Undying Blood - Beta - Chapter 12 -

“He’s your father?!” Francis gasped, unable to hide his shock.

“Unfortunately,” replied Ginge. “My dear mother apparently has a soft spot for injured animals and old men missing teeth.  How was she to know he could still sire a child.”

“Bah! Your mother knew what she was getting into! It should be that you should feel sorry for,” Nehemiah exclaimed as he turned toward Francis. “She lured me to her place, got me drunk and then nine months later delivered this exceptionally large child in my arms.”

“Which you thankfully didn’t turn away. Imagine just another stain on your sordid reputation.”
Francis chuckled when a single spindly finger was held up at the younger man who grinned, showing a perfect set of teeth.

There’s no way those two can have the same bloodline… one’s almost toothless, bald and short… This Knight is like a specimen of what a warrior should look like.

“Don’t be angry when I ask this,” Francis said, trying to preface what came next, “but was your mother like over seven feet tall to make up for his height?”

Ginge roared with laughter as the older man scowled, wrinkles showing up everywhere on his face.

“Oh I like him! Come, grab a sword off that rack and let's see what you can do!”

Without waiting, he moved, excited as this is what he had been hoping for.

“I’m going to take a nap.  Someone came early this morning and ripped me from my bed, not even allowing me to put pants on!”

As the older man moved toward a bench, Francis shuddered as that shriveled up memory played through his mind.

Let’s see what I’ve got to go with.

[ Status ]

Francis Mudaburg

Age 17

Strength: 14

Endurance: 17

Agility: 13

Wisdom: 13

Perception: 11

Magic: 10

Skills

Swordsmanship - 19 Novice

Shield Use  - 17 Novice

Tracking - 11 Novice

Stealth - 8 Basic

Traps - 3 Basic

Rock Throwing - 5 Basic

Mental Resist - 18 Novice

Blood of the Undying - 99 Sage

Berserker Rage - 11 Novice

Wincing at the truth of how bad his stats were compared to what this young man must have, he took a deep breath after pulling a sword from a wooden barrel.

“Let’s get this going,” Ginge called out. “I’ve only got so long before I’m expected to be on the battlefield.”

Moving a little faster, Francis drew within about six feet and stopped, setting his feet.

“Now what?”

“You try to hit me. Don’t worry about me, I won’t do anything for a while. I just want to see what you can–”

Before the knight had finished his words, Francis moved, sword tip coming up as he thrust at the shirtless man.

A smile appeared on Ginge’s face, not seemingly concerned at all that he had technically done a sneak attack.  His bare hand came up, knocking the attack to the side, darting the other direction.

Francis tried everything, swinging, kicking, throwing a punch and even an elbow.

Every time he attacked it was deflected or parried with ease and yet those blue eyes never seemed to look anywhere but at his sword and body.  

Not once had the Knight met his gaze which almost upset him.

Minutes passed and he was surprised to find that he wasn’t winded as he had expected himself to be.  

“I… I think that’s everything I know.  All the combinations they taught me,” Francis said as he took a few steps back.  

“An eighteen or nineteen at best in the Swordsmanship skill.  Am I correct?”

“Uh… yeah… How did you know?”

“Lots of time training people.  You’re not that good honestly but I can see the technique behind the swings, and I can tell there is a limited ability in understanding the flow of battle.  Your use of the rest of your body was surprising at first but if what I heard is true, being a ninth son meant you probably had to fight dirty unlike most.”

“Correct on every account.  So now what?”

Ginge moved to the edge of the square, laying his sword down on a bench outside the markings, next to a shirt and jacket.  He then strode to a wooden barrel with wooden swords.

“I’m going to train you,” he replied as he made his way back. “It’s going to hurt but the good news is this square will heal you of most injuries faster than usual.  I’m not certain how high your Endurance is as fatigue is mitigated here as well.  I can make assumptions but I’d rather not be rude and tell you what I believe your Agility and Strength is. Now then, if you’re ready. I’m going to fight you as someone just a few points above your level should.  Are you ready?”

“No shield?” Francis asked, setting his feet and glancing at the rack with a few different shields.

“No,” replied the Knight with a grin.  “Swordsmanship isn’t just about a shield.  In fact a shield is great if you have one and it's not broken.  But what happens if you only learn to use a shield and never how to truly fight without one? Many warriors have died the day what they depended upon to protect them broke.”

I guess that makes a lot more sense… then why did Phillip never… Ohh…

“So they taught us with shields because it's easier to learn with one than without one. Correct?”

“Dad, he's smarter than I expected! Maybe he is a sage!”

Francis turned to see what Nehemiah might say or do, only to receive the flat blade of the Knights sword against his back.

“Never turn your back on me.”

Trying to touch the spot that stung, he turned and saw that the smile was gone, replaced with a frown.

“In this square we fight as if death is real. I’m not going to take it easy on you because one doesn’t grow that way.  I’ll brain you and let the square heal you before I pull a strike. Do you understand?”

Still wincing but not as bad, Francis nodded.

“Can I take my jacket and shirt off then? They are a little tight.”

“That I will allow,” Ginge replied, a small smile appearing as Francis backed up away from the Knight until he was out of the square.

Once both men were shirtless and a nod had been given, the younger one learned quickly just how little training he had received.

Every strike from Ginge carried not just a noticeable amount of strength but the power wasn’t just from the swing.  Four strikes had struck him, pushing past the sword he tried to parry with, as the weight of the man followed through with each attack.

Red marks appeared everywhere and yet the Knight never let up, delivering attack after attack, only occasionally having to parry before counter striking.

A foot came, tripping Francis when he got too close, sending him to the ground and the flat blade of the sword slapped against his chest, knocking the wind out from him.

“Stand up! Focus on your feet and stop trying to think and react!” yelled Ginge as he moved away, giving his downed opponent room.

“Sorry,” Francis muttered, starting to rise.

The movement of feet caught his attention, and he raised his sword, knowing a blow was coming because he had taken his eyes off the trainer.

The sound of metal against wood echoed in his ears, just a few inches above his skull.

“Good!”

This time, making sure he didn’t drop his gaze, Francis tried to do what he had been instructed to do.

Pain was a constant teacher and after another twenty minutes of it, the first notification came.

[ Swordsmanship Skill Increased - 20 Novice ]

As the notification vanished, Francis grinned and parried, attacking, watching as Ginge’s own smile appeared and he batted the sword away.

“Improvement! I like it!”

That short praise ended as a fist struck Francis’s jaw, sending him back a few steps and then the sword tip pressed against his sternum, bringing pain yet no breaking of skin.

Panting and grunting, he held his metal sword up, trying to breath through the pain, keeping his eyes the entire time on the Knight.

“Looks like you’re going to be worthy of this training,” Ginge said as he took a step back and lowered his sword. “Now then, go get a quick drink and a small amount of food. I don’t want you throwing up in here but I also want us to not have to worry about you passing out.”

Without waiting to be told again, Francis moved quickly to the table, savoring each bite as he ripped fresh bread apart and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Eat some fruit too! Stop eating just bread! Have a piece of meat you idiot!”

Obeying each order that came, the ninth child who had never had this amount of food within his reach went to work, consuming everything he could.

***

[ Swordsmanship Skill Increased - 26 Proficient ]

His strike moved faster and this time Ginge dodged for real, the metal edge of the sword missing skin by a few inches.

Once more the punch came and Francis blocked it with his other hand, kicking at the Knight and clipping his leg.

“Holy fuck! Your leg is like a rock!”

Laughter came from Ginge as he backed up a step and nodded, lowering the sword to his side.

“Yes… you might get there one day, but kicking me is a good way to break your toe if you wear those boots.  Now then, you just ranked up didn’t you?”

Nodding and grinning like an idiot, he felt like all this time he had used a sword had been wrong.  Every swing, thrust and swipe had been just an arm movement.  Now he understood the importance of one's stance, their hips and more.

“It’s… it’s like I suddenly know why I sucked so badly.  Tell me, how much harder is it to rank up from here?”

“The truth is forever,” Ginge replied. “In this box there is an enchantment that will allow me to help raise someone's skill to where you are rather quickly.  After that something like this is almost impossible to create without a master or grandmaster enchanter who is willing to invest the materials and time to construct such an item.  There are only two master enchanters that I know of and neither of them would be willing to waste their time on such a thing.”

“Because?”

Motioning to the table with food, Ginge led the way, smiling as Francis never took his gaze off him.

“Even then I doubt it would assist fast enough or propel one to the advanced rank. Now then eat and let’s talk about what you want to do next.  How many stat points did you get?”

“Two in agility, one in perception.  None in strength or endurance.”

Nodding as he chewed on some jerky, the Knight gazed at the edge of the lighted area they were in.

“Dad, what time is it?”

“You know, why are you bothering me you jackass? I was asleep!”

“No you weren’t, you were breathing faster than usual.  You can feel it also.”

The older man sat up and Francis could see a frown on his face.

“You’re right.  We need to go.  The battle will be starting soon.”

A hand appeared near him and looking at it, then up at Ginge’s grinning face, Francis quickly shook it.

“Good work.  Perhaps we can train something else another day.  For now, I need to get prepared for the battle.  Dad will watch over you and you can see how the battle goes.”

He paused, a small grimace present for a moment.

“For your sake, I pray the information you gave is correct.  I’d rather not see you die in such a horrible fashion.”

“You and me both,” Francis joked, glad to see the Knight smile at his words.

“Let’s go boy, we have places to be and my bastard of a son has places to be.”

He froze upon hearing those words, certain that Ginge would say or do something but when nothing happened, trotted to where  Nehemiah was.

“Uh… why would you call him that?” he asked quietly.

“Because I didn’t marry his mother.  My wife wouldn’t appreciate that at all.”

Eyes as wide as the rolls he had consumed, Francis couldn’t help but shake his head, following the older man out of the yellow sand barrier and seeing that the sun was rising to the east.

Horns were already starting to sound the call to get up and he felt his heart start to race, knowing that soon everything he bet on was going to happen.

Well at least I won’t have to fight today.