The students are tense. I can’t blame them. This has been a week of horrors but this is the last day before Restday and Saintsday. As such, an unspoken expectation hangs in the air.

That this will be the worst day yet.

Kierra stands in front of us, basking in it. Her helpers have multiplied, the two foundation students joined by six others who stand at attention behind her back. “Well, we’ve had a fun few days together.” She paces in front of the crowd, meeting the eyes of each student. “I’ve tested your speed, your endurance, your strength, and your flexibility. Now there’s one final test. Prowess. I’ve a good idea of your backgrounds. Rejoice. For most of you, your limit is simply practicing forms.”

“Why do we need to learn how to fight?” someone shouts. “We’re trying to be casters, not spellswords.”

“You’re right. Strong casters don’t need hand to hand combat. But answer me this.” She stops and raises her voice. “Are any of you strong casters? Could you fight off a common thief with your magic right now? If you think you can, let’s see it.”

She gestures to group behind her. “The six who’ve agreed to help today are foundation acolytes, your seniors. Beginners but more than enough to handle a common assailant. If any of you can beat one of them, you’re exempt from today’s lesson. Any takers? Oh, and I won’t heal you if you lose. A gamble has to have some risks, after all.”

There’s a general mumbling through the initiates. I see a few disgruntled people who look like they think they could win but hold back. After all, she said she wasn’t going to heal them if they lose. No one’s willing to risk the pain of broken bones, huh?

“I’ll do it.”

Why am I not surprised? Alana steps forward, face stoic as she stares down her possible opponents. “I accept the challenge.”

“Oh, ho. Anyone want to take this up?” The fighters have a quick discussion before a wiry boy steps forward. “Alana, I’ll give you the choice. Barehand or blade?”

“Blade,” she says immediately.

I grab her by the arm, leaning in to whisper, “Hey, are you sure about this? They look like they can fight and if I know our teacher, she isn’t the type to see to someone’s safety.” What can I say? I don’t want to see her hurt.

“Mm. Relax.” Her smile is confident. Dare I say cocky? Coming from the stoic girl, it is extra potent in charm. “A fight is the one thing I’m not afraid of.” She gives me a friendly slap to the shoulder before walking forward.

Wow. I feel like the maiden who gets left behind while the hero goes off to slay a dragon. If this were me before marriage or if I could allow myself to be a bit more dramatic, I’d swoon. Too bad her opponent is a boy around my age in flimsy looking armor. She’s still awesome but the situation lacks gravitas.

Nevertheless, I’m excited as Alana borrows a sword from one of the other acolytes, giving it a few practice swings before nodding in approval. Kierra gives them space, waving for everyone to step back. We form a loose circle; the initiates on one side, the foundation acolytes on the other, and Kierra between the two fighters.

“The rules. There are none.” She grins. “I don’t know what kind of nonsense these knight orders and chivalrous warriors might have instilled in you but battles have no rules. Only winners and losers. If you go down, you lose. Try not to kill each other. Alright? Get ready.”

None one is phased by my wife’s antics by now. The two fighters don’t even flinch, readying themselves for the match.

I know next to nothing about swordsmanship but Alana’s stance seems strange. She is slightly turned to the side with her sword pointed away from her, the hilt at her waist with the blade tilted upwards. Her free hand hovers over the blade halfway down its length. One foot is pressed forward and she leans into it, angling her body toward her opponent.

The boy has a much more recognizable look, standing firmly with his sword held in front of him with both hands. “You’re supposed to point the pointy end at the enemy,” he jokes, getting a light laugh from his friends.

“You should be more concerned with yourself,” comes her calm reply.

“Tch. Don’t blame me if you get hurt.”

Silence falls over the field as the moment of engagement draws near. Kierra lets the tension drag out, confirming their resolves by their steady eyes before she steps back and shouts “Begin!”

If I didn’t train with someone who can move at the speed of shadows when she puts her mind to it, I don’t know if I could follow Alana’s charge. In a burst of speed, she eats up the distance between them, moving so low to the ground I’m amazed she doesn’t fall over.

Her opponent proves himself worthy of his position at the Grand Hall as he tracks her. His body stiffens as he prepares to counter. As she nears striking range, raising her body to prepare for an attack, he changes his grip and prepares for a horizontal swing.

The moment before they would have clashed, the field is lit by a brilliant flash of light.

The crowd lets out a collective exclamation as we’re blinded. My eyes snap shut, tears welling in the corners as colorful circles dance behind my eyelids.

It takes several moments before I risk opening them again, letting in the world little by little. My jaw drops when I take in the scene before me.

Alana is standing tall with her sword pointed at the ground, a small smile on her lips. A trace of blood clings to the tip. Her opponent is on his knees, sword lying in the grass beside him, features contorted in pain. His hands are bloody where they are pressed against his abdomen. Knew that armor looked shoddy. Or maybe Alana is just that good?

“Oh, that wasn’t bad at all.” Kierra walks over to the acolyte and lays a hand on his head. “Your stance puts your sword behind you so the reflected light doesn’t blind you. The flash either disorientates your opponent or forces them to shut their eyes, either way creating an opening. You’ve got some potential.”

She removes her hand and he is fully healed. Alana puts out a hand and helps him up. Seeing him back on his feet and rosy with embarrassment, a few of the initiates let out subdued cheers. I join them, rather proud. Alana is the real deal, chivalry and all. I would have left him in the dirt, no doubt about it. I’ve raised my opinion of you.

Apparently, so have the acolytes as they step forward to offer congratulations. My friend looks right at home amongst the future knights.

Kierra claps, gaining everyone’s attention. “A good match. As agreed, Alana can rest for the rest of the class. Is there anyone else who wants to try their luck?”

A somber mood settles over the class. While it was brief, Alana showed speed and strength I know most of these initiates can’t compare to. For those who can, the thought of getting their gut opened and not getting healed must be keeping their mouths shut.

I could do it. For one, I’d be fighting bare-handed. I’m willing to bet, being future knights and all, they aren’t as accomplished in brawling. Besides that, I’d have no problem keeping up with Kierra’s speed. Most importantly, I’d play dirty. These baby knights wouldn’t stand a chance.

But I know better than to step forward. My wife has been shooting me discreet looks this entire time. She has a plan for me.

“My helpers are going to break you into groups and supervise you. I expect you to listen to them like I’m giving the orders. Otherwise, I can have you do something else I doubt you’ll enjoy. Lou.”

I sigh as she waves me over. Here we go.

I jog over to her while the acolytes organize the rest of the class behind me. “I suppose I’ll be getting special treatment again, Teacher?”

“Well, you know you’re my favorite.” She cracks her knuckles and starts stretching. “Come at me whenever you’re ready.”

“Don’t tell me…I have to fight you?”

“These baby knights are hardly enough of a challenge.”

Heh. That’s exactly what I called them. “And the chances you’ll go easy on me are…”

“Zero. But don’t worry. You, I’m going to heal.”