The bonfire crackled and within its illuminated influence, the song of steel echoed, one blade was relentless and the other was rather insignificant.
"I know it's not gonna be easy." Sieg murmured to himself.
The boy lay on the cold ground after taking a brutal flurry of sword strikes from Mister Knight. Sieg's forearms could no longer hold the sword steady.
If this was Mister Knight gauging his talent, then Sieg already knew the answer — below mediocre. No… nonexistent. Sieg had never held a proper weapon in his life.
A rusty knife from some forgotten dumpster doesn't really count.
The slum boy overextended his reach, let the blade drift off-center, lifted with his shoulders instead of his hips, over-rotated on his cuts, and crossed his feet while stepping.
"Stand," Mister Knight said calmly, not a single hint of encouragement, only the pressure of raw expectation from a mentor.
Grunt—
Sieg gripped his sword with whatever strength he could muster, standing up with trembling legs.
The Knight circled him slowly, inspecting every inch of his horrendous posture. Finally, he stopped behind Sieg, tapping the flat of his blade against his back.
Ow!
"You're holding the sword like a child. Hold it like a man. Your arms aren't leading — the body is. Drive the blade with your hips. Keep it above your shoulder."
Child? A child?!
"Yes sir…" Sieg obeyed without complaints — however, he shakily lifted his sword, Mister Knight nodded once and struck down lightly on the sword, forcing him to absorb the pressure.
Gah!
"Again. Maintain it. Use your hips." Mister Knight did not stop his guidance.
Gulp— I'm done for…
Hours passed as Sieg repeated a downward strike, over and over again, each poor attempt was corrected, while every dull motion scrutinized by Mister Knight.
"Focus and learn faster."
... "yes sir."
I'm not having a good time. Sieg could feel it, his wrist never felt this kind of burn before, paired with his aching legs, and with lungs trying its best to support every movement, yet despite all those, once again, not a single complaint ever left his mouth.
Sieg had never once considered learning the sword, but now it didn't seem so bad. For the first time, it no longer felt like he was wasting his life away.
Mister Knight respected his perseverance and in return, every mistake Sieg does was not punished by harsh words, but with endless repetition — the strikes must flow from the body, not from brute force from his slum boy habits.
Next came the horizontal slices, left and right. Sieg staggered, completely off-balance, swinging blindly at first. Mister Knight pressed his blade against Sieg's, demonstrating a thwart cut — intercepting each attack at the proper angle.
"Boy, You do not meet force with force," mister knight said. "Redirect it, and control the centerline, do it again."
The blizzard outside intensified — though within, Mister Knight forced Sieg to advance and retreat with passing steps, with the goal of maintaining his form under exhaustion.
As expected, every missed step and wobble in Sieg's stance was met with a sharp correction. Mister Knight held Sieg in a plow guard, tapped at his wrist, adjusted his shoulders, and forced him to repeat until his cuts felt natural rather than forced.
What's the goal? Does he expect me to learn this all within a week? All of these feel like it takes months! Wait… how long have I been here anyway…
Sieg couldn't even tell if it was day or night, as outside remained dark despite the passing hours — however, even now. Mister knight demanded binding drills. He pressed on Sieg's blade relentlessly, teaching him to feel pressure without flinching.
It's so hard to respond to it, I kept hesitating! Why am I so bad??
Then suddenly, Mister Knight stopped, he lowered his guard, and Sieg did as well.
"Good, well have our supper, then we will rest."
"Finally!"
Sieg finds himself eating the same beef stew on a make shift bench, it was as delicious as ever, however, Mister Knight wasn't eating anything.
"You're not gonna eat mister?"
"Pay me no mind."
Sieg wasn't certain whether this was a real person or just a creation of the trial, but he wanted it to be real.
"Can I at least know your name? I am… Sieg Ravel." He asked, carefully placing the empty bowl right next to him.
"My name?" The knight who was near the fireplace looked back at him, "It's Ark."
Mister Knight wasn't that talkative, Sieg doubted the man even had much of a personality. Still, it was a cool name, all things considered.
"Mister Ark, after all of this, can I really ascend the mountain with the blizzard outside? Will it ever stop?"
The blizzard outside was unlike any normal storm, and there had to be a way to stop it.
The knight ignored Sieg's question — he simply kept stoking the smokeless fire, his one visible white eye staring directly at the flames, with madness and hatred.
Mister Ark asked sternly, "Your name is Sieg? And I'm right to assume that your mother gave you that name?"
"That would be right, Mister Knight." Sieg replied.
"A slum boy, easy prey for a world that besieges the weak, but you don't surrender, You've proven that much."
"You wonder if you'll ever ascend the mountain through the blizzard?" Mister Ark paused; while Sieg listened silently.
"I cannot say. But I do know that a mere sword and training alone won't carry you upward. The answer to this trial is more than a simple climb — and in the end, it is your intention. Whatever that may be, do hope it plays in your favor."
Ahh, why does he talk like that! But I do know my intentions… I know what I want…
"I understand." Sieg said, his hand already gripping his longsword, anticipating the next training session after his meal.
Yet, Ark gestured for him to not take his sword, "Sieg, go take your rest, we'll do this again once you're awake."
Sieg felt bliss upon hearing those words.
As in truth, his body was already on the verge of collapsing, but he was too prideful to even admit it.
"Well, if you say so." As Sieg walks towards his bed, the slum boy was fascinated at the contrast of his old cardboard bed back in the real world — to this fur one.
Sieg will sleep like a hog. He'd never experienced a bed like this before. He realized he'd been missing out on a lot, even little things like this.
His back sighed in relief on the fur bed, and with a blanket on his side, Sieg's eyes gazed at the knight who stand guard near the bonfire… His eyes begun to flutter along with the flickering of the bonfire's flame…
Thank you, Mister Knight.
Outside, the unforgiving blizzard cried with frozen daggers — but for now, its strong winds and snow, were a comfort to a slum boy's silent slumber.
Chapter End.