Arran and Doran stood on a small patch of grass near the walls of the stronghold. While it wasn’t far from the training fields, it was obscured from view by a group of trees that blocked the eyes of any curious onlookers.
"So you don’t know anything about sword styles?" Doran’s question was blunt, but his voice held no scorn or mockery. Instead, he rely seed curious.
Arran shook his head. "Not really. I’ve had several teachers who taught in their own styles, but their skill was far beyond mine. I picked up techniques and practices, but I never got anywhere close to mastering a style."
"Seems it served you well enough, so far," Doran said. "But in the long run, continuing on that path will limit you. When we fought, I could see that your skill already exceeds your knowledge."
"You’re right," Arran admitted. There was no point in denying it — so far, he had gotten by on strength and experience, but he knew his lack of knowledge was already hurting his progress.
"My problem is the opposite," Doran continued. "My foundation is strong, but I lack the experience to put it to full use. Sparring with the students and teachers here is no use, either — few of them have any experience, and even those that do haven’t seen battle in decades."
Arran nodded. He’d obviously noticed Doran’s limitations in their fight. If the adept had been more experienced, defeating him would have been far more difficult.
"Given the situation, I suggest we train together," Doran said. "I can help you gain a proper foundation in our House’s styles, and you can return the favor by sharing your experience when we spar."
"I’m interested, of course, but..." Arran hesitated before continuing, "Are you sure? It sounds like you’d be on the losing end of that deal."
And that was putting it mildly. What Doran suggested was a completely lopsided arrangent, which would cost the adept nurous hours while barely taking any effort from Arran.
Doran shrugged. "There are many people here who can teach sword styles, but very few with any battle experience. Having you as a training companion would be a treasure to any adept in the House — along with a good portion of the Masters."
"All right." Arran grinned. "Then I’ll take your offer."
"Perfect!" Doran said, a broad smile on his face. "Then let’s get started right away. I won’t waste your ti with any of the basic styles — with your skill, they’d do you little good. Instead, I’ll show you a few advanced styles. They’ll be harder to learn, but they’ll still be useful even when your skill progresses."
"Sounds good," Arran replied, eager to learn more. "What do you have in mind?"
"I’ll start with a style called the Stalwart Blade," Doran said. "It’s best if I demonstrate it. Look closely — you’ll probably recognize more than a few of the techniques involved."
The adept dropped into a fighting stance and began to execute a series of movents, each technique seamlessly flowing into the next in a precise sequence of sword strokes.
Arran quickly understood that this was a defensive style, focused on blocking and parrying an opponent’s attacks. The few offensive moves it included were mostly counters, clearly intended to take advantage of opponents whose attacks had just been broken.
As Doran had predicted, Arran recognized many of the techniques in the style, but he was astonished by how smoothly the adept moved between them. It seed as if every sword stroke already set up the next one, creating a constant flow of movent.
Over the course of several minutes, Doran executed well over a hundred different movents, each of them distinct from all the others.
When he finally finished, he sheathed his sword, then asked, "You’ve already been through the Tempering, right?"
"Right," Arran confird.
"Then you should be able to repeat what I showed you, more or less," the adept said. That Arran had already been through the Tempering despite being an initiate did not seem to bother him. "Give it a try."
Arran did as Doran said, copying the series of movents he had observed monts earlier. He got so of the movents wrong and his transitions weren’t anywhere near as smooth as Doran’s, but overall, he thought he did pretty well — especially considering that this was his first ti.
When he finished, Doran raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. I knew you were talented, but I didn’t expect you to pick it up this quickly. There’s a few small things you got wrong. Let show you..."
He spent the next hour explaining the style in more detail and giving more demonstrations, until eventually, Arran grasped the basics of the Stalwart Blade style.
This was far from actually mastering it, of course. What he had learned were just the basic movents, and mastering the style would require learning to combine them as smoothly as Doran did.
The true challenge, Arran knew, lay in the infinite number of combinations that could be ford with these techniques, and the countless transitions that would be needed to do so effectively.
"Seems like you’ve got the hang of it," Doran said finally. "Let’s move on. The next style I’ll show you is called the Floating Leaf. Like the Stalwart Blade, it’s a defensive style, except it focuses on evading and deflecting attacks."
Again, the adept demonstrated the style’s core techniques, with Arran intently studying his every movent.
They spent another hour practicing before Arran just barely comprehended the Floating Leaf style’s many elents, and when he did, Doran gave him a satisfied grin.
"With the Stalwart Blade and the Floating Leaf, you’ll have the tools to create a solid defense, though learning to combine the techniques will take quite a bit of practice."
Arran nodded in understanding. That it would take a vast amount of practice to master the two styles was clear — together, they encompassed hundreds of techniques, and learning to unite those would undoubtedly be a monuntal task.
"Now, let’s move on to offense," Doran said. "There are a number of styles that would work for you, but with your experience, I figure the basic styles would be a waste of your ti. Instead..."
He hesitated before continuing, although there was an eager glint in his eyes. "There’s sothing — not a normal style, exactly — that might suit you. It will be difficult, though."
Arran’s interest was imdiately sparked. "What is it?" he asked eagerly.
"The Thousand Cuts style," Doran replied. "It’s the House’s single greatest achievent — a collection of nurous attacks, all refined to match the others and united in what could be called a style of styles. I am still far from mastering it myself, but if you want, I can show you the basic movents."
His brow furrowed, Arran gave Doran a slow nod. While the idea sounded intriguing, he had a hard ti imagining what it would look like in practice.
Once more, the adept began a demonstration, forming technique after technique in a constant flow of movent. Yet where the previous two demonstrations had ended in minutes, this ti, it seed like there was no end to the sequence of movents.
Although Arran didn’t keep count, it was clear that the number of techniques was well over a thousand, each of them different from the others. And yet, they were all clearly part of a greater whole — as if each attack had been created from the sa philosophy.
Finally, after nearly half an hour, Doran finished. His brow was covered in sweat, but there was a look of excitent on his face.
"That was over a thousand," Arran pointed out.
"The Thousand Cuts style was created ages ago," Doran explained, breath still heavy from the exertion. "Over the years, the House of Swords has continuously added new techniques to it. By now, there are nearly three thousand, although it’s been nearly a century since anyone has expanded it."
"It’s astonishing," Arran said truthfully. "Compared to this, the other two styles you showed look like children’s gas. But... how can anyone master sothing as complex as this?"
Doran’s display had been beyond impressive, but Arran had noticed that the adept was still far from mastering the Thousand Cuts style. While he obviously had the basic techniques down — an impressive feat in itself — the way he combined them was noticeably less smooth than with the previous two styles.
"Most people don’t," Doran replied. "In fact, there’s currently no one in the House who has done so. But even without completely mastering it, it’s a style beyond compare. Just the sheer number of attacks gives you endless ways to deal with every enemy. And anyone who does master it..."
He didn’t finish the sentence, though the glow in his eyes suggested that it was sothing he had often dread about.
"And you want to learn it?" Arran asked, feeling a slight sense of dread at the thought of taking on so monstrous a task.
"Correct," the adept replied cheerfully. "So we’d better get started right away."
In the hours that followed, he patiently guided Arran through the steps of the Thousand Cuts style. It was far too much to take in all at once, so instead, he broke up the basic techniques into chunks, teaching them to Arran a hundred at a ti.
The hours passed quickly as they practiced, and engrossed in swordplay as they were, midday ca and went without either of them noticing.
Arran had morized half the techniques when the sun began to set, and as it did, he looked up at the sky in shock.
"Practice... I was supposed to practice with the other adepts this morning," he blurted out, now realizing that he had completely missed his first day of training.
Doran shrugged dismissively. "We’ll stop by Master Kallias’s place and explain. Once I tell him how we spent the day, I doubt he’ll mind us skipping practice. Let’s go."
It turned out that Master Kallias had a house barely ten minutes from the training fields, and it wasn’t long before they stood at his door, Arran feeling a slight sense of panic as Doran knocked.
The door opened a mont later, revealing Master Kallias’s robed figure. He raised an eyebrow as he saw them, then spoke, "It seems my lost students have finally appeared. Any reason the two of you were absent today?"
"We were busy training and forgot about the ti," Doran said. He briefly explained what he had taught Arran earlier that day, and as he did, Master Kallias’s eyes went wide with surprise.
"You’re teaching him the Thousand Cuts style? On his first day here?"
"Not just that," Doran said, a grin on his face. "He’s already learned half the basic techniques."
Master Kallias’s eyes shot toward Arran. "Show ," he said, his expression serious.
Arran did as the man said, showing the movents and techniques he had learned so far. It was a clumsy effort, he thought — but then, after barely a day, one could not reasonably expect more than that.
Yet when he finished his demonstration, there was a look of amazent in the Master’s eyes. "Remarkable," he said. "Absolutely remarkable. This much, in less than a day... his progress is even faster than yours, Doran. And not just that... did you notice?"
"It was hard to miss," Doran said, smiling broadly. Seeing Arran’s confused look, he explained, "The Thousand Cuts style was created for the battlefield, not the training grounds. And with your experience, you’re getting so parts right that have given more than a little trouble."
"Not just you," Master Kallias said with a loud laugh. "rely watching him has already given so insights I’ve long pursued." He turned to Arran, then continued, "But let’s see how you do with the other parts."
Before Arran knew it, they were practicing once more, this ti with Master Kallias joining in. More hours passed, and Arran’s knowledge of the Thousand Cuts style steadily increased, until eventually, he had a bare understanding of all the basic techniques it comprised.
By then, it was well past midnight, and Master Kallias said, "We’ll continue this tomorrow. For now, the two of you should get so sleep." There was a hint of reluctance in his voice, as if would have preferred to spend another few hours training.
Arran quickly bade the others farewell, then made his way back to the mansion. Even with his strengthened body, the day had left him weary, and he was eager to eat sothing and get to bed.
When he arrived at the mansion, he found Brightblade sitting in the garden. She was alone, and as he approached, she gave him a curious look.
"You’re late."
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