The meeting continues for half an hour more, then each heads off to check up on the other Engineers and contacts of a more nefarious nature. Gunnar points himself towards the Docks to talk to the new boss of the Dock Boys, Jimmy. Stillwater and WayWocket leave for the Craftsmen Sector to hit up Sadzi Van Dutual and Peregrine Young for superior knowledge about this new alloy. Lone has the morning off, so he makes for the baths for his appointment with Kilroy, where Pela will meet him after the noon bell.

As Lone hits the northern part of Lake Merrin, he gains a few looks from the minor nobility and merchants. They’ve heard talk of a half-breed who saved the Duke, and to most descriptions, Lone fits that mould. Disliking the eyes and whispers, Lone ducks down an alleyway and finds the back entrance to the Mature Tulip. Waiting at the back is the same bouncer that guarded the front on his first trip to the Baths.

Waving hello and receiving a nod in reply, Lone approaches the overly large man in the tailored suit. “Hello, Dave. Just here for Kilroy’s lesson.”

A grin splits his face. “Looking to have your arse kicked again, hey Lone?”

“Ha de ha. I gave as good as I got last time.”

“I totally believe you. Every time I’ve walked past, your arse has been on the mat!” Dave laughs.

Shaking his head, Lone badly quips back, “At least, um, I am good, yeah!” With that, the Bouncer laughs, and his belly jiggles. “By Jara’s Hammer,” Lone continues, “I will rip you a new one!”

“Sure, sure.” Dave maintains a deadly serious face, but his eyes are alight with humour as he opens the door. “Head on in, and I’ll check on how you’re going later.”

“Care to go to first blood?” Damn right, Lone thinks, not caring to be mocked by Dave.

Dave’s face loses a little colour. “Um, I’m good.”

As I suspected, Lone thinks. “Thanks, see you later then.”

Chuckling to himself, Lone moves into the humidity of the Bath House. Nobles and wealthy Merchants swim in the large central pool, while more than a few lounge in steam baths. Servants in loose linen are running around making sure the guests have what they need. For the most part, they are male, as on the surface the Mature Tulip is a proper sort of place. But for the right price, a private room and female attendee can be made available.

Undoubtedly, Lone cannot afford that. Moving to the back of the pool area and through a large archway, he comes to a sizeable open compound with padded mats and benches around the edge. The smell of the lake wafts into this airy space. In the middle of the area is Kilroy, dressed in tight tan clothing and stretching with a sword that Lone is unfamiliar with. It appears to be a double-edged straight sword, as wide and long as his longsword but with a basket handle like a rapier.

Kilroy seems to be doing a dance. His steps his left foot forward, then slashes the sword diagonally, moving back to pull into a high guard. With a twist of his wrist, he steps forward with another slash.

“Morning, Kilroy,” Lone calls out, disrupting the step-swish routine. “May I ask what type of sword that is?”

Breathing in and out with his eyes closed, Kilroy gathers his energy, then opens his fierce eyes. Lone steps back feeling like there is a sleeping beast behind Kilroy’s still form.

Kilroy then replies, “Simple. It is a Western Broadsword, mainly used by high-level masters, but I think you would have the reflexes and ability to learn to use it.”

“Okay, I am willing to try.”

Kil walks over and hands him the sword. Solo is surprised at the balance and even the basket itself. It encases his hand, yet there is enough room for a flexible wrist to do many things.

Lone eyeballs Kilroy. “So, will I be doing that sword dance?”

“Yes, that will be one of your practice patterns, but you need one more thing: a sparring partner.”

“So, what do I have to do?” He tries to stand like Kilroy, sword in hand, the other hand behind his back and his right foot forward. “How is this?”

Kilroy suddenly moves and pushes hard on Solo’s side, which in turn completely unbalances him, and he stumbles to the ground. “You are not balancing properly. Make sure that your right is straight, the left at a right angle to your lead foot, then turn your torso more forward, not completely side on.”

Moving his feet, Lone shifts his balance. Kilroy wanders around, nodding his approval. “Next take your right foot about half a metre forward, but shift your weight back to your left foot.”

Lone does what he’s told, wondering when he’ll be learning to use the sword. He already knows how to move his feet! He tries to copy Kilroy’s stance, but loses his balance and falls over laughing.

“Concentrate, Solo. This could save your life in a proper duel.” Kilroy then continues with his instructions. “Now, this is the side step.” He drops back his front foot into a wide stance, then stands in front of Lone. “Now I will lunge towards you, and you choose the most suitable defence step. Then you will return the lunge, and I will defend.”

“Is this it for today? No sword training?”

“No, Solo. I have watched your footwork, and it is lacking. Once you become proficient with this, then we will move to step two.”

Groaning at this, Lone mutters under his breath, “I thought I was learning to fight not dance.”

Kilroy hears Lone but ignores his complaint. “Back to first position,” he directs.

Lone feels like he’s back in the army again, with his Sarge berating him for not polishing his boot to her standards. He continues to fool around a bit, tapping his foot while changing positions or twirling in the air like a ballerina.

Breathing out, Kilroy again says with gritted teeth. “First position.”

Lone stops. “How is this fighting?”

“Fine!” Kilroy picks up Lone’s sword and then grabs one of the broadswords. “Fight how you want, and I will only use first, second and third position.”

Great, real fighting at last. Lone preens, loosening up his arms and planting his feet in a brawler’s position, slightly apart but facing forward.

Sighing, Kilroy takes first position, his sword blade hanging down with the basket hilt high. Lone swings a side blow towards Kilroy’s head, who steps back, blocking Lone’s sword, then rolls his wrist stepping in, just stopping within a hair’s breadth of Lone’s head.

Realising this, Lone jumps back, and Kilroy slides forward and slices downwards towards Lone’s left shoulder. Lone brings his sword up to block, but Kilroy rolls his wrist again to pass under Lone’s guard and bite into his padded tunic, knocking the breath out of Lone.

Kilroy isn’t finished. He then smacks the flat of the blade on Lone’s knuckles, while another wrist turn knocks his right knee. Lone drops down with Kilroy’s edge at his throat.

In a quiet voice, Kilroy looks down at Lone. “You would have died three times by now. You think this is a game? Do you not value your life? If you answer yes to either one, then go and die on some long-forgotten field against another pointless enemy.”

With a nick on the cheek, Kilroy allows Lone to stand. “I am sorry, Master,” Lone replies, humbled. “Can we start again?”

With a grave look that reveals a man who has seen comrades dying in his arms, Kilroy nods. “Good, put away your sword. Patch that cut.” Lone scrambles to do it. As he returns to the mat, Kilroy continues, “Now, first position.”

As Lone moves to first position, Kilroy pledges, “I will not lose another student because they are not ready.”

Lone looks up at Kilroy. What does he mean by that?

But Kilroy doesn’t share the memories running through his mind. He has seen too much blood spilt on the northern tundra, fighting barbarians and horrors. His commanders never listened to him, yet if he’d had more time, the new recruits would have been near masters of the sword. All they wanted was him to head back and train more green boys to be sent to their deaths. Lone will not be another ‘green boy’, using that butcher style of fighting.

“Again, first position,” he yells.

This will be a long day, Lone thinks.