The Knight and the Swordsman.

BRETVER 23RD YEAR 548 ASMERIAN CALENDAR

Everyone made their way to the center stage on the backside of the arena. The balcony was overwatching the stage, and the Head Judge and his wife were standing above everyone and on the balcony. The crowd was cheering both Jackson's and Miller's names, and everyone was excited to watch the undefeated knight and the unchallenged swordsman clash.

The center stage was made of wood and had a rock ledge that raised the wooden decking off of the ground. The wood was dark and stained almost black with spots of tar scattered across the stage. Jackson made his way up the left stairs, Audrey in tow. He saw Miller walking up the side opposite to him with the Varin girl at his heel.

Miller sat opposite Jackson, and they both waved at each other. Alex and Zena stood up and gestured to the crowd to quiet down. Alex stepped forwards and readied a piece of parchment that he had written a speech.

"Hello to the people of Greendale and the travelers from beyond. I welcome you to the trade festival's second day of activities. I would like to announce my admiration for both of these skilled swordsmen before you today as they fight for the grand prize. His majesty, the king, has made this reward from his own purse and would also like to meet with whoever shall win this competition." Alex exclaimed with glee.

Miller sat back into his chair and rested his head on his shoulders. He was ready to fight and had enough of the judge's kind words. Jackson also paid no attention to the Head Judge. He focused on Miller and the black blade that was on his lap.

"Swordsmen!" a referee barked. "Get to your starting positions!"

The starting positions were circles painted in white paint on the wooden deck of the stage. The whole stage was in play, and in either swordsman fell off, they would lose the round. Jackson was very cautious with Miller. He had already lost a fight with him and was not wanting to lose anymore.

The round started, and Miller and Jackson both closed in on each other. He waited for Miller to make his move, and they circled each other sizing the other up and looking for any advantage. Ultimately Jackson made his move first. He came down from above and just missed Miller. He didn't overswing and was able to deflect Miller's counter strike.

Miller went for Jackson's legs, and Jackson, who was able to read the strike, jumped backward to avoid his legs getting hit. He kept his sword pointed at Miller and was able to land a good hit on Miller's forearm. Miller loosened his grip and stepped back from Jackson. His forearm ached from the blow as he was not wearing any padding under his gauntlet. He had left his gambeson at his house and was using his plate armor and his clothes.

Jackson didn't yield to much time before he closed in again. He usually wouldn't have given any space, but this was his friend he was fighting, and he didn't want to hurt Miller. He only wanted to win in an honorable manner.

He struck at Miller's head, but Miller parried Jackson and half gripped his sword and sent his crossguard into Jackson's visor. Jackson fell backward and landed on the ground. Miller quickly pinned Jackson to the ground and won the match.

"Well fought kid," Miller said as he pulled Jackson up to his feet.

"Thank you, Mister Miller, give me a moment to strip some of the armor off." Jackson panted as he had already lost most of his energy from jumping and diving from Miller's strikes.

"You sure ya want to do that, kid?"

"Yes, I could do without the leg armor at least," Jackson said as he walked over to a bench next to his starting position.

"I can help you with your armor Mister Scottkey." Said the referee.

"Thank you, sir, please, help me take off this cloak as well. It's getting in my way."

"Of course, Mister Scottkey. I could also take off your pauldron as well; it'd help your balance."

"Thank you, sir, I didn't even think of that."

Jackson stood back up with only his helmet and his gauntlets serving as armor. He entered his starting position and readied himself. Miller was still in his full plate armor and was ready for the next round. The referee gestured to both of them to start fighting.

Jackson cooled down from the light breeze in the arena, and he was able to relax his body and think clearly without all of the extra armor weighing him down. The second round started, and Jackson was able to gain control of the middle ground quickly.

Miller stepped into Jackson's range. Jackson struck towards Miller's legs. Miller parried to strike, but Jackson slid his sword down Miller's, and the tip of his blade met with the faceplate of Miller's helmet. Miller lowered his sword and tapped the tip of his sword against his helmet. It was a salute to Jackson's skill, and Jackson quickly made the same gesture.

The crowd was roaring like a bunch of mad dogs, and the other swordsmen were beating their swords against their shields and armor, making one hell of a racket. The cheers of the crowd gave Jackson a sense of validation. He was now sure that all of his years of learning how to use the sword and other weapons as his uncle's apprentice had not been a waste.

Jackson grew a smile that he'd not had before. He was thrilled and excited, whatever the outcome would be. Jackson was ready for another round, and so was Miller. The next round had started, and Jackson again took control of the stage. He entered a guard stance and fainted a strike on Miller, who was quick to react.

Jackson telegraphed an underhand strike, and Miller went to parry the attack, but Jackson quickly redirected his blade and almost struck Miller on the top of the head, but instead, Miller blocked the strike with his gauntlet. It knocked Jackson off balance, and Miller was in a perfect position to strike and win the duel.

Miller swung down onto Jackson with incredible speed. Miller won the round as his sword slammed into Jackson's helmet. Jackson collapsed from the blow and landed on his back. "I felt that one," Jackson said as he clasped on to his helmet.

"Ya alright, kid?" Miller said as he pulled Jackson up.

"Yeah, I'll be fine, It's just a scratch."

"Alright, kid, I thought I hurt ya."

"It'll take a lot more than that, Mister Miller."

"Good to know."

"What's the score?"

"I've got two wins, and you got the one."

"So, you need just one to win, huh."

"Look's that way, kid."

"Fighter's, please return to your starting positions." The referee barked.

Jackson and Miller returned to the white circles on the stage and readied themselves for another round and quite possibly the last round of fighting. The bout started slowly as Jackson took his time making his way to the center of the stage.

Miller was also not as aggressive as the previous rounds. He intended to end the match right there, and he took up the stance that messed with Jackson so much the day before the competition. Jackson stopped and planted himself in the center of the stage. He took up a close guard stance keeping his sword low and pointed right at Miller.

Miller advanced with caution and readied for Jackson to try something. Once Jackson came into reach, Miller jabbed hard and fast into Jackson. Jackson was able to parry the attack up and away. Miller was now incredibly open to attack, and all that Jackson needed to do was take a single step forwards and level his sword.

Jackson had won the round, and the two swordsmen walked back to their starting positions. Miller stripped off his leg armor and the armor on his torso. Jackson saw this and took off his right gauntlet so that he could grip his sword better and be just even a slight bit faster.

It was the fifth round, and both Jackson and Miller were eager to end the competition as soon as possible. Jackson put his cloak back on and lifted the hood over his head, and he was going to try something he had only seen his uncle do once before. He was going to use his cloak to blind Miller for just a moment and win the round.

It was all or nothing, and the crowd silenced, and you could only hear the wind blowing the overhead banners and flags. It had been the most significant swordsmanship competition that Greendale and even the greater Asmeria had ever been witness to.

The round started as the referee barked at them. They closed in with caution and ease, both knowing that a single slip in their footing or sword placement would mean their demise. As they came into each other's reach, they froze still.

Miller looked Jackson over from top to bottom, assessing every part of him down to the detail, and Jackson did the same to him. They both stared at each other's helmets, and they knew what was under the helmet. It was not fear of losing or anxiety; it was a smile. A smile that reached from ear to ear.

Jackson and Miller suddenly snapped their swords into place, and as Miller came down from an overhead flourish, Jackson went in for a jab, only using his right hand to control the sword. The two froze as the round came to a close, and as the winner decided.

Jackson used his cloak, two blind Miller, for a fraction of a second. In that short moment, Jackson released his grip with his left hand on his sword and caught Miller's sword with his gauntlet. Jackson had won the competition through sheer skill alone. The two relaxed, and Jackson released the sword.

The crowd erupted with cheers for the Asmerian swordsman. Jackson, however, could only manage a bow before he had to take a seat. Head Judge Alex Daniels made his way down to the stage with his wife Zena following him closely. He had the purse with the gold reward inside it.

"Mister Scottkey, correct?" Alex asked as he walked onto the stage.

"Yes, sir, I'm Jackson Scottkey."

"Please, I must know how such a young lad became so skilled with the sword."

"Well, I've spent the last five or six years training with the sword under my uncle who is the commander of the Order of Asmeria and the Senate's head guardsman."

"Impressive, I hope you may soon come to serve his majesty, the king. I have the feeling that you may be an invaluable knight in service to the king." Alex said as he handed the purse of gold to Jackson. "Have a fine day, Mister Scottkey, and may your future be a pleasant one."

"I will, sir," Jackson said as he took the purse. He stood up and looked around, the crowd was starting to disperse, and the arena became filled with conversations that he couldn't understand and laughs that he didn't know the meaning behind. Cold without any action or conflict of swordsmen, dull until the next event and clash of whatever may enter the arena.

"Ya alright, there, kid?" Miller asked as he grabbed his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Mister Miller. Thank you, by the way."

"Oh, what for kid."

"My uncle said that I should always thank those who fought without constraint or holding back."

"Well, kid, I wasn't going to give this away without a fight," Miller said as he handed Jackson his sword in its sheath. The scabbard was black leather with peiron inlays and a peiron opening for the sword to slide into.

"Thank you, Mister Miller, but you don't have to give me your sword. I know who much a peiron sword is worth let alone a peiron longsw-"

"Let me stop you right there, kid," Miller said as he lightly slapped Jackson in the back of the head. "I'm not worried about the cost of giving this sword to ya. I'm not worried about the history I have with this sword, nor am I worried about what may happen to it. I offered it to ya because I thought that you would be a better owner for it than I. This sword no longer sees me as its rightful owner, and I feel that it has chosen you."

"What do you mean by that, Mister Miller?" Jackson asked, confused.

"Look into the blade and tell me what you see kid."

Jackson took the sword out of its scabbard and held it out in the light and looked straight into it. The blade was perfectly polished and shined brightly with the sun's light. He looked for what Miller was talking about but only saw the reflection of the blade.

"I still don't understand, Mister Miller."

"Look at your reflection."

Jackson looked back at the sword and saw his reflection. It was pitch black, and no matter how he moved it in the light, his reflection was absent from the blade in the purest black that he had ever seen. He took a step backward and felt a sense of unease.

"Ya, alright?" Miller asked.

"Oh no, I'm fine, Mister Miller, but…"

"But what?"

"Is this magic Mister Miller."

"Yes and no."

"What do you mean?"

"Peiron is what we call a living metal. It can't talk, but it can speak. It can choose its own master and fate. You, however, are a special case of peiron changing the reflection it casts. I've heard or red, blue, green, and silver reflections, but there's never, at least to my limited knowledge, been a black reflection such as your own."

"I don't know what to think about it now. I would like to learn more about it if I can."

"Sure, I've plenty of books on peiron that I've yet to read."

"I'll come by and read them soon, Mister Miller."

"Mister Miller!" Ruby shouted from the ledge of the stage. "I want to go see the horse races now!"

"Aye lass, we better get a move on then, have ya seen Audrey anywhere?"

"She's right behind you, Mister Miller," Ruby said as she pointed behind Jackson and Miller.

"We'll have to finish this conversation later, kid," Miller said as he walked over to Ruby.

"I'll be waiting for Mister Miller, and thank you again for everything."

"You're welcome, kid; you earned everything for yourself. You don't need to thank me for anything."

"You're going to the track, correct?"

"Aye."

"I'll be there with my sister in a while, keep an eye out for us."

"I will kid, see ya there."

Jackson rushed back to his family's store, his mother and father were inside, but Alice was out front waiting for him. "What took you so long, Jack! You know I've been waiting here all day for you."

"I know, I know, sis, look, though." He said as he tossed a purse full of gold into her hands.

"You won?"

"Yep, I sure did," he said as he unsheathed his new sword from its scabbard. "Look at this, Alice."

"Wow, is that the sword Mister Miller said he'd give to you?"

"Yes it is, it's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Can I hold it, Jack?"

"Yeah, here you go, but be careful, the blade is like a razor." He said as he handed it to her.

"It's heavy."

"Well, what did you expect?" Jackson laughed

"I don't know, okay, Jack; I thought it'd be lighter."

"No, swords are heavy, not as much as other weapons like polearms or axes, but they are heavy," Jackson said as he took the peiron sword back from Alice.

"Are you going to show mother and father?"

"Yeah, I open the door for you, Alice."

"Thank you," Alice said as she wheeled herself inside. Jackson entered behind her, he had been to the store once before but never really got around to help the store. "Mother, father, Jack came back from the event!" Alice shouted.

Their parents came rushing down the stairs, and Veronica leaped over the counter just in front of the stairwell. She pulled him close and hugged him tightly as Connor made his way around the counter. "Welcome back, son." He said, "How was it?"

"It was amazing, father, I won the competition, and you should've seen the look on everyone's face," Jackson exclaimed.

"Well, your mother here was worried sick about you getting hurt, and I had to stop her several times from running out on your sister and me."

"Shut up, Connor; I wasn't going to be too long."

"Yeah, right, I know you'd be tending to every little scratch on his armor for crying out loud."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Mother, I'm fine, look, not even a scratch on me."

"Thank god, you better be alright because now that you've finished with the festival, I am going to work you to the bone."

"And here I thought that you worried about our son. But here I stand corrected, you're a more deviant merchant than I." Connor jested as he grabbed Jackson's shoulder.

"What do you mean?" Veronica asked.

"Fainting ignorance, are we? Jackson, your sister, has been sitting here all day. Do me a favor and take her out into the town and have fun. I'll sort out your mean old mother here and make sure that she doesn't work you to the bone until you're ready."

"Thank you, father!" Jackson exclaimed as he grabbed Alice's wheelchair and ran out of the building.

"Way to play the saint, Connor," Veronica said with a tone of voice that could kill.

"Easy there, Veronica, I was just joking. Please put the pot down…"