Chapter 102

Aunt Agnes' statement took me by surprise. My preconception of her based on both Gramps and Mum’s comments was of a woman who carefully dolled out her wealth, only investing when she was confident of a return. Yet here she was, casually declaring that she would pay to help me improve my aether core — something Gramps had insinuated as being ruinously expensive and almost entirely restricted to the upper crust of society.

Between the offer of aid and her posh bearing — against my better judgement — I found myself liking Aunt Agnes. The thought immediately had my hackles up. I wasn’t this trusting, and after Magatha’s severe turn around in the years we had spent apart, the ease with which Agnes inserted herself into our family unit bothered me.

“Of course, I would like to see a demonstration of the boy's capabilities first,” Agnes added, her attention shifting back to the adults in the room and ruining my train of thought.

“Huh?” Gramps replied, face scrunching up in a way that hid the brightness of his eyes. “Wait, you think we’re lying to you?”

“Of course not, Cornelius. I believe that you believe that the boy has the Path of Exceptionalism — though the idea that he has progressed the Path to the second Tier by the age of eight—”

“Eight and a half,” I interjected.

Agnes waved my correction off. “Eight and a half is frankly… a little too much. If it’s true, why, he might be the second coming of Lord Darthinian. But I think having him show off his capabilities is perfectly reasonable? Don’t you?”

Before anyone could object, my Aunt continued to speak, waving a hand around elegantly as though she were a teamster and we her beasts of burden merely fulfilling her wishes.

“Besides, I need to see his strengths as well as his weaknesses so we can plan for his future. That’s only sensible I would think, lest he stumble on his path to greatness.”

She spread her hands on the table, taking the time to make eye contact with each of us and giving the impression that she was personally asking for our opinions and thoughts on the matter. I found myself impressed with her, again, the thought sneaking in on its own.

By now, I had realised something else was at play here. I didn’t know what, but if I was to describe it to someone like Nazim or Gramps, I would have called it a subtle push to view Aunt Agnes in a ‘good’ light. I knew I could still disagree with her because my anger flared when she started acting like she could immediately decide my future after knowing me for less than an hour. But, even when I disagreed with her, a part of me was gently whispering that her intentions were coming from only the most supportive of places.

Still, I knew she was right about testing me — after all, I wouldn’t have believed me either.

“I’m okay with a demonstration, Mum,” I said, seeing how she was frowning at my grandaunt. “I’ll call Nazim down and we can show Aunt Agnes what I can do next to your garden?”

“Nazim?” Agnes asked, looking around. “Did you already get a trainer for the boy, Cornelius? I thought your letter said otherwise.”

Gramps was already standing at my suggestion. “Nazim is family, sister. Though he spends most of his time pushing Bastian to excel and protecting him from threats.”

Agnes snorted a little. “I suppose that’s what you get living out here on the frontier. Dangerous monsters and beasts. Well, bring him out if you wish, but I think it best if Blake tests the boy.”

Blake pushed off the wall and gave Agnes a nod, the pockmarked bodyguard heading for the back door. I stood as well. I heard Gramps calling for Nazim to come down and to bring my equipment.

Everyone gathered in the back yard with Meredith returning while I strapped my shield to my arm and pulled on my clawed gloves, concealing the ring beneath it. Aunt Agnes was holding a parasol with a handle made of wood and the shiny glint of metal underneath the frilly fabric. While seeing such extravagance was new for me, the real surprise was when Meredith produced a second parasol, handing it to my Mum who seemed to soften a little at the thoughtfulness.

Damn, she’s good, I thought as I finished tightening the buckles around my claw.

“The Hunting Wolf style?” Blake asked curiously, glancing over at Nazim who was standing next to Gramps, paw resting on the hilt of his sword.

“A little barbaric, though perhaps some of the students of Songleaf might find it exotic. I suppose it will depend on just how skilled he is at the style. Though admittedly, I would have preferred something like the Dancing Flame style of Mellides or the Winddancer style of Calliade. I doubt the young Meravian Nobility would appreciate being beaten by a style famous in Ajinar,” Agnes mused out loud.

I recognised the names at least, if not the styles. Mellides was the Northwestern Duchy of Meravia, the name based on the current Ducal family. Calliade was in the Southwest, with Duchess Alexia Calliade ruling from the city of Thessavar on the southern coast.

“Is there anything you want me to test in particular, ma’am?” Blake asked as he set his feet and drew his rapier. The metal of the blade failed to reflect the sunlight, looking more like a dark grey rod rather than a refined sword. The contrast between Agnes’s words and her bodyguard's weapon gave me a moment's pause as I drew my own sword.

“Push him,” Agnes answered casually as she waved a hand from the shaded comfort beneath her parasol.

I thought someone yelped a response to my aunt, but I didn’t have time to focus on it. Blake moved smoothly across the dirt, feet close to the ground as he probed me with a slash followed by a lunge. I avoided the slash and went to parry the lunge. As blades collided, my arm was thrown wide, only pushing his blade slightly off target. Letting the force of my rebound carry me around, I deflected his follow-up at the last moment using my buckler before diving backwards and rolling across the top of my shield to reset.

Blake didn’t take advantage, continuing to pursue me but not with any haste. My eyes followed his blade for a moment before resetting to his shoulders. I had expected his rapier to be a lot lighter since the blade was less than a third of the width of my own. Yet that initial exchange told me that in terms of weight, my sword was on the losing end.

That dark metal is definitely not normal, I decided.

Reevaluating my approach, I started to circle to my right. Years of practising the Hunting Wolf style taught me one simple fact about the best way to utilise its forms. The Hunting Wolf, by nature, was predictable. George had altered his version of the style to be less predictable using his Earth magic. For me, that wasn’t an option. Only after I started practising with Nazim did I learn the normal method for avoiding the predictability inherent in the forms — simply put, I needed to abuse my opponent’s expectations.

Blake followed me in my circle, matching my footwork with his own conservative style that seemed to favour feet being closer together. As we closed, I went on the attack, using an upward swing that was meant to force a parry. Blake took the bait, his rapier flicking out with enough force to deflect my blade. At the same time I retracted my right arm, tucking it into my side and pivoting to slash out with my claws at the man's unprotected side. He quickly moved backwards, clearly expecting the claw attack which put him in the perfect position for me to leap forward, blade extended in the Warden’s Lunge.

I saw the barest hint of a smile as my opponent sped up, dodging to his right. Then his sword was crashing into mine with enough force to send me spinning again. Once more I went with it, throwing my shield arm out to catch any secondary strike. I was right to do so as my shield bashed the follow up thrust to the side, if only because Blake was holding back his strength.

The man's tight smile told me the amount of force he was using was intentional. George and Nazim had both only ever matched my strength and speed. When they beat me, it was by relying on their experience, skill, and occasionally magic or reach. Blake seemed to have no such restraint. While I had no doubt he was still holding back in terms of strength and speed, more than once now, he had struck with a level of strength I could not match.

The thought of him holding back fled as Blake used Quick Step to charge at me. My shield came up in time to block the kick at my chest — only for my shield to bash me in the chin. I flew backwards, turning in the air so that when I landed, I rolled back to my feet. Licking my lips, I tasted blood. Then he was on me again. His blade, heavy and thin, was like the flickering of a snake's tongue as he stole the initiative. Quick movements of the sword tip kept me on the back foot. Every time I tried to circle, he would get faster for a second and corral me back into moving in a straight line backwards.

Forced to match him at a game he knew better, I kept shifting my own sword to parry and deflect him — the saving grace being that his small movements limited the strength behind each one. Then he was tangling my blade with his, and I saw his next movement coming even if I had no way to stop it.

With our blades hooked around each other and my hand forced to parry at an uncomfortable angle, Blake pushed my sword wide and up trying to disarm me. Aether flowed into Controlled Grip and instead of my sword flying away, my arm was pushed up with the force. I smiled. Blake’s blade was up as well. I dove forward, claws reaching for his stomach. The hilt of his blade descended at a speed I couldn’t physically match — and ran straight into an aether barrier before it could stop me. The tips of my fingers grazed his leather vest as he blurred backwards with another Quick Step.

I reset, adrenaline pumping in my veins as I prepared to pursue him, all thought of the spar gone.

“That’s enough!” Mum yelled, breaking me out of my focus. Blake stopped as well, glancing at Agnes who dipped her head in agreement.

“Quite the showing indeed. Thoughts, Blake?” she asked, ignoring the anger Mum was directing at her after seeing me almost get knocked out.

“They’re telling the truth or he’s completely ruined his foundation,” Blake answered calmly while slipping his rapier back into the loop on his belt. “He’s far too fast and strong for a boy his size and age. I pushed him and he doesn’t even seem winded. He chained at least two Skills there in the middle of a fight and the Hunting Wolf style he favours isn’t for show. I’ve never fought one of the Wolfkin of Ajinar, but I did see one fight once — your nephew matches what I witnessed. I would venture that he has had good teachers.”

Blake offered a polite nod in Nazim’s direction. The wolfkin bared his teeth that some might have mistaken for a smile but I could tell was more of a warning.

“Ruined my foundation?” I asked, sword still in hand as I licked the last of the blood from my lips, the iron tang helping calm me down in spite of everything.

“Completing many simple Paths to the fifth or sixth tier,” Gramps answered, waving a hand in annoyance. “If that was what he had been doing, he wouldn’t have gotten his Path of Exceptionalism to the second Tier already.”

“Perhaps,” Agnes agreed. “I suppose the next test will determine how true that is. Meredith, if you wouldn’t mind, my dear?”

The maid’s eyes flicked to me. I lifted my shield on instinct, smiling as a single thought filled my mind.

Bring it.