Rise of the Archmage Alister

Have you tried being competent?" asked Count Destil. His eyebrow stung where he'd been struck by the fencing foil. It seemed carelessly close to his eye, but his father was a master duelist. He'd certainly never risk blinding his second son, whom he expected to bring the family honor on the battlefield. "We have given you a masterful tutor, child, you should be able to block that sequence. It's only fifteen movements long." The man had a full head of brown hair, and sharp green eyes. Unfortunately for Jacob, they lacked any warmth for the ten-year-old boy.

"Father, you're much faster than the tutor," he defended, covered in sweat, "And my teacher did the last two moves in that sequence differently."

This excuse just got an annoyed sniff, "Then you should outclass them in no time, shouldn't you? Again."

Young Jacob wasn’t done until he was covered in light bruises. None were too dark that they would be noticeable, and, aside from his hands, none were in places they would be easily seen in traditional school garb. His mother demanded of his father that Jacob be presentable in social circles. The child had been going to that specialized school in a program for knights, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t eventually have to be presentable for a wife.

His hands were constantly rough-looking. Especially his knuckles. Jacob wrapped his knuckles and part of his palm so the calluses and cuts wouldn’t hurt as much. Father needed him to be strong so he could bring the family honor. He couldn’t let cuts and bruises get him down.

When he was at home, he trained. When he was at school, he trained. When he was hanging out with his friend Ode was the only time he could relax a little. He liked to show her what he learned! Mother didn’t approve of her much, she was a lesser noble and of a new family, but Jacob liked her well enough. He didn’t think she was brutish or dirty or whatever.

Dinner was a pain. Mother had the servants dress him up nicely, which meant she wanted something - either from him, his siblings, or his father. One of the servants, Millie, changed his bandages and put some healing salve on his knuckles and palms before she put new ones on. Jacob thought she was nice too, but mother said not to get too close to any of the servants since they were mostly commoners. He wasn’t supposed to thank any of them since what they were doing was expected of them.

“Child,” Jacob’s father motioned to his usual chair, “Jacob. Come, sit.”

“Ah shit…,” he muttered under his breath as he shuffled over.

His mother smacked the back of his hand once he did, “Don’t slouch! Don’t shuffle your feet. You’re dressed so nicely, can’t you act like it?”

“Yes mother. Sorry mother.”

She huffed and cut at her plate of meat so delicately and proper, “We’re going out after the meal to the Rether Mansion. They’ve got a couple of daughters around your age so we want you to start getting to know them. Nothing is set in stone or anything, but we must keep our options open. Understand?”

“…yes mother.”

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The light metal foil whipped out swiftly, knocking aside a blow that would have slapped Jacob's forearm. A slight twirl of the wrist had Ode's own foil twisted out of the way, followed up by a step and arm lift that brought his training weapon to the corner of her jaw. Even if she was wearing a helm, that move could have cut an artery, were the blade sharp.

"You were... better, that time, but you've really got to watch blade position more," Jacob said, only slightly out of breath while the mage huffed and puffed, "That was way off my wrist though. Even without armor that wouldn't have disarmed me."

The girl groaned, pushing aside his foil, "Ugh. Stupid swords. If you'd just let me use a proper catalyst instead this would go way different.”

This just got a grin, "Sure would. But you won't always have one, will you? They're not legal everywhere. Besides, I kick your ass with staves too, anyways."

Ode just scowled, "Yeah well... the only thing you do with them is swing them! MY training is way more-"

She got waved off, cutting off her sentence, "Blah blah blah. Do you want to be ready for that duel that Gen challenged you to or not? I mean, you gave the condition that she had to leave Marias alone if you won, on her honor of all things. You can't lose, can you?"

This just got a stare from the young woman, who knew that Jacob had pressed a few buttons socially to make the challenge happen. To give Ode the chance. He was right, even if he was a jerk; she didn't WANT to fight the other girl, but it had finally reached the point where nothing else would work. "Yeah. Right. I guess that is true. I guess I owe you one, too, since you actually tried a little social grace for once... fine, let's go again. Wrist, inner elbow, armpit, neck."

Two hours later, Ode was on the floor. She was tapped out completely, all but unable to move. "What... what the hell are you?" She asked between puffs of air.

This just got a smirk from the sweaty boy, “My father's son. Are you done?" He flipped her practice foil up into the air and grasped its handle, having caught it by its "blade".

This just got a squeezed fist and muscles shaking as she tried to stand. She succeeded, but had to lean, "I've... I've got this. Let's go."

Jacob just studied her for a minute, deciding whether or not to give her back her weapon. Or at least... mostly. From time to time, he couldn't help but admire how the setting sun's light framed her face. "I think that's enough. You passed anything I've seen from her brother three hours ago, and he's way better than her. Even if he's still a total rookie," his tone was flippant, but the way he considered her showed he took her willpower seriously.

But it wasn't enough. She nearly fell over with a firm head shake. "No way. You're your father's son, but I'm my grandfather's granddaughter, and I can't leave this to chance. She thinks she can win just because I haven't used a blade like this before, and with anyone else she might be right. But I'm... not..." she said, trailing off as his expression changed again to a serious one once more and he handed her the training weapon.

"Watch your footwork. You've been slipping. And remember that quick snaps are good for speed, but predictable. You have to be deliberate when you're choosing that or slower, smooth movement. She's mean and tricky, but doesn't have much endurance. Play the defense for a while and she'll tire out. Keep your composure and work on your banter, and she'll be screwing up in no time at all." Grasping the offered handle, she nodded sternly, legs shaking. "And most important, one thing you've got a big edge on... you're fighting for something. Remember what that is when you can't stand to move and she doesn't stand a chance."