants grow wealthier and wealthier and the nobility has less and less power. My own brother married a merchant's daughter too, in hopes of reviving the family holdings. Most of which, I should add, are in hock."

"Oh? Yes, I had heard that," Junhe replied with a smile, "But that is true about most of the Northern Territories. There are only a handful there which do not have a substantial part of their lands ... owed to some trading company or other. But I doubt that is the reason why we are being shunned. It is more likely because we are not connected to the Chancellery, I suppose."

Then he turned to Wuying, who had begun to frown at the start of the exchange. "What's your story then, Wuying da ge? You look like you have bitten into a sour peach."

That was a way of looking at it. It seemed obvious now, from the fact that he had to meet a three segment test, rather than the one that he had been told about. And then there was the fact that the rest of the applicants were noble-born. Well, he had been told that he was representing Kongmin Town's Yue Family, so he shouldn't be too concerned with that!

But the other two were waiting for his answer, so he simply told them the truth. Perhaps not the exact truth that they were asking about, a truth nonetheless. "I suppose I am more concerned about the delay, to tell the truth. I was supposed to meet with some old friends ... And I believe that I am going to be late. Very late."

"Oh? In the Royal Guard?"

Wuying shook his head at that. "No, no. They are ordinary troopers, from the White Tiger Guard. Most of them trained me, in one way or another. Lieutenant Yen Ah Man should be tearing his hair out about now. That's how late I am," he chuckled at the thought.

"The White Tiger Guard? They guard the Gate to the far West, don't they? However did you get a chance to meet with that rough lot? They are said to be terrifying, both in the drinking houses, and in battle!" Junhe exclaimed in surprise.

But a bell chimed before he could answer, and all of the candidates started to file out of the place. Wumu Qian scowled but he got up from the bench as well. "Come on then. It appears we are about to receive our last test," he declared, as he started after the others, "I doubt that we'll be at the front of the queue, but we shouldn't take any chances. The Guard are usually unforgiving of mistakes this late in the day."

So they had no chance for further conversation, as they joined the slow moving group into the open-aired space again. Then, to Wuying's surprise, they emerged into a rather large training square, which had been partitioned with guard poles and strips of colored cloth. And prominently marked with numbered plaques.

A man, clad in a resplendent lieutenant's dress uniform, stood atop a raised platform in the center of the same, facing all of the candidates. "You are now at the last stage of the Test. A soldier needs to shoot, to ride and to fight. And as officers, you need to be better than the common troops. You have made it this far, and once you clear this stage, if you can, you shall be accepted into the Royal Guard."

He gestured then, and a group of hardened-looking soldiers stepped up. "These shall be your opponents. They are all veterans in the Guard, and they have all demonstrated skill in the appropriate hand-to-hand combat techniques. Score a point off them, and you will have passed. After all, as officers, you will need to be better than your usual rankers!"

Then the lieutenant turned, and the men with the sergeant marks on their tunics started forward to check their names and preferred weapons. And Wuying doubted that the larger-than-usual bully boys were mere guardsmen. They certainly looked nothing like the rough and tumble men that he had met so long ago, back at the White Tiger Gate! These men had the look of specialists, of elite guards!

Wuying thought back to what the lieutenant had said earlier. And shook his head inwardly. Officers! The page had led him to the officers' test! And the Royal Guard one as well. No wonder he was having such a hard time!

"That makes sense," Wumu Qian laughed when he said as much, "They will want only the best for their officers. And the Royal Guard has a certain reputation hereabouts, such as being incorruptible. That's according to all the tales that we have heard as children. Unlike some of the rascals that we get, in the Armies and the Town Guard."

"Hey," Junhe sighed then, "You are not doing anything for my confidence, you know. I'm not so sure that I can hold my own against these paragons, much less land a single point on them. These are people who have spent their entire lives devoted to fighting for King and Kingdom, you know?"

"If you do not even have belief in yourself, how can you inspire that same belief in others? Remember, you are going to be leading your men. Even if you do not have the confidence, you still have to give it your all!" Qian said, as he stared at the boards and at the large men, "Otherwise, why are you even here?"

Junhe did not reply, but Wuying could see that he was thinking hard. Then Wumu Qian seemed to notice something, and he stepped away, leaving the pair on their own with a curt nod. Wuying smiled at the nervous-looking merchant brat and couldn't resist a little last minute advice, even as they moved to their own section.

"Just remember what I had told you. Go easy at first. Then as soon as you see an opportunity, go for it with everything that you have. And if you can't find a weakness, see if you can create one! Any trick that you have ever learned? Use it! Score! That is all that you need to worry about now!"

Then their names were called, and the pair of them moved off to their final test!

*

Despite the number of Guards that they had seen earlier, there did not appear to be too many concurrent tests being carried out. There were three posts where the testing took place almost at once, with the spear, the mace and the warhammer. And Qian was the only one in his category. Wuying was almost tempted to stay and watch. But Junhe shook his head at him and he moved on reluctantly. All that he managed was to catch a glimpse of Wumu Qian as he walked on.

The younger man faced off a large burly Guard wielding long poles with padded tips. Both of them were wearing over-robes of some light colored cloth while the padded tips of their 'spears' were marked with red ink. Then they passed the opening, and he had to bring his attention back to his own test.

Just as well. Those of them that had selected swords had ended in a larger group than any of them had bargained for. Then again, the Guard must have been ready for that, since the four of them soon found themselves heading to a secluded corner of the partitioned grounds, where they were met by five guardsmen of varying ages, and obviously, varying skill levels. He and Duman Junhe were quickly marched away into their own section. This was larger than what he had seen, and there were two dueling circles marked out on the floor of the same, and each of them held a burly Royal Guard of their own.

Or rather, there were only two guards standing in the circles. There were two more, and one of the latter was a grey-beard, seated on a bench a short distance away in what looked like a judge's section. Were these the one who were going to adjudicate the matches?

"Oho. Four of them chose the sword. That's going to be troublesome. What do you say, Wai On? You and your brother up for this?"

The two large Guards didn't answer the old man, but stepped up to the Circles that had already been marked in the training area. Each of them carried a pair of wooden swords. Unlike the spears, Wuying noted, these were clearly not padded.

One of the big men smiled then. "This is a simple test. You will face the two of us. And you'll go on, if you manage to score a hit. Conversely, if we hit you, you're out. So, who's going to be first then? And who second? We'll finish this off quickly, of course. We don't want you lot late for lunch," he said calmly.

To Wuying's surprise, Junhe stepped forward almost at once. "Oh dear, oh dear. I do hate being late for lunch myself, so I think I might have a go. Unless you gentlemen have any objections?" He directed the last at the other two who stood by looking shocked.

One of the nobles, however, recovered and stepped forward without a word, almost snatching the practice weapon out of the grasp of the other Guard. Who looked so similar to the first that Wuying believed that they were brothers. The big man merely smiled, and attacked at once!

There was a loud grunt from the nobleman as the wooden sword caught him on the shoulder, and he fell to his knees, clutching at the spot. From his pale face, and the way that he dropped his 'blade', Wuying could only guess that his collarbone had been broken.

"Well, that's one down, Wai On. But your brother has yet to start yet."

Possibly because Junhe had assumed a ready position the moment that he had received the wooden blade. But the Guard did not attack straightaway, as the self-proclaimed merchant-blooded man had expected. Clearly, he knew that his brother's display had given away the element of surprise.

Instead, the man began with an almost languid gesture, lifting his sword up with a smile.

Only to lose it at once, as his blade was smacked aside by the swiftly attacking Junhe!

The man in the red-purple shirt threw himself at the larger Guard, flicking an almost impossible series of strikes at the taller man's head and shoulders, making him back away in surprise. Junhe pursued, then. And, as if he was out of breath, his sword's point dipped a little and seemed to slow, prompting the Guard to lift his blade to counter ...

"Idiot."

That was when Junhe lunged, driving the tip of his blade into the Guard's lower belly!

The taller man gave out a breath and dropped to his knees, almost turning green at once!

The old man seated next to the Pit merely chuckled, while his companion who had called out shook his head. "Oh, a good play. I have not seen something like that for some time. It was most amusing. Shall you be going on? What is your name, young man? I'll want to keep an eye on your career, it seems," laughed the grey-beard.

Junhe bowed, possibly to recover his breath, since he could barely gasp out his next words. "This one is Duman Junhe, swordmaster. I am pleased to have amused you. But I think I shall be content with a pass, and forgo any other ... duels."

Wuying wanted to applaud his new friend's success, but the other Guard - Wai On, his name was, suddenly coughed. So his attention was dragged back to the other circle, in front of him. To his surprise, the other nobleman had already been eliminated, and seemed unconscious too! He was being dragged away by another two of the black-garbed men. The Guard, on the other hand, was offering the sword to him.

"I doubt that you have the time to celebrate your friend's victory just now, young man. Now, shall we begin?" the guardsman said, as he tossed the wooden blade at Wuying ...

... and attacked!

But his own weapon stopped an inch away from the young man's neck, when he realized that Wuying had made no move to grab at the other sword. "What's this? Giving up?"

"I could ask the same. Using the same trick twice? That's a little ... unworthy of the Guard, don't you think?" Wuying countered, as he gestured at where he stood, "And I'm not even in the Circle. That attack was a little premature."

It was not as if the old men at Kongmin Town hadn't already used that trick on him, when he was still getting used to their training regime. Several times, in fact. He had gotten a little used to their laughter quickly, in those early moons. And he had to say that it was rather low, as such tricks went. He certainly didn't expect the Guard to be using the same!

But he turned to Duman Junhe, and smiled as he pointed at the sword that the latter had in his hand. "Now, I think you are quite done with that, brother Junhe. May I borrow your sidearm?"

The younger man laughed, and stepped up to hand the weapon over respectfully. "Oh, I look forward to watching your bout, brother!" he added, as he backed away, with a large grin on his face. Clearly, he was appreciative of the advice that he had received before his own fight!

Leaving Wuying to return to his original ring, and his no longer smiling opponent. The man looked a little more cautious now. Not that it bothered him. "Now, I believe we can begin."

He launched himself at the Guard then, who had quickly lifted his own blade to receive the rather obvious attack that Wuying was launching at his throat. But as the blades clashed, the younger man spun his weapon, dragging both of the wooden swords well away from both their bodies, with their points facing upwards. Then Wuying darted forward, and drove the pommel of the wooden sword into the side of the Guard's neck!

There was a sharp crack. And Wuying stepped back quickly and bowed. To the man who was staggering backwards, away from him. He was clutching at the spot beneath his jaw. "There. I trust this is a pass?"

And a low laugh behind him was an obvious answer. He turned to see that the older man still sat, but the middle-aged fellow with the grey in his temples had risen to his feet. And he had another wooden sword in his hand now. He grinned at Wuying as he swung it about himself, making a series of terrifying sounds as the wooden blade cut through the air.

"What do you say, boy? Do you know this tune?"

For a moment, Wuying wondered what the man was talking about. Then he realized where he had seen that pattern before!

So he smiled, and stepped forward with his own wooden sword at ready. "I think I do. Shall we begin then, sir?"

They stepped into range then, and the blade smashed against each other in a steady, almost rhythmic beat. Neither of them held back, and the cuts met each other in midair, neatly blocking each other. They went neither too fast nor too slow then, matching each other's swings adroitly, almost precisely, and countering the same. And all the time keeping to a rhythm such that they seemed to be dancing!

The older man had the advantage of muscle but he did not seem to want to overpower Wuying. Instead, this was more a test of his will, his control. Perhaps, it was like he said; this was a dance, and it was hard to find a proper partner!

Still, it took almost all of his concentration just to keep up! The last time he had played this game was at White Tiger Gate, when one of the guards there was celebrating the birth of his son! But it did not have this sort of intensity then, this sort of ferocity. This sort of hunger!

For a moment, Wuying understood his opponent. Or he thought that he did. Studying the sword with this sort of single-minded intensity made for swordsmen who knew almost nothing else! And he was awed. Was this what he could become, if he went on practicing, honing himself? Was this what his future self would be like, if he kept at it?

Then he heard a cry, "Enough!" And he stepped back, even as his opponent - no, his partner, did the same. And he turned, just in time to see the old man rushing at him, another wooden blade in his hand!

He raised his own. Parried. Parried again. Countered. And cursed as the older man laughed and avoided his thrust. Then he stamped his foot, and tried again!

Attacked. Parried. Parried yet again.

And blinked as he saw the old man grin at him.

There was a fire in that grin. In that smile. A challenge!

And Wuying found himself grinning back. Even as he launched his own attack, he could not help but wonder at the opportunity! Whatever happened now, win or lose. Whether he passed or failed, at least the day was not an utter loss! Not when he had the chance to cross swords with such masters!

They went on for two more exchanges, the wooden blades shivering as they smashed at each other's defenses. Then they slowed down. Speed was not going to win this bout, and neither was raw strength. Both of them knew that. Their attacks and counters became more deliberate, slower. But no less deadly.

It was the old man who switched to a two-handed grip first. Wuying followed suit a moment later. It was not really his style, but he was reluctant to give up this game. But two blows later, the younger man knew that he was at a disadvantage. The old man was still controlling the bout. Just barely. But he was in control.

And Wuying knew his own defense wasn't going to last.

The old man had still many more tricks, and he was just depending on his youth, his faster reflexes, to get him through. But sooner or later, that was not going to be enough!

Then he remembered. There was another exchange, another trick, that he had played on him once, when he first started down this road. And without even thinking it through, he used it on the next swing of the sword!

The old man came in low, the blade aimed at his lower ribs, and Wuying countered high. Yet, as the blades approached the point of no return, he suddenly released his left hand, to slam it against the two-handed grip that the old man had on his own sword. And he took a half-step to his left, even as he continued his swing ...

... and stopped the wooden blade a fingers-breath away from the old man's neck!

His opponent's sword was out of line, thanks to his now-aching palm's grip on his opponent's hands, and his slight shift in position.

He had won!

* * *