The Elder Lands

Lucan climbed the walkway to the keep behind his father; Thomas and one of the men-at-arms following behind them, the rest having gone to attend to their duties.

Once they got through the gate of the upper palisade, his father stopped in the courtyard.

Lucan waited as his father turned around and surprisingly drew his sword. There was no anger in his features or his posture, so Lucan calmed himself. “You might as well gain the least of your skills now.”

Ah. His father meant to have him gain the Swordsmanship skill. Some passive skills like it could be learned through training and practice, not all however. Some of the more profound passive skills had to be learned through costly methods. The most prominent of which was a bestowal by those with enough experience in it, which was rare since they had limited bestowals to give; or a God’s Orb that carried the particular skill you wanted, which could be even rarer depending on the skill. The same applied to active skills, even though they differed in the methods necessary to level them up.

Lucan had been trained in the sword since he could walk. It was one of the few things he hadn’t been allowed to avoid in favor of reading books, and now it was supposed to pay off. He noted that Thomas wasn’t staying for the bout and instead was going into the keep. But Cordell, their oldest man-at-arms, fetched him a steel sword to meet his father with. Lucan accepted it, tightening and loosening his grip on the hilt to familiarize himself with it.

Sir Golan Zesh stood in front of him, his longsword reflecting a yellow sheen of gold, but with savage texture and menacing runes engraved into its length. It was a family heirloom made from goldsteel; as hard as forged steel and as enchantable as gold. This one was enchanted with Durability which made it much, much harder than steel, and it was engraved with another enchantment that provided an ability that Lucan had never seen his father use. Apparently, it sapped the enchantment of some of its power every time it was used, and empowering it again would be costly.

Lucan’s own sword felt lacking in his hands. It didn’t matter much since his father wouldn’t be pressing him hard enough for the differences between the swords to show themselves, not that a sword would have been the reason his father could win. This would hopefully be a brief bout with the simple purpose of gaining the skill.

Lucan circled his father who stood rooted to the ground like a hardwood tree. He stepped in for a probing slash from the right. They weren’t wearing armor, which would make a real strike dangerous, but he had no illusions about being able to hit his father. As expected, his father parried his slash easily and his stance lowered, his knees bending and his posture ready for a lunge. Lucan quickly hopped backwards to make space, keeping his sword in front of him and his eyes alert.

His father didn’t attack. So Lucan circled again. This time, his father circled him as well. Lucan grew impatient and feinted a slash to the left then quickly weaved his sword up, turning it into a chop. His father’s sword mirrored his as he feinted, which initially gave him hope, but it didn’t commit to a side block, continuing to follow his sword upwards and meeting it with its width. His father stepped to the right as he blocked his high chop, making the path of Lucan’s sword empty even if he managed to force his way through, which he couldn’t. So Lucan retracted his sword quickly before his father could slip his goldsteel blade out of its path which would use Lucan’s weight against him and force him to stumble forward.

Lucan realized that he had grown a false sense of safety from not being attacked when his father surprised him with a fast slash from the right. The shrunken distance between them made it difficult to execute a proper parry so Lucan barely managed to catch the golden blade on the strong of his sword. He was already imbalanced, so instead of trying to push back against it, he leaped backwards. Or rather that was what he’d hoped to do, but he ended up half-leaping half-stumbling and nearly meeting the ground with his back.

His father pressed the attack, sliding forward with an uppercut that he pulled back in before it could meet Lucan’s defending sword, turning it into a quick center thrust instead. Lucan had to take a side step, barely evading the tip of his father’s sword and beginning to wonder if he was wrong about how easy he would be on him. No, if his father wanted to overpower him, his Physique alone would have been enough to break his guard during his first strike. He was simply pressuring him to get the best out of this.

Lucan created space between them again by taking hasty steps backwards, and his father consumed that space in moments, stepping forward and delivering a diagonal slash. This time Lucan was balanced. He met the slash with a solid parry and countered with a riposte towards his father’s shoulder. His father slid backwards, infuriatingly staying a finger’s width ahead of the tip of his sword. But the backward movement returned the initiative back to Lucan as he lunged forward, following the riposte with a high side slash towards the head. His father pulled his sword closer and parried it easily. Lucan’s next thought was to–

You have learned Swordsmanship. Consolidate?

The words appeared in his vision and he rejoiced, accepting the offer, but he soon panicked, looking past the words, expecting a counterstrike to be coming his way. Thankfully, there was no sword coming for his face. His father had relaxed his posture, obviously having noticed the far look in Lucan’s eyes.

“Well?” his father said. “Is it Journeyman?”

Lucan called up his Elder Power.

Race: Human

Level: 1

Vital Orbs: 1

Mind and Body

Physique: Basic 0/1

Spirit: Basic 0/1

Skills (2) 0/100

(Passive) Swordsmanship lv19: Apprentice

He shook his head apologetically at his father. “Level nineteen, father. Apprentice.”

His father didn’t look disappointed this time. “It’s near enough to what was expected, I suppose. Don’t let off your training.” He turned around meeting Thomas who’d come back from the keep with a wrapped bundle of cloth. He unwrapped it to reveal a sword in an intricate leather sheath. He presented it to Lucan, hilt first. “Draw it.”

Lucan did as he was told, drawing the sword. It was made of bronze, which was normally a bit weaker than steel. But its constituents were enchantable unlike the dead metal that was iron. And indeed, his father had had this one enchanted for him. Lucan could easily guess what enchantment it was, even if he understood nothing of the runes tracing lines on its flat sides. It was Durability. This would make it keep an edge better than steel, and it could also endure perhaps twice as much punishment.

“A gift I prepared for you,” his father said, favoring him with a rare smile. “I intended for you to be a Journeyman when you received it, but with only two levels difference, you might as well be there.”

Lucan received the sheath next and replaced the sword in it reverently. “Thank you, father.” He dipped his head.

His father nodded back. “Come.” He turned around and began walking towards the keep. “We have much to discuss.”

Lucan trotted to catch up and walked a step behind his father. “Won’t you teach me Wraith Strike yet, father?” The skill was what had allowed his father and his grandfather before him to use the sword as a weapon of war. When it mattered, it could be as deadly as any of the heavier weapons. His father was an Expert in the skill, which allowed him to bestow it upon another only once.

His father didn’t look back, walking into their small keep. “Not yet. You will need a bit of training before you can use it properly, and there are other things you must learn today.”

Lucan nodded obediently, even if it could not be seen by his father. He knew where they were going. His father’s study, where he managed and looked over their demesne.