Blademaester Luschek

High atop the temple of Drenda'al, beneath the light of a bloodred moon, two figures stood poised in silhouette: one Blademaester, one apprentice. A chill wind swept across the roof. The taller of the pair, Lord Luschek was as still as a statue while Tyson was hunched over, breathing heavily with a steady stream of perspiration washing over him.

"I need you to come at me again like you want to kill me," Lord Lushchek said. "There's something I need to confirm."

"I thought I've been doing that for the last hour," Tyson replied.

The figures lunged again, moving so swiftly it would have been impossible for an observer to say which one acted and which reacted. They met with a thunderous crash of their savage blades.

Even as he desperately fought to hold his ground, Tyson was studying Lord Lushchek carefully. He was acutely aware of every feint and strike, analyzing and memorizing each block, parry, and counterstrike. The Blademaester had said his time would be better spent focusing on improving his own technique, but Tyson was determined to negate Shotan's advantage by absorbing all he could from the Blademaester's double-bladed fighting style.

The flurry lasted well over a minute with no break or lull in the action until Tyson was forced to break away from his attack before he was overwhelmed by the Blademaesters superior skill. Breathing hard, Tyson hung his head and lowered his weapon in an admission of defeat. He had improved dramatically in the last week but he has still a long way off from Shotan.

"We will end here," Lord Luschek said impatiently.

"What did you want to confirm?" Tyson asked.

"You don't need to know."

"Can you at least tell me if the double-bladed sword gives you an advantage?" he asked.

"It does, but not in the way you think," Lord Luschek replied.

Tyson was silent, waiting patiently for further explanation. After a few seconds, his Master obliged him.

"As you already know, body augmentation and mastery of a sword art form are the real keys to victory in any confrontation. However, the equation is not so simple. Someone not as skilled at sword arts or mana body augmentation can defeat an opponent who is stronger through superior tactics. Your skill allows you to anticipate your opponent's moves while the augmentation allows you to counter them with your own. But the more tricks your foe has available to him, the more difficult it is to predict what he will do."

Tyson thought he understood. "So the double-bladed weapon gives you more options?"

"No," Lord Luschek replied. "But you think it does, so the effect is the same."

"I still don't understand, Master."

"You know the single-bladed weapon well; you use it yourself and you've seen most of the other apprentices use it, as well. My double-bladed weapon seems strange to you. Unfamiliar. You don't fully understand what it can and cannot do." From the lack of impatience or exasperation in the Blademaesters tone, Bane could tell this was something he hadn't been expected to grasp on his own. Lord Luschek tended to take every chance to demonstrate his superior skill or knowledge whenever it presented itself. He is a nerd, through and through.

"In combat, your mind tries to keep track of each blade separately, effectively doubling the number of possibilities. But the two blades are connected: by knowing the location of one, you are automatically aware of the location of the other. In actual practice, the double-bladed weapon is more limited than the traditional sword. It can do more damage, but it is less precise. It requires longer, sweeping movements that don't transition well into a quick stab or thrust. Because the weapon is difficult to master, however, few among those that possess the iron link understand it. They don't know how to attack or defend effectively against it. That gives those of us who use it an advantage over most of our opponents."

"By telling me this secret, you've given up your advantage," Tyson noted, smiling as he pointed to Lord Luschek's double-bladed weapon.

"Only to a very small degree," the Blademaster said. "You now understand why an exotic weapon or unfamiliar style will be more difficult to defend against, but until you become an expert in a particular style, in the heat of combat your mind will still struggle to grasp its limitations."

Tyson kept pressing, eager to turn this new insight into something practical he could use. "So by studying different styles, I could negate that advantage?"

"In theory. But time spent studying other styles is time away from mastering your own form. Your best progress will come from focusing more on yourself and less on your opponent."

"Then why even bother telling me all this?" Tyson blurted out, frustrated.

"Knowledge is power, my young apprentice. My purpose is to give you that knowledge. It is up to you to figure out how best to use it."

With those words the Blademaster left him, heading down the temple stairs to steal a few hours of sleep before the morning sun rose.

***

At sunset later that day, Lord Luschek waited patiently on the docks of the Drenda'al pier underneath the shadow of the Watchtower. His guest was running almost a half-hour late. He suspected that it was intentional to establish dominance but he would show restraint.

At this time, the docks were usually overflowing with sailors tending ships but the low tide ensured that not many ships could dock translating into fewer people to eavesdrop on the conversation he was about to have. He could've set the meeting at the Academy Temple but he did not want to risk his guest being recognized by one of the other Maesters and he chose the dock because it reminded him of how far he had come in life.

He observed the dockworkers and ship hands as they maintained the few ships still at the harbour. He remembered a time where he would get home with a tired mind and body, eager to drift into a dreamless sleep.

This was how the shipping companies got you. They work you to exhaustion, dull your senses and numb your will into submission until you accept your lot in life and waste the rest of your years in grit and grime. All in the relentless service of the trading cartels. It was a devastatingly effective trap that worked on Lord Luschek's father and grandfather but it didn't work on him because he didn't let it.

As a child, even with his father's crushing debt, Luschek knew he would pay it off someday and leave that life behind. He was destined for something greater than a life of insignificant existence. His absolute certainty gave him the strength he needed to carry on with a hopeless grind and the will to fight when he felt like giving up.

"This is certainly a new experience for me, Vurnon. I'm not used to being summoned, especially by the likes of you. Did you bring me here to reminisce about your past working the docks?" Freya asked.

She seemed to materialise out of nowhere while Lord Luschek was lost in his thoughts and barely aware of his surroundings. It took incredible control not to flinch in surprise. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

"I would prefer if you referred to me by my title of Lord Luschek but that's beside the point."

"So what is the point, Vurnon?"

He turned slightly so that he could look her in the eyes. Like always she had the hood of her cloak covering her eyes. Her hair was turning whiter by the day. A few months ago, there were still signs of brown in her hair but now it was a solid snowy white. She didn't even try to meet his gaze and instead stared into space. Lord Luschek suspected that she may have lost her sight. It's not as if she ever used her eyes anyway.

"I know that you're siphoning quite a bit of power from Tyson. Probably because you're growing weak. I also know he doesn't yet suspect what is happening but I haven't quite figured out how you're doing it."

Lord Luschek spotted the slight tension in her shoulders. Most people would have missed it but he knew Freya too well.

"An unfounded accusation."

Lord Luschek was impervious to her deceit. He had sparred with the boy and could feel his strength being drained steadily by another with a strong bond. Stronger than anything he had ever seen. He was in awe of what sort of magic spell she was using.

"It's none of my concern so I won't tell you to stop. But he desperately needs his strength for the task ahead. You must reduce the amount of mana that you draw from him even if it's only for a few weeks so that he can triumph."

"How did you find out?"

"That's none of your concern. I'm honestly surprised that he's able to function at such a high level while haemorrhaging massive amounts of mana like that, all day every day. He must be a monster. That's probably why you chose him."

"Will you tell him?"

"No, but I'm sure it won't take him long to find out that you're only using him for his power and when he does, the hatred he'll have for you will be on par with my own. We will both share a hatred for you, my former master."