The Sword Saint Also Has A Succubus Class

They set up on opposite sides of the flat clearing to the right of Ganrik's blacksmithing shop, with a small crowd of spectators.

Ahead, Erik settled into a standard guard position, both hands gripping his larger sword and leveling it toward her. Vale tilted her head slightly, already noting the flaws in the stance, though they were minor, and it was clear just from the initial settling of his weight that he had been trained in some way. Not to a high level, of course, but trained nonetheless.

Vale settled into her own position, taking a relaxed, casual stance, blade held loosely in one hand. She steadied her breathing. She closed out everything that didn't matter. Her thoughts fell still like ripples clearing from a pond, until all that remained was a glass surface. The crowd still existed, but only as actors in this duel, unexpected variables that might interfere.

"Come," she said.

Erik was happy to. He surged forward, closing the distance with several quick steps then a lunge. Vale didn't have the spiritual core of a Saint any longer, so the boy's movement wasn't slow to her senses. A level two Bestowal was a large advantage compared to a mortal, she had pieced together, but not an insurmountable one.

But Vale had sparred against the Saint of Winter Frost, whose strength and speed had been insurmountable… and she had learned how to sneak small victories in against even him.

Despite clearly having believed Vale's description of her own skill, there was hesitance in Erik's movement, his body tensed in such a way he could pull the strike should he need to. They were, after all, strangers, and he didn't want to maim a woman he had just met.

She disabused him of the notion, her sword striking like a viper, and in a brief clang of steel, his weapon went flying sideways, wrenched from his grip. It landed in the grass several paces away.

She inclined her head. "Don't pull your strikes. It isn't necessary."

A murmur went through the crowd, but it was just noise. Her mind had entered that cold and placid place reserved for the baring of weapons.

Erik hurried over to grab his blade, sending what could only be described as an amazed look over his shoulder, which also filtered right past her. Her own expression didn't shift an inch.

His second attack was far less reserved. He came at her in a flurry of practiced blows. Practiced, but clumsy and predictable. Though there was little that didn't seem clumsy to a woman taught by one of the most talented swordsmen in the world. It wasn't a condemnation: she understood what it was to want to be great, but lack the resources to become so. She had only been taken in by Master Northstar on her fifteenth year, after all.

She let him keep up the assault, not returning her own strikes, though she could tell by his wary eyes he was ready for retaliation. She deflected each, or sidestepped, with little issue. He became increasingly confident as they went, not because he thought he could win, but because he became more and more aware that he didn't need to be careful: she wouldn't be hurt by any trick he pulled.

She offered openings as they went, a test of skill. The most obvious he claimed, but the rest he missed. Again, she didn't condemn him for this. He was a farmer's son who had lofty ambitions and little formal training. In fact, she was impressed by his skills, meager as they were, considering his background.

Vale's eyebrows rose the smallest amount as he managed a clever feint, her sword twitching just the slightest amount in the wrong direction before she saw through his intent—one of those 'tiny victories' she would have claimed for herself against Master Northstar. He had talent too, then, she admitted. Perhaps earning a Bestowal wasn't a fanciful dream after all.

Of course, it was just a bare twitch, a tenth of a second deceived, and so she blocked the attack easily.

Then she went on the offensive.

If she had wanted, the fight would have ended in one blow, but now she was genuinely interested in testing the young man.

His defense was better than his offense. With some amusement, Vale mused that she'd been the same way when starting out, because surviving Master Northstar's flurries had forced her to be. This boy had trained with a soldier from a nearby city, Suzi had told her, which was probably where the parallel stemmed.

She rained blow after blow down on him, not leaving a half-second for him to retaliate, and to his credit, he weathered the storm. She needed to pull several of her attacks to prevent injury, but nonetheless: he was adequate, for his background.

She turned the heat up. He retreated, the crowd making space as he backpedaled to buy fractions of a second. She wanted to see what would happen when the panic set in, and for all both of them knew it was a spar, a friendly match, the deeper mind often didn't recognize that fact itself; with a sharp blade dancing closer and closer to his chest and stomach, Erik grew flustered—but kept his composure. Another mark for him. Truly, she had seen more than she expected, even if he were no master, or even true disciple, of the sword.

Satisfied, Vale lashed out and yanked Erik's sword out of his hands for the second time, as she had at the start, sending it sailing up into the air.

And then, lacking a blade, Erik tackled her.

It was the first move that truly surprised her, and she was very much appreciative of the maneuver. She was pretty sure she'd tried some similarly desperate tactic the first time Master Northstar had disarmed her.

Of course, even surprised, she reacted.

She stepped sideways and grabbed the boy's shirt and hurled him along his path, his momentum suddenly too high to control. He careened forward and crashed into the ground, though with his arms out to catch himself. Perhaps his elbows would be bruised, but she didn't think that violated the spirit of her promise to Daniel.

To finish the fight, she snatched out to grab Erik's blade as it was falling, wrapping her fingers around the weight of the heavy two-handed sword. She steadied it, then flipped it hilt-over-tip, grabbing it by the flat of the blade to proffer it to Erik—who had scrambled to his feet and faced her. He stared dumbfounded at his own weapon being handed back to him, hilt-first, before he could even find his feet.

"You're better than I expected," Vale said. "Truly. I expect you'll find your own Bestowal, soon enough."

He gaped at her for a moment, then reached out and took his weapon. She nodded approvingly and sheathed her own. The demonstration was, she hoped, enough to set Ganrik's mind at ease that he wasn't lending an expensive blade to a stranger: she really was a swordswoman, and wished to use the weapon to aid the town in their monster problem.

Finally, the world came back into focus, Vale deliberately leaving that icy-cold state of focus that Master Northstar had taught her.

And so she became aware of the crowd. Their expressions. Wide eyes, slightly ajar mouths, looks of disbelief—and a few gleefully cheering children, who were more willing to voice their amazement. Soon, even the adults had burst into cheering.

Vale started sweating. This part, she hated the most. The aftermath.

She wasn't even good.

She hadn't been skilled enough when her village had been destroyed and her parents killed, nor when her Master's secluded home had been assaulted and his life taken as well. She wasn't skilled, not in the way she wished to be, not in the way that mattered: enough to stop those who came for her loved ones.

She shifted in place, deeply uncomfortable, unsure how to handle herself as the various townsfolk of Silverdale hollered and clapped. It ought to be a light and merry moment, and Vale inclined her head bashfully in thanks, but she quickly retreated—to the side of a short blonde woman with green eyes, whose head was slightly tilted, her grin starting to dim. Maybe sensing something the others didn't.

"Wow," Suzi said. "You're way worse than I thought!"

Vale blinked, her spiraling thoughts halted out of sheer surprise. That hadn't been what she'd expected the girl to say, because there'd been clear amazement on her face too.

"I mean, it took you ages to win," Suzi continued, her grin returning—and a part of Vale knew it was because she'd successfully poked her out of what might have become a bad mood. "After all that talk, I thought it would've lasted no more than a few seconds."

Vale's lips twitched. "Perhaps he's better than you assumed."

"Pfft. It's Erik we're talking about. I could turn him into a frog if I wanted."

"I am still but a disciple," Vale said solemnly. "Perhaps I can meet your expectations some day."

Erik came up to the two of them, seeming bashful if confident in his gangly-limbed way.

"You weren't kidding," he said. "I'm not sure if even Master Raimond could've knocked me around like that, not without relying on his stats—which you definitely didn't. I've gotta say, I'm curious how you're only level two, but I won't pry of course." Despite saying that, he did pause to give her the opportunity to fill him in, though he wasn't upset when she didn't. He continued, "How long are you planning on staying in Silverdale, by the way?"

"I'm unsure," Vale said.

"Well," he said. "Maybe you'll want to have another spar, if you're not busy?" He shrugged. "Or even just hang out? I can show you around town."

Vale blinked, and to her side, Suzi stiffened.

Then something even more surprising happened: the blonde girl stepped up to lean against Vale, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"She'll be busy," Suzi said sweetly. "A spar, maybe, though. Depends if she has the time."

Vale, blinking rapidly, instantly flustered by Suzi's proximity, looked between the two of them, confused.

"Yes," Vale said. "I will be busy, likely. But I'll let you know."

"Ah," Erik said, his eyes widening as he looked between the two girls. "Ah, right, of course. My bad."

His bad? His bad for what?

"Still," Erik said, a smile splitting his face. "That was amazing! I'd give anything for you to give me a few pointers, if you get the chance." His eyes flicked to Suzi. "You know, one swordsman to another."

Suzi pulled away, seeming embarrassed. She looked at Vale, and her cheeks went even redder. Vale's ears twitched, not understanding in the slightest what was going on.

"Up to her, of course," Suzi said.

"If I have the chance, I would love to," Vale said. "I also spent years without a proper Master. I understand the frustration that comes with not having adequate resources to pursue your passion." She smiled at him.

And then he blushed too, and Vale started to wonder if it was just a cultural thing. Then again, she blushed often as well, but she actually had reasons for it. So, again, she was just kinda confused by the whole interaction.

"Let me know," Erik said, nodding and retreating.

Vale blinked at him, then turned to Suzi and asked, "What was that?"

Suzi's cheeks went even redder. "What do you mean?" she said loudly. "Hey! I think Daniel wants to talk. Be right back."

She fled toward him, though Daniel hadn't even been looking her direction.

Vale stood there, ears twitching and tail swishing in confusion.

These people were so odd…