Ch-11

Arden Storm. 297 ac

I woke up at the first light of morning, as usual, ready to start my duties as a squire in the Eagle Order. Although I had risen early, my work had to be finished before the knights awoke—feeding the horses, cleaning and maintaining Ser Edric's sword and armor. These tasks were routine now, but they were still essential, especially before the morning training session.

I made my way to where the horses were tied. Ser Edric's horse stood waiting for me, calm as ever. Nearby, our leader Arthur's squire, Mace, was already watering his horse. Mace was mute, but we exchanged greetings with hand gestures—part of a language Arthur had invented specifically for Mace. It was efficient and often useful in battle as well.

Once our silent exchange was done, we both returned to our work. Today's training was different; Ser Arthur himself would be observing and instructing us. That thought made me excited, and the morning passed quickly as I completed my chores.

By the time the sun was fully up, Ser Arthur had emerged from his tent. He was bare-chested, as usual before training, and even now, after years of seeing him like this, his physique still amazed me. He was tall—towering over most at 6'6"—and his muscles were lean and powerful, not bulky. His strength was complemented by incredible flexibility, which he attributed to the stretching and opening exercises he practiced after every session. His training methods were unlike anything I had ever seen.

Arthur gathered his long, dark hair back with a hand and gave a loud shout. "Boys, let's start the training before breakfast!" His voice rang through the camp, ensuring no one could sleep through it. I quickly finished with the horses and made my way to where the other squires and knights were already gathering.

The Eagle Order was about 47 people. Eighteen of us were hedge knights, with another eight sellswords who traveled with us for gold. Then there were twelve squires like me, learning the trade of knighthood. Alongside us were three women and their children, traveling with their husbands. These wives took care of cooking and laundry, helping to keep the Order in working order.

As everyone assembled, Ser Arthur led us on our usual morning run. It wasn't long—about 20 minutes—usually around the campsite if we were in the open like today. Afterward, we prepared ourselves with stretching exercises before sparring with wooden swords.

Arthur didn't usually train directly with the others, as no one could match his skill. Instead, he would fight multiple opponents at once, testing his limits. Today, though, he was going to personally oversee the squires' training, which meant he'd be giving us guidance on technique.

"Let's start," he said, and I immediately stepped forward, attacking Mace, who was standing opposite me.

The suddenness of my move startled Mace, and he stumbled back, closing his eyes instinctively. "Mace! Keep your eyes open! How many times do I have to tell you? If you can't see the sword coming, how will you react?" Arthur barked. Then, turning to me, he added, "Arden, bend your legs more when you strike—otherwise, you'll lose power."

I corrected my stance, bending my legs slightly as I attacked again. Mace, after Arthur's words, began to parry more effectively, returning some strikes of his own. Arthur's keen eyes missed nothing as he continued to observe the other squires, giving instructions here and there.

After about an hour of sparring, Arthur called out, "That's enough. Rest and start your stretching exercises."

Sweat poured down my face, but I was eager to watch what would come next. I quickly made my way to a good spot near where Arthur and the knights would be sparring. This was something I couldn't miss.

"You kept us waiting long enough," Ser Edric said to Arthur with a grin.

Arthur responded with a smirk of his own. "You're just eager to be beaten, old man."

This sparring match was going to be a spectacle. Arthur was facing five opponents simultaneously: Vice-leader Ser Edric, Vice-leader Ser Oliver, Ser William, Ser Noah, and Mitch, a sellsword who preferred fighting with a dagger. Arthur looked as if he was ready to push himself to the limit today.

I settled into my spot, muscles still tingling from the morning's training, but my attention was fully on the fight. Watching Arthur fight was always inspiring. Five against one—it was going to be something to remember.

The intensity in the air shifted as soon as the match began in earnest. The five men moved with purpose, spreading out in an attempt to surround Ser Arthur. It was a tactical move, the advantage of numbers, to attack from all sides. But Arthur wasn't one to let himself be outmaneuvered so easily.

He moved first, targeting Ser Noah before the others could fully close in. Like a flash of lightning, Ser Arthur rushed him. Noah barely had time to raise his sword before Arthur's strike landed with a resounding crack. Even though it was just a wooden sword, the sheer power behind the blow was undeniable. Noah nearly lost his grip, but he managed to recover, though not without staggering.

Ser William, seeing the opening, immediately went for a side-slash aimed at Arthur. But Arthur spun gracefully, deflecting the attack while simultaneously pivoting his sword toward Noah. With a swift strike to Noah's throat, Arthur ended his part in the fight. "You're dead," he declared, sending Noah to the sidelines, clutching his neck.

The others wasted no time closing the gap, launching a barrage of strikes from all directions. But Arthur moved fluidly, his body weaving through their attacks like water flowing around stones. It was mesmerizing to watch. He wasn't just dodging—he was using their own momentum against them, absorbing their energy and redirecting it elsewhere.

Then came his counterattack. Spotting an opening, he struck at Ser William with a piercing blow that sent the knight tumbling to the ground. "Three left," Arthur said calmly, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Just then, Mitch, the sellsword, saw his chance. He had crept up behind Arthur unnoticed, ready to strike. For a moment, everyone thought Arthur might finally be caught off guard. But Arthur, with a sudden sidestep, dodged Mitch's attack and delivered a brutal upward strike to his chest. Mitch staggered back, winded and defeated.

Now, it was just Ser Edric and Ser Oliver left. They paused, breathing heavily as they sized up Arthur. The mood had shifted; the playful banter was gone, replaced by the seriousness of battle. Edric, knowing Arthur better than anyone, lunged forward with a series of precise attacks. Oliver joined in, more calculated, clearly searching for a weakness in Arthur's defense.

Edric was the only one who had truly grasped Arthur's technique. Arthur had taught it openly to anyone who wanted to learn, but only Edric had mastered it. Their exchange was fast and furious, Edric landing blows that no one else in the Order could. For a moment, it seemed like Arthur might finally be pushed to his limits.

But then Arthur made his move. With a feint, he threw a side slash, baiting Edric into position. Just as Edric moved to block it, Arthur changed direction, his sword dipping downward and striking Edric's hip. Edric winced, his movement momentarily halted by the pain. In that brief moment, Arthur followed up with another strike, hitting Edric again, before spinning and delivering a crushing blow to Ser Oliver from above. Oliver, caught completely off guard, crumpled to the ground under the force of the attack.

The whole Order was silent, eyes wide in awe. No one had expected Arthur to dispatch his opponents so swiftly, especially with such precision. As Ser Arthur stood there, smiling, victorious, it was as if time itself had paused. Even the birds seemed to stop singing, as if to acknowledge his dominance.

The moment hung in the air, charged with the palpable respect and admiration of every person watching.