The days went on in a business as usual sort of way, but while Hansel was off preparing for the Scouts, and with Sam gaining some attention as The Alchemist, Victor found himself stuck deeper than ever in Scribe’s Purgatory. He often murmured to himself, “Could be a week, could be a month, could be never!”
Fortunately, never was not quite forever, and the end of his idleness was at hand. He was in the library writing an essay on the tendency for plague maidens to keep rot hounds as companions when Hansel interrupted him. “Would you care for a training session?”
“Yes!” he said, gladly setting down his pen. “I’ve been dying in here!”
The academy’s training grounds consisted of a garden surrounding a lake, over which a red bridge arched. Around the garden was an obstacle course, wooden dummies for practising sword-play, a large padded wrestling mat, and a rack stocked with training weapons. It was a fine sunny day. Sam had accompanied them to their match and sat quietly under a tree with her book.
Hansel stepped towards the wrestling mat but Victor rushed to the weapons rack. “Oh no you don’t,” he said, picking up a wooden sword. “If we compete it’ll be on my terms.” He tossed the sword to Hansel and took one for himself; they circled each other like spiders poised to strike.
Hansel was certainly stronger than Victor but did not lack his elegance in combat. “Are you sure you can beat me this time?”
“Well I don’t plan on losing.” Victor shuffled forward but Hansel stepped back, and he feigned a first strike before bringing his blade left for a blow under Hansel’s ribs; Hansel blocked it without difficulty and hopped back to distance himself from Victor. It became a game of strike and parry, with Victor not allowing his opponent to launch a counter attack.
Hansel remained in the defensive, though he was far from losing. “Try not to tire yourself out,” he advised.
They left the mats and Victor pushed Hansel towards the bridge. “I know what I’m doing!” he replied. At last Hansel tried a thrust but Vic rolled aside and knocked him on the upper-thigh, recovering quickly and stepping onto the bridge. “Aha!” he cried. “I draw first blood, and I have the high-ground!”
Hansel rubbed the area where he had been hit. “Do you always find so much joy in combat?”
“Only when I’m winning,” Vic replied.
Hansel raised his sword. “Well I shall have to do something about that!” His offensive was quick and loaded with fury. In a matter of seconds he delivered a blow to the back of Vic’s shoulder. “I told you not to tire yourself.”
“From what I can see, we’re even.” The pace of their duel quickened and for a moment they were evenly matched, but soon Hansel gained the upper hand.
On the edge of defeat, Vic was thrown over the railing of the bridge but landed on his back on the bank of the lake below. Hansel jumped after him in an attempt to deliver the finishing blow. Vic rolled to the side and tossed a handful of sand into Hansel’s face, granting him just enough time to place his sword against Hansel’s neck.
Hansel scoffed. “Well that’s not fair. You cheated.”
“You’ve been in the army too long. We fight monsters, not men, and monsters never play nice.” In a flash Hansel bashed Victor’s blade away, disarmed him with a strike to the wrist, and then elbowed him in the chest, knocking him into the water with a splash. Victor sat up. “What the hell, Hansel!”
“Men don’t play nice either, though I see your point.” He helped his friend up. “That’s two-for-two; we’ll call it a draw.”
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