Bloodline of the Crimson Blade

Chapter One: Bloodline of the Crimson Blade

The lightning flashing overhead in the sky was the only indicator that Tristan had that dawn was close to breaking. He had spent the whole night training. Not even stopping for the rain. The difference between those who become and those who wish.

Around him in the muddy courtyard, the sounds of training could be heard. Low grunts and whistles as blades sliced through the air. The smell of steel, sweat, and mud filled his nostrils. The beads of sweat on his forehead had become constant companions on nights such as this. Nights when all the cadets who wanted to improve dedicated themselves to their craft.

Only a few of the other cadets were still up training. They, just like Tristan, were unwilling to give themselves over to sleep. The cadets were all driven by the same desire, the pending breakthrough in their [Swordcraft].

These were the few who preferred to get in some extra practice during the nighttime hours. Actions like this would be what set them apart in the future. Elevating them from simple swordsmen to true elites.

Still, after so many late and sleepless nights, Tristan had still not made the breakthrough that he was training. He slashed the blade forward in clean arcs, trying as he could to exercise his frustrations away from him.

The rising of the sun meant that his training time was coming to a close. Soon, the morning horn would sound the last watch, and reveille would follow soon after waking the rest of the cadets for normal daytime training. Such was the way of Arcadia Academy.

I'm so close though, I can feel it. I've almost reached my goal. I just need to keep training. Tonight maybe. Tristan vowed. I will set myself apart.

With his remaining time, Tristan worked to complete the maneuver he had been executing. A series of fast and forceful overhand strikes. The steel of his blade gleamed with the first rays of the sun as his aching body and aching muscles dripped with sweat.

The hilt of the blade fit in his hands like it had been crafted and made just for him. In a way, it had been. Unlike most of the other cadets who began their training with simple [Short Swords] or [Long Swords], Tristan had been allowed to wield the weapon his clan, the Valdanes, was known for, the [Katana].

The blade was long and sleek. It curved slightly upward at the tip, which ended in a deadly point. Unlike the standard training swords favored by the academy, only one side of the [Katana] held an edge. But that edge was razor sharp. Kept so by Tristan's constant care for the blade. It was an extension of himself, and it needed to be treated as such.

Such as my family ingrained has in me. The horn blew and Tristan completed his exercise and sheathed his blade at his side with an audible snip. The other cadets in the courtyard were similarly finishing up their exercises and getting ready for the day. There would be just enough time to wash up and change into the duty uniform before classes and morning training started.

As he walked, he kept his right hand wrapped around the hilt of his blade, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. Here at the academy, an attack of any kind was highly unlikely. Academies that can't protect their students are quickly shut down. Still, years of training and an upbringing in a family such as his had drilled the practice into his body until he did it more on instinct than intent.

The fact that Tristan had been allowed his own sword was a bit of an rarity and showed the difference the academy held for his lineage. Cadets of his rank almost exclusively wielded the same starter swords as everyone else. But in Tristan's case, it was no surprise.

That's what happens when you come from a house such as mine. A clan of born warriors. Both the sword and the fist of our liege.

As a 9th year student, Tristan was still a member of the [Iron] rank. The second-lowest rank in the academy. All of the cadets started out at the [Bronze] rank, no matter how much training they had beforehand or how capable they seemed. Cadets kept the rank of [Bronze] until their 7th year when [Iron] was automatically bestowed. Tristan had been no exception.

Once a cadet reached [Iron] rank they usually started their training with one of the two standard training swords predominantly used within the academy. The [Short Sword] was a lighter, double-edged blade used single handedly, or the [Long Sword], which was a heavier blade of roughly the same design as the former that was meant to be used in two-handed power attacks.

Once a cadet had completed their training in the [Iron] rank and proven that they had enough foundation in [Sword Craft], they were elevated to the [Silver] rank at the end of their 10th year. Such a promotion could be accelerated based on merit but such advancement was difficult to achieve.

Once the rank of [Silver] was achieved, a cadet could their training with the same blade, or they could choose another weapon to specialize in. Some cadets retained their original sword, having grown fond of or accustomed to the blade they had trained with for so long as an [Iron] rank.

Others chose to move on and specialize. Always looking to expand their skills and techniques for something that would set them apart once they graduated from Arcadian Academy and were sent to future duty assignments.

Every so often, a [Iron] ranked cadet would come to the academy from a family or with a background that already had such a specialization. In those cases, they were allowed to keep their blade and continue their training, though they still had to progress through the ranks as everyone else did.

Tristan had been one of those people. He came from the clan that called the [Katana] their own. A clan of Sword saints.

The Valdanes clan were a family of warriors whose lineage spanned centuries. Every member of the main branch of the clan was expected to dedicate their lives to the way of the [Katana]. Since the formation of the Kingdom of Arcadia, there had not been a war in which the Valdanes clan did not have members on the front lines. Their dedication to their craft and their determination to live up to their name drove them to be the best that they could be.

But dedication to the way of the sword was not the only thing that set the Valdanes apart. They held a closely guarded secret that set them apart from ordinary swordsmen. A line as old as theirs had not been idle throughout the ages. The Valdanes had developed their own [Swordcraft] techniques. It was that technique that Tristan chased. He could feel the seed of the ability within himself starting to sprout. The undercurrent of the magic sending tiny shocks through his body.

With his prior training with his blade and his mastery of a magical ability, Tristan if he had been just a little older would have been ranked [Silver]. But that was not the way that the academy worked.

Tristan didn't mind. Everyone in his family and every other soldier of the Kingdom had started out as a [Bronze] rank at one academy or another and worked their way up. He had already ranked up once. He would go through his training, and before the end of the year, he would reach [Silver]. Tristan would pass the tests that were given and ascend into the next rank. All it takes is hard work and the ability to set yourself apart.

Another cadet in Tristan's position might have allowed themselves to get complacent. To skate by their year as a [Iron] without giving any effort to their training.

There had been cadets like that before. Those, like Tristan, who came from clans or families of warriors. Those who believed that they already had the skill to be better than a lowly [Bronze] or [Iron]. They neglected their training and their classes and were invariably shocked when they did not pass the ascendency tests and were sent home shamefaced to their families or pressed into service. But not I. That will never be me. If I stay diligent, one day, I'll be the best in my clan. Even better than father.

Tristan was determined not to be like them. He would train and learn all that he could from his instructors, and he would not only hone the skills that he now had but learn new ones. He would make his family proud and bring honor to them.

Enough of that. I can't put off the duty day. Tristan wiped his sweaty brow before giving a polite nod to the other cadets, all of whom were [Iron Ranked] like himself, united in their need to hone their techniques. He made his way toward the washroom where he kept a duty uniform in his locker.

Inside the washroom it was hard to see. Hot water spewed out of the shower heads causing the whole room to fog up. After Tristan secured his [Katana] within the locker, his sweat soaked training uniform fell to the ground. Within moments, he was standing beneath a hot stream of water as he washed off the night's exertions.

I'm getting better, but I'm not there yet. Tristan braced himself against the wall and let the hot water roll down his back as his thoughts drifted back to his training. As had become his custom, Tristan reflected on what he had done right, and what he had done poorly in a constant effort to not only improve, but to hone.

Midway through the shower, drowsiness set in and Tristan began to regret staying up all night again to train. It was a bit of a double-edged sword. Pulling an all nighter was a good way to keep up with or accelerate your training, but it also meant that he would feel it the following day.

He stepped away from the shower and stepped up to the mirror. The relative calm silence of the washroom was shattered by the morning reveille. Out of time.

There were bags under his eyes. As a good cadet, Tristan knew that rest was just as important as training was. There was no use in overextending yourself in practice if you could not function the rest of the day. But I was so close.

Much like his sword, Tristan was long and lithe. He had a slender yet muscular body. He wasn't as physically built as some other cadets or members of the cadre, but his build suited his sword style just fine. The [Katana] was an agile weapon, and those that wielded them followed suit.

The bags under his eyes made his already dark eyes look even darker, and his dark hair didn't help one bit. A couple more nights like this, and I might be mistaken for some demon that had made its way onto the academy grounds.

Still, there was nothing to be done about it now. I'll have to get through the day and actually sleep tonight, no matter how much his mind protested that he should be up and training.

Although the relative silence of the washroom had returned, it was soon broken again by the pounding sound of hard solens pounding on paved floor. By this time, Tristan had once again gotten dressed and was just finishing with lacing his boots.

Soon, the washroom was flooded with newly awoken cadets getting ready for the day. It always started out with washing, then breakfast, ten laps around the campus, and then physical training and lectures before a meal. Then the process would repeat in reverse until the sun dipped below the horizon.

Tristan's legs protested as he stood up from the bench in the washroom. He stretched and tried to mentally prepare himself for the morning run. However, his silent meditation was broken by a booming voice.

"Hey Tris, you know too much training isn't good for you. You're going to drop one day, and it's going to be me that has to carry you inside to the medical tent."

Tristan looked up. Way up.

Although Tristan himself was tall, this cadet was massive. He was not just tall but broad. His olive-colored skin spread out over muscle that was a testament of the Clans of the North.

Tristan responded to that towering figure with a genial smile. "Don't worry Markus, after carrying around that tree trunk of a sword all day, I should be a piece of cake."

Markus returned his smile with one of his own.

As a [Silver], Markus had been allowed to choose a specialization when he ascended. It had been no surprise when he had traded in the [Long Sword] that looked tiny in his massive hands for a [Long Sword] that was nearly as tall as Tristan was.

Being a year below him, Tristan had gotten to witness Markus's ascendency ceremony when the [Iron] rankers who became [Silver] rankers got to choose their new blades if they wished, and where the new cadets like Tristan who would become [Iron] rankers got sworn into the academy.

There was more to the ceremony than that of course. There was also the ascendency of some [Silver] rankers to the rank of [Gold], and some [Gold] rankers were selected to become members of the Cadre who were acted as the instructors at the academy until called into service, or as was often the case. The Cadre were not all promoted from within the academy ranks, many were those who had long been in service and as a testament to that service were allowed to retire in their aged years and work as cadre. Most cadre were equal in standing or higher to that of the [Gold] rankers.

There was one more rank in the academy above [Gold] but ascending to it was such a rare feat that most ascendency ceremonies went without the occurrence, [Platinum].

The exchange between the two cadets had caught the attention of one of the passing [Iron] rankers on his way into the washroom. Markus often got stares, he had become used to it, and it had become a running joke among his friends. As massive as he was, Markus couldn't be ignored.

"What're you looking at, [Iron]?" Markus said to the cadet in an intimidating voice. "If you're that keen on staring, then you can do so when we meet on the training field." The [Iron] paled and muttered a hasty excuse before going about his business.

When Markus turned back to Tristan, the two shared a quick laugh. Markus's gigantic stature was intimidating, but he was in fact, a very kind boy. As a [Silver] ranker, it was an unspoken rule that he needed to haze the [Iron] rankers. The [Gold] rankers did the same thing to both of the lower classmen, and the cadre spared no one.

Tristan and Markus had become friend's midway through the year. Although Markus still pulled rank and took every opportunity to make Tristan's life as a [Iron] difficult, Tristan often pushed back, much to the shock of the other [Iron] rankers. It's the way of things. Those who are meant to obey follow the rules, and those who are meant to lead, dare.

It was a good friendship, and the two respected one another.

"Seriously, though." Said Markus. "You got to stop being so hard on yourself, man. You're not going to help anyone if you burn out before you even hit [Silver]."

"Don't worry about it. I know my limits" Replied Tristan, "I'm going to get some sleep tonight. I can barely keep my eyes open right now anyways. Today will be tough. There's just no way I can spend another night training."

"Good. Try not to fall asleep in class. I know some of the lectures can be boring but that'll just mean more work for you." Markus turned serious for a second. "Seriously. You know how the Cadre are, if they can find a reason to give us Cadets extra duty, they will."

"I know." Tristan responded, remembering the time he'd been made to trim the weeds on the training field with scissors. "I appreciate the pep talk. I do, but don't you have some more [Iron] rankers to haze before breakfast?"

At that, Markus's grin turned wicked. "You know how much I love tormenting [Iron] rankers, but yeah, I've a quota to reach. Speaking of which, it's my duty as your superior to show you why it's never a good idea to overextend yourself. I'll see you in physical training."

Markus winked and finally left Tristan to finish getting ready.

Tristan knew that the "torment" that they were all put through was in good nature. There was no harm meant. In fact, it had been proven to build stronger bonds between the upper and lower cadets. Well… most of the time. Sometimes it could get a little out of hand.

Once Markus was gone, the feeling of grogginess intensified. Tristan groaned. His body was already mad at him for training so much. Now Markus wanted to spar during physical training. Today was going to be a long day. But at least I'm ready.

Although he was exhausted, most of Tristan's day went by quickly. He barely remembered breakfast or the agility drills. He had even made it through the first round of physical training and managing to fend of Markus's fierce attacks. The fight ended in a draw.

As Markus had said, the lectures were the most difficult part. Although they were full of fascinating subjects such as famous swordsmen in history and the wars they fought, Tristan was proactive and when he felt himself start to slip into sleep, he pushed himself away from his desk and stood at the back of the room.

It was during the second lecture period, just after lunch that Tristan slipped up. The class today was on dark beings. Those that stalked the land, causing strife and terror. Those that warriors like Tristan fought against on the front lines. Ogres, orc's imps, demons and darker things.

Any number of atrocities plagued the land, and it was up to the swordsmen to keep them at bay.

The subject was taught by one of the Cadre, and unlike other instructors, this one didn't allow Tristan to stand when he got tired. Although the subject was interesting, his fatigued mind began to wander. It was difficult to fight nodding off and his thoughts turned to other things.

There had been a reason he had spent so many nights training. Like all of the cadets, he was always striving to be better. To ascend until he was ready to take his position on the front lines and fight.

To that end, Tristan had been training extra to learn a new technique. [The Crimson Blade], what would be his first [Sword Craft] ability.

Unlike the secret technique of Tristan's family, this one was common knowledge. However, he had learned early on that just because the correct way to execute the technique was readily available to any who wanted to learn, that did not mean it was easy to do so.

Tristan's desire to learn the [The Crimson Blade], had come during one of the very few times that an enemy made it onto the academy's grounds. Mountain trolls were not very bright. The hulking monster of muscle and flesh had likely wandered onto the grounds accidentally. Still, once it made it far enough and saw prey, it had quickly turned into a threat.

Tristan had heard the screams and gone running. The troll had attacked some [Iron] rankers that had been training on the grounds. Luckily, none had been to severely injured.

Tristan, Markus, and some other cadets had been about to band together to stop the beast when someone else intervened.

The lone figure approached the massive troll, his sword gleaming in his hand. The troll lunged to attack, sweeping its thick limbs at the cadet in an attempt to smash him into the dirt, but the cadet was easily able to dodge the clumsy attack. Then, he had raised his sword, and it had begun to glow with a violent crimson light.

The cadet slashed out with his blade, and in the next instant, the troll was lying in two halves on the ground, steaming from the insides where the blade had cut through. It had been so hot that it had cauterized the two halves on impact.

"Who is that?" Tristan had asked Markus.

"That's True John." Had been Markus's response. "He's a [Platinum]."

[Platinum] was the highest rank at the academy. They were those who had completed their training and were waiting for their commission to the front lines. They were masters of their technique and often knew a wide variety of [Swordcraft]. There were only ever two or three at the academy at every given time.

Watching True John take down that troll had driven Tristan to learn the very same technique that he had seen the [Platinum] ranker use. Now, he trained as often as he could to master [The Crimson Blade].

A loud noise crashed on the table next to him, jolting Tristan out of his thoughts and into clear alertness. He immediately sat upright and surveyed his surroundings, his hand going toward his weapon looking for the danger.

Around him, the other cadets in the class were watching him with smirks. Looming above him was the cadre member that had been giving the lecture. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, evidently put thereafter she had dropped the heavy book on Tristan's desk.

Even after Markus's warning, Tristan had fallen asleep in class.

"Well, Mr. Valdanes. If you're that tired, maybe some duty in the stables after class will help wake you up, eh?" She commented, obviously annoyed that he had fallen asleep.

Tristan groaned but took it in stride. He had no excuse. I did fall asleep, that's on me. Punishments such as this were common in the academy. Just like the hazing of the lower classmen, there was no malicious intent behind it. Just the intent to keep cadets in line and build up their character. Tristan had gotten stable duty before. As far as extra duty was concerned, he really could have gotten a lot worse.

I really need to take Markus's advice and start getting more sleep. But as soon as I'm done, I'm falling face first into my bed and not waking up till the reveille.

The rest of the class went by without a hitch with Tristan paying close attention as the lecturer told them about different classes of the undead. More than once the instructor turned an eye his way to make sure he was still awake. One of the other Cadet's discretely offered him a rubber band and every time Tristan started to nod off, he snapped himself with it. It's not as good as standing up, but it will have to do.

The class ended and it was on to the next training session. Tristan managed to get through the second bout of physical training, but midway through the pre-dusk run through the obstacle course, he began to really feel his fatigue. After the obstacle course, they were all called for end of day formation by one of the older Cadre members, a man named Peter who was rumored to have once been a high ranking officer.

"Dismissed. Extra duty, you know where to go." Peter the Cadre shouted out. "Everyone else, get cleaned up, get changed into your casuals."

Oh well, there was nothing to be done about it. With any luck his stable duty would go quickly, and he could be in bed not to long after everyone else. With nothing else to do but avoid further trouble, Tristan made his way to the stables.