The weapons were well made, even someone like me, who doesn’t know much about things like weapons could say that. Their surface was smooth at the touch, their forms simple yet beautiful, their weight perfect in the hands. They were weapons made of wood sure, but still good weapons, and they were mine to choose one.

It was a tough decision I’ll not lie, and it took me a few minutes of silent indecision before I choose de sword of the so many others. The reason was that everyone has once brandished a stick as a sword or made a swing imagining yourself brandishing one and I’m no exception, so it was the weapon that I was more comfortable with and thus, my choice.

Again, not that it was an easy one.

I got quite tempted by the spear and its extra range; the mercenaries also said that it would be the easier and faster to learn to some extent… but it didn’t felt right, even the thought of using it felt strange, the wooden blade too true in my hands to chose anything aside it. And so I did, even if the bigger range was a little more appealing that I would like it to, it was simply not enough to change my mind.

And it still doesn’t, I can say for sure as here I am looking at my opponent’s weapon, a bigger spear than the one that me was offered and still thinking that I made the right choice.

What brings me back to the reason that I got to a weapon choose in the first place, today is the first day of armed practice and one was needed so I could, well, practice. An offer that I’ve accepted gladly as knowing how to use a weapon is a good status to have pretty much everywhere.

Learning how to, unfortunately, means that you have to do a lot of fighting and my teacher, being a two meters tall bear of a man that carries a spear even bigger than himself does not look inviting at all as my sword, although a beautiful piece of dark red wood, will hardly make me a better fighter by being pretty.

To be honest, I’ve been thinking about all this for a while… that if we fight I’ll just got hit before getting close enough to land a single strike at every try, what is pretty much the reason that I’ve been standing here for minutes already.

Also unfortunately, staying still like that gets me going back to all the scenes that I’ve been trying to not think about, all the dire situations and how I was impotent to fight back, and all the fear and despair that I’ve felt while I had no say at all in my own life, and of course, all the regret that came with it.

I’ve been trying to not think about it, to ignore them, but this time, this time the thoughts simply refuse to go away, burned alive against the back of my eyes and there to see every time I close them. My dream of being a practitioner proving itself to be harder and harder every time I try to move in its direction.

I know that it’s not so bad, I’ve almost died like twice but still, I’ve found that most of the mercenaries are nice people, people that are willing to accept me like one of their own without asking for any kind of compensation, but no matter how many times I say that to myself I can’t seem to believe in my own words.

I also know that after everything that happened I should be extremely eager to start my training and “break the shackles of destiny”, to get control of my own life, I used to think like that but now I can’t help but fear it all the same. I know that I still want it, all of it, the power, the freedom and everything, but I really want everything that comes with it?

All of that about trading an old life for a new one, it all seemed so nice at the first time that I head, trading a life of serving for one of power, not that bad of a trade. But it is really that literal? All of those men have huge scars, some have ears or fingers missing, will I have the power to bear the prices of the power itself?

The other option, running for really far place and never looking back? After a few years they would forget about a ran way slave for sure, maybe I could even change my appearance a little, find a remote place to cultivate some grains and live a calm and simple life of honest work.

But is there a place like that, or even, is okay to me think about running away? To be powerless to ever fight back against my problems? To forget my promises made? To let my people suffer while I hide? No, not after the chances they gave me.

It keeps me going after every time I wave, their faces, their voices. Their screams, their crying. If the fear is burnt in my eyes than theirs screams scorched directly into my very being, never to be forget.

And that’s why I must not keep going, no matter what costs.

“Ready” – My voice cuts the long silence, going heavy with resolve and will.

“Glad you are, thought that you’d mistake this for a stare concourse” – He answers, a casual sarcasm in his voice while taking the spear of his back into a single handed grip to his side.

I ready myself and start a slow walk in his direction, mirroring the single handed grip with my own as I considere what should I do, or better, what should I not. First, no crazy running attacks or things like that, I’m not faster than him, nor I’m a better a fighter or have the longer weapon. Second and most important, I can’t make a fool of myself, the last hing I want is to leave them thinking myself to bothersome to train.

As I make my way closer there are a few things that could give me the victory that pass through my mind, all of them being some kind of dirty trick of some sort that hold no meaning in a practice and would do little to make me a better fighter. I hardly thing that winning by doing things like throwing dirty in the opponents eyes or going for his crotch would bring put me in good lights anyway, chance is that they would kill me for tainting their faces.

Although they do not help, some are truly good so I keep them for later. Who knows, maybe they’ll come in hand eventually.

“You a snail boy? What are you waiting for?” He says in a low shout, bringing me back from the not so noble thoughts while urging me to walk a little faster, what I do, soon cutting the distance of ten or so meters with hurry. The only thing worse than showing myself too bothersome to teach would be showing me too afraid to learn, the mercenaries made a notably little effort to hide their disgust towards Eagan when I told them that I came to find them because of the scream, and following laughs.

When I judge that I’m almost in his range I stop, what is something about three meters far, not that I’m safe but at this distance he’ll need a huge trust to hit me, and huge movements are slow. I choose to ignore the “Are they slow enough?” question in my mind as I have not leisure to concentrate in other things.

I could try to come closer but a quick glance to the mercenaries chief eyes tells me that doing so would be a mistake, so I focus on his shoulders and arms, waiting for the attack that I know will eventually come, the plan to parry and strike, using the precious seconds brought to maybe hit something important.

It’s the best plan that I can think of.

But things rarely goes according to plans. The world goes crazy for a second, the sky and ground trading places as I see myself lost, taking me a few seconds and a heavy fall so to understand what happened, i got taken down.

Soon as I understand I try to move, to get up and back to position but with a slow thud the lance stop gently in my chest, marking the end of the round and my death. I look up, looking for some kind of disappointment or even satisfaction and find none. The blank face telling me little of his thoughts.

“One death for you and two points for me kiddo, now get up and prepare for another round, I have bet with Brod that I could get hundred before lunch” – I take the hand that he extended, lighter, knowing that my failure did not cause any anger.

According to the rules the round ends when one is “dead” or “disabled”, killing someone gives 2 points while disabling gives one, there quite a good thinking behind those rules actually, to kill someone is harder, having to hit either head or heart, so it gives more points as to disable which is easier, give less points.

I’m not quite sure if he deserved that two points though, the first hit “cut” my legs already so the round was lost before he could kill me. Normally I would not care for such little things as I give no value to face or so, but I also have a bet to win this time. Even if said bet was pretty much forced into me, apparently by the same person that bet with the chief of the mercenaries.

I can’t really see the reason that he did it, and I don’t know much about his personality to be sure that there is one, I’ve seen people bet only for the sake of betting before and that sure would explain the unbalanced odds. If I win I would be given whatever item I chose from the entire camp, no exceptions, if I lose I would be owning him one. Simply a too big of a prize for such low price .

Still, even if I don’t know his reasons I still want to win, both because I’m already in the situation and wining is the best way out and because I really want a lot of things that they have. Even if they go back on their words I should still be able to ask for something like the sleeping bag, finally owning my own place to sleep would not be that bad of a start.

But that’s a talking for after, and if, I win, thing that I do not believe myself able to.

My legs don’t even hurt, meaning that he had time to slow down the tip so to not hurt me, meaning, that I couldn’t even see the hit when he was holding it back. I could understand if I was looking to the spear itself as it is harder to keep track of, but I was looking his arms and hands, even if a could not react in time I should at least be able to see some movement. But i didn’t.

He’s faster, stronger and a better fighter to the point that is scary, but so what? I knew all of that already.

I brush the dust of, grab my sword with resolve and start running.

If I’ll fall either way, better try using my body as a Battering ram while at it, who knows, maybe I’ll break a bone and get him unable to score more points, at least he’ll not win.

Wait, is that any better? What they’ll think if I truly win like that? Well, no way to know. I’ll just think while it goes, a hundred is pretty far anyway.

Even more if he stops cheating.