"Pleased to meet you, young lord," the knight bowed. "I am Edward, the Deputy Commander of the seventh platoon under the banner of Hart, and am honored by your arrival."
Edward Harper.
This man was a 3-ringed knight, and is the one in-charge in teaching the basics and foundations of swordsmanship of this platoon.
Every Hart child has a platoon assigned to them. This one happens to serve the youngest.
Since there are only three Cadets (knight in training) in this platoon coming from the village, Edward is also in charge of teaching the rest of the knights.
"Drop the formalities. I'm here to train to become a knight."
The knights behind Edward… well, they didn't seem particularly strong, according to Seven's calculation.
It was true. Most of the knights standing here were just ordinary men strong enough to swing a sword, but without any of the power a Zi could grant.
That means they cannot walk further down the path of the sword. They are strong, until they face a knight who has opened at least one ring— only a rare few had awakened even a single ring, and those were treated like treasures among knights, let alone Edward who is said to have 3 rings.
Normally, they are used as meat shields in wars since the more numbers the better, some because of patriotism, and the pay is good!
In their case, it was because they needed to gain the skills to guard their own small village, and earn enough to support their families.
Seven, however, is the youngest of a family renowned for their swordsmanship. He is expected to be capable of opening a Zi Ring.
'So that's my fellow cadets, eh? He really looks like Sophie.'
Looking at the three cadets, he frowned. They didn't seem to welcome him, especially Sophie's older brother whom in her story, he was jealous of Seven and wanted to rip his skin open.
'Try it if you can, you damn fudger.'
He smirked, taunting him. It worked.
Not long after, Edward had called them four.
The three had already known about what he's about to teach, but the lord still doesn't.
Truth is, Edward didn't want to accept him. He absolutely refused the idea for whatever reasons he had in mind, but he was ordered by the old man in their talk inside the tent earlier, telling him to just teach him.
Looking at Seven, he couldn't help but frown.
'As if he would change in such a short amount of time, definitely not possible. How could I teach someone who once insulted his own knights?'
Thing is, they just needed to hold for a little while, at least until the lord's 16th birthday ceremony where his fate would be judged by his father.
The outcome would benefit them in any way: if Seven is deemed worthy, they'll remain in this platoon— if not, they'd be transferred to others as that means Seven would be disowned for being untalented.
He had hoped that the lord would be deemed worthy, but looking at his pitiful physique and the amount of time before the ceremony (just three weeks away), that seemed impossible.
Unless, he is talented enough to open his first Zi Ring, as that is enough in itself.
Then again, that is unlikely to happen.
"Alright, we'll begin with the basics. Lythian, Perci, Randolf, you three can spar over there since you already know about this."
"Yes, sir!"
The three agreed, leaving Seven along with Edward.
"Then, young lord. Grip your sword gently, don't put too much strain on the hilt," Edward demonstrated. "Then keep your feet—"
Edward paused, seeing Seven already in the position he was just about to teach, though it was sloppy.
He had no idea that seven got it from reading novels and mimicking their poses back in his room, and it was similar to the pose the knights are doing in the distance.
"Am I doing this right?"
"Good," Edward replied. "But your head tilts too much and the blade blocks your vision. Keep your eyes level open."
"Yes."
Edward corrected his grips and adjusted his angles.
"Now, cuts."
Edward demonstrated a downward strike. The motion was simple, yet the impact sang like a bell and seemed to split the air.
He then faced Seven with a wooden sword of his.
"Start with controlled strikes. Aim for my sword with the minimum effort."
"Yes."
"And, don't over extend your arms."
Seven picked up his wooden sword, assuming the same posture Edward had taught. He let the motion flow through his muscles, feeling the resistance of gravity, the slight give of the snow beneath his boots.
Clank, clank!
- – – 777 – – -
And so, four days have passed.
It was currently the 6th day of Nocten, and tomorrow would be the day of Seven's assassination.
But for the past four days, he did nothing but learn from Edward, endlessly, persistently, that even the first hesitant Edward had to compliment his growth.
It was even visible that he gained a little bit of muscle for his frail stature. Eating a handful of meat after meat about seven times a day contributed to its growth.
His stamina was now also able to at least keep up with the training, as he had continued running laps and laps around the yard after the lesson.
Iria also watched him, bringing him more meats for him to indulge during lesson, though more than a third of the portion will be eaten by the knights as Edward warned him not to eat much during training.
She was proud, of course, but she also looked a little worried— maybe anxious.
"Please don't push yourself too much, my lord," Iria said, walking beside Seven towards the training camp. "Your body may not be able to handle more if this continues for two more days."
"Don't worry."
Gritting his teeth, he gripped the hilt of the sword tighter. Yes, he had even brought the sword back to his room to practice before and after sleeping.
"Today would be the last day I am going to push my limits."
After all, Edward had instructed them that today would be the sparring session of the knights in training, including him— as a handicap for starting just a few days ago, he only gets to spar and choose his opponent.
More than that, today would be the day he needs to put in much more work than before, since tomorrow might be his final day alive.