The wooden swords met with an audible thump. The impact reverberated through John’s arms as Rody almost managed to knock the sword out of his hands on the first strike.

The larger man followed up with a kick to John’s cuirass. The armor stopped the blow, but the impact knocked him back and his feet skidded to a stop.

Rody followed up with a downward swing aimed at John’s helmet.

John could’ve easily sidestepped the attack if he weren’t off-balance. With no other option, he struck at the incoming sword close to the hilt. He barely managed to deflect the attack, but the impact knocked the sword out from his hands.

Needing to improvise, he extended both arms and locked his fingers behind Rody's helmet so that he could pull it into a headbutt.

The two helmets hit against one another, and John’s brain rattled in his skull. He could only hope that Rody had it even worse.

He didn’t.

Rody struck against John’s legs, knocking him to the ground.

Marleya appeared the next instant, standing over him. “And you’re done. On the bright side, you seem to be improving.” She bent down, grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him to his feet as if he weighed nothing.

John removed his helmet and took note of the damage. The regular steel helmet now had a large dent around the forehead due to the impact. “I thought that would work,” he said, evoking a snort and a laugh from Marleya and Rody respectively.

While John looked confused, Rody removed his similarly dented helmet to reveal a padded coif underneath.

“It could’ve gone better if you had worn one of those,” Marleya told her squire before flicking a coin at Rody, who hastily caught it mid-air. “You won, so there's your reward.”

After she promised a gold coin to any Fighter who managed to beat her new squire, this became a sort of common occurrence. Well, maybe not exactly common considering that John won much more often than not, but it still happened once in a while.

Rody saluted by placing a fist over his heart. “Thank you, Dame.” With that, he walked away from the dueling ring, a large smile plastered on his face after receiving the equivalent to two weeks of salary.

“You better not have too much fun though,” she yelled at his retreating figure. “I want you back here on the morrow and in top condition, meaning sober.”

The gold encouraged Fighters to step forth and serve as sparring partners. Even if John lost ten times a day, it would barely make a dent on Marleya’s funds. The Knight’s purchases were all done using platinum coins, with gold only amounting to loose change.

She also made sure that John wouldn’t go too hard on the opponents. The idea was to attract new opponents, not scare them away.

“Not a bad effort,” she told John after Rody left. “Your sword still isn’t as fast as it could be though, and you need to get used to holding the longsword with both hands.”

He had to agree with her assessment as he still felt more comfortable with the short swords. Hopefully, he’d be able to improve with time and additional training. “One more time then?” he asked.

“Tomorrow. Lady Athalia will be having a meeting soon and she requested my presence.”

This would be the fourth such meeting in the same week. From John’s first day in Rochdale, these meetings were already frequent. Most of the nobles from back then had already left, now in their place another group of either direct or indirect vassals.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that something big was happening, likely a war. Some of the guards whispered about it, of a coming war against Knight’s Crossing, but no one knew exactly when it would start.

Hoping for some answers, John finally decided to ask Marleya about it.

“Yes,” she told him straight away. “The matter is practically decided by this point in time. The earl and lady are working on the details and logistics while waiting for the opportune time.”

“And then Hagen will declare war?”

“Not exactly. If he did so, he’d be viewed as the aggressor in this conflict. Rather, he is waiting for Vasilis to mass up enough forces to pose a serious threat to earl Skanler. When that happens, the Earl will declare his support for the foreigner’s rebellion.”

Marleya’s words barely registered after she mentioned the name. John’s mind flashed back to the frail-looking Paladin who came to their home and caused his mother’s death. His body lay beside the tree that Dene flung him against, missing an arm and with two holes on one leg. John didn’t see the point in trying to hide any of the bodies and being pressed for time, he simply left them there to rot.

“I didn’t think of that,” he spoke, trying his best to sound normal and hoping that his voice didn’t falter. “So I take that this Vasilis is another noble, then? Maybe I’ve seen him around the castle.”

“He’s not, and that’s unlikely. If you saw him you’d know. Vasilis never quite recovered after Rass Skanler removed his manhood. The man is practically just skin and bones.” She looked at John. “Why the question though?”

He shrugged. “Just curious. If we’re going to war because of this guy, then I feel like I should know more about him.”

Marleya promptly scoffed at his words. “We are not going to war. You’re still just a Fighter and should be worrying about improving your cultivation, understand?”

“Understood. I’ll do just that then and start preparing for my magic lessons.” He turned to leave when Marleya grasped him by the shoulder. John’s heart skipped a beat. Did she suspect anything?

In another demonstration of her strength, she turned him around to face her and stared him dead in the eye. “What did I tell you about keeping the equipment organized?”

It took him a moment to realize what she meant. “Of course, I must have forgotten.” He gave his best smile and bent down to pick up the wooden sword. After putting it back at the rack, he walked down the training grounds towards the castle.

‘Breath in, breath out,’ John thought to himself as he walked into the castle and traversed its hallways. He climbed up the flights of stairs, walked down another hallway, and came to his bedroom. Locking the door behind himself, he then proceeded to drop down on a chair.

“Shit,” he muttered. His first instinct was to run and get as far away from Rochdale as possible. That thought quickly died out as he thought more about it. Vasilis was dead, that was just a fact. He didn’t know what this would do to Hagen’s plans of war, but that didn’t concern John.

The only thing that mattered to him was that Vasilis was dead, as well as the men he took to their home. None of them would be able to identify John. And why did he even need to worry about being identified? He was days away from Greenflower, living in the same castle as an earl. Who would think to look for him there?

He still couldn't completely calm down, but there was nothing that could be done about it. For the rest of his time living in the castle, he'd have to get used to this stress. With that in mind, he slipped off the armor and headed into the tub to wash off the sweat from his body.