“He’s turning out to be quite the storyteller, isn’t he my dear?” Earl said to Tinne’s mother at one point. “Your imagination will serve you well, my boy.” They travelled for a while listening only to the sound of the steel rimmed wooden wheels on the road. “Have you been consistent with your swordsmanship?” The old man asked eventually. Owen just rolled his eyes and turned to watch the trees pass by. He couldn’t help but recall the half or completely unfinished chores he would come home to. For the first two months Tinne struggled. He was so interested in his studies, especially sword fighting, that he often forgot to do his chores. Or he would forget what he was doing during them and wander off to his practice field. He might be gathering eggs, set the basket down and try a certain parry or bit of footwork. The next thing he would be aware of would be his father yelling for the eggs or he would be standing in the basket. Another time he and his little brother were milking the cows; or rather they were supposed to be milking the cows. Tinne, however, was practicing his footwork. His sudden appel scared one of the cows and it nearly kicked him. The cow Joseph was milking jolted and spilled a nearly full bucket of milk. Owen’s dislike for Tinne’s sword fighting was not unfounded.
“Yes sir.” Tinne answered.
“Are you feeling confident?” Earl asked.
“Yes, I think so.” He replied.
“I’m sure you’ll do fine, Tinne.” His mother encouraged. The boy smiled thankfully.
They started out at sunrise and arrived at Ron’s Academy just before noon. Tinne’s family found a place in the stands and Tinne proceeded to the change room. Tinne’s class consisted of ten students. As theirs was the first level they were scheduled to compete first. The first level class learned only western style fencing. They used blunt rapiers and took their positions on the piste. The piste had been painted on the grass with stands on either side. There was enough room for three competitions at one time. Each bout was presided by graduating students.
Tinne’s first opponent was young boy by the name of Lance. They greeted and saluted each other. They saluted their president and donned their leather and steel mesh masks.
“Prêt.” The presidents called. All six students checked their stances.
“Allez.”
Tinne waited. He watched his opponent. He kept the space as Lance moved forward. “Dad’s watching me.” Tinne thought to himself. “I gotta do this right.” His nerves were getting to him already. He desperately wanted to show his dad he had not been wasting his time.
“Halt! Point.” Tinne’s president called. He looked around bewildered and realized Lance had forced him off the piste. He shook his head with disappointment. He heard his mother calling out to encourage him. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax as Ron had taught them.
“Prêt.” He checked his en garde.
“Allez.”
“Keep the space.” He reminded himself as Lance stepped forward and he stepped back.
He lunged and was parried. He parried the riposte and they conversed momentarily before Lance scored another point. Tinne saw his father in his mind rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “I told you it was a waste of time.” He imagined his father saying to his mother.
The two took their positions behind their respective en guard lines.
“Only two down. I can still beat him.” Tinne encouraged himself. “I only need to make five points.”
He barely heard the instructions of the president and immediately lunged at his opponent, but was parried. He parried the riposte and lunged again.
“Halt. Point.” The president called.
Tinne smiled so broadly he thought it might be possible to see it through his mask.
He feigned a lunge right off the start of the next scrim and as Lance made to parry the imagined attack Tinne lunged proper and made another touch for himself. He quickly made up his five points and was declared the winner of the bout.
Over the next hour Tinne made his way quite successfully to the top of his class. While he waited to face the top of the next class he paced about wiping sweat from his neck and forehead. He had his jacket off and his plastron open to allow circulation of fresh air. He drank a number of glasses of water and didn’t mind that much of it spilled down his front.
Finally the moment had come. Tinne wasn’t sure exactly what to expect. He hadn’t really thought he would get this far and now he was about to face the top student of the next level. Tinne looked around nervously at the audience as he walked up to the piste. He held his mask under his weapon arm with sword in hand.
His opponent was a girl about a year older than he was. She had her long sandy blond hair pulled back in a loose ponytail that swayed as she walked up to shake his hand.
“Lexie.” She said.
“Tinne.”
They stepped back to the en garde lines and saluted. After donning their masks and inspecting each other’s protective clothing for openings took heed to the president’s instructions.
Tinne executed a ballestra lunge in which he faked a lunge and then actually lunged immediately afterward. Lexie parried and retreated. She then took the opportunity while he was not yet recovered and attacked. Tinne barely recovered in time to parry the attack and retreat. Each competitor studied the other for just a second. Lexie then began to set the cadence. They moved back and forth briefly and when she thought Tinne was about to anticipate the move she broke cadence and attacked high to the outside. Tinne’s tension was high and he recalled watching the older students parry with a sweeping motion that covered the whole target area and moved the opponent’s blade up above the head. He shocked himself by successfully completing the parry and made riposte, which unfortunately fell short. Their conversation was continuous yet without point. Tinne was beginning to stumble as the three-minute mark passed and the president called the bout. They removed their masks, saluted and shook hands.
“Very nice!” Lexie exclaimed. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.” Tinne replied with a nod of his head. He was bewildered and flattered.
He looked to the stands to find his family as the president informed them they would have five minutes for a water break. Tinne located his mother standing in the bleachers waving. His dad was still sitting, but he was smiling and waving as well. Tinne’s heart leapt for joy and he could feel his chest swelling with pride.
“Pride comes before the fall.” He remembered Earl saying. He checked himself. “I can’t lose the next bout or I’m finished. Even still, a tied bout with the best of the next level. Wow!” He thought to himself. “But wouldn’t it be something if I could beat her.”
After gulping as much water as his heaving chest would allow he made his way back to the piste. Lexie arrived within seconds. They took their positions on the strip, saluted each other and the president and donned their masks.
“Here goes nothing.” He whispered into his mask as he heard the instructions to ready.
“Allez!”
Lexie lunged immediately and a brief phrase d’armes ensued, followed by a quick studying of each other. Tinne advanced rapidly and feigned an attack. Lexie parried the feint and was still there to parry the next attack. They conversed for nearly forty-five seconds and both lunged simultaneously.
“Halt! Point, right!” The president called.
Tinne’s heart leapt. The point was his. He thought for sure Lexie’s attack connected first. As it turned out she had advanced slightly before she extended her weapon and thus the attack was not true.
“En garde! Prêt! Allez!”
To the utter amazement of all present the bout ended with only the one point made. Tinne, a first level student of only three months, had beaten the better of the second level students. It almost never happened that a student skipped over levels (Once the tournament was over Tinne would begin training at the third level unless Tinne was miraculously abl
e to beat the top of the third level as well). Only one student had done it in the last several years and Tinne would face that student next. He was the top student in the third level.
“Did you see that, dad?” Tinne asked with excitement seeping from every pour. “Did you see it? I beat her! I beat her!” He jumped up and down around his smiling dad.
“Yes, son, you did it.” He put his arm around his eldest son. “You probably need some lunch, hey?” Tinne nodded enthusiastically as the five of them headed for the lunchroom.
“Did it hurt when they stabbed you, Tinne?” Joseph asked with his mouth full of lunch.
“A little, not much.” Tinne replied.
“That was real cool, Tinne! You kicked butt!” Joseph went on. He was obviously very proud of his brother’s accomplishment.
“Too bad you couldn’t put that kind of effort into your chores and other studies.” His dad said under his breath so no one could hear.
As the sun passed its apex Tinne found himself on the strip once again. He faced a young boy who was probably only a year older than he. He looked fairly small with a big head that was crowned with a mop of coppery red hair. They shook hands and introduced themselves. The anxiety was at such a level that Tinne did not hear the other boy’s name. He was one of Ron’s sons. “No wonder he jumped levels. His dad’s the head of the academy.” Tinne thought to himself. They saluted, donned their masks and took their En garde positions. They checked their layered clothing to see it was out of the way and not dragging.
“Prêt! Allez!”
The two fencers moved back and forth together testing and studying each other.
“Why are you bothering? I’m the best there is.” The other boy called. He feigned attack to the high outside line. Tinne nearly parried but caught himself in time to parry the real attack that was on the low inside line.
“Fluke.” Tinne’s opponent mocked. Tinne made a direct attack to the boy’s high line, but was parried easily.
“I told you not to bother. I’m the best.” He chided. They continued to study each other for nearly a minute and a half. Tinne began to hope that, perhaps, Ron’s son was not as good as he claimed.
“If I can just get one point and hold him off for the rest of the bout…” Tinne thought to himself.
At Ron’s Academy the instructors taught their students to expect the unexpected and attempt to predict the unpredictable. They also taught their students to be unpredictable and do the unexpected because that’s what real life is made of. Tinne was about to experience something unexpected in his opponent. He was very accomplished in the Florentine style. Tinne watched as the boy reached up over his head with his free hand and brought it back down with another rapier that had been in a scabbard on his back. Tinne gaped with a stunned look on his face and nearly allowed him to take a point. Tinne’s parrying didn’t matter for much against two swords and within another minute his own sword was flying into the air and landed on the other side of the strip.
“Halte! Point!”
“I told you, just lie down. I’m the best.” The other boy continued his scoff as he turned and walked to the other side of the piste.
Tinne’s dad stood up and hollered his protest at the president.
“How could that possibly be fair? He’s got two swords!”
The president ignored the protest and prepared to start the next bout. Earl explained the system to his great grandson.
“The school teaches its pupils to be ready for real life. Florentines are rare, but they are out there. Therefore it is quite possible to face one at some point in time.” Earl said. “Fear not. I think Tinne may have a trick up his sleeve as well.” He added while indicating the two competitors on the field. “Let’s see shall we?”
“Allez!”
The other boy started at Tinne immediately with both swords. There was a whispered “Pop” and Tinne vanished as his opponent lunged only to reappear behind him and attack. He was quite astonished yet parried the surprise attack with no little amount of effort.
“What the hell?” Tinne’s father exclaimed.
“I thought that might be the card he would play.” Earl said with a smile.
“When did he…How did he…what?” Tinne’s mother stuttered.
This time it was Ron’s wife who stood to protest, but Ron, who was seated beside her, merely placed a hand on hers and calmly had her sit down again. They couldn’t hear what Ron said, but they could only assume he was explaining exactly what Earl had just explained.
“Moidrek said he was coming along well in his studies.” Earl mused while stroking his chin with his index finger. “I didn’t realize he meant that well.”
Tinne’s opponent feigned attack and when Tinne vanished he was ready for him when he reappeared. Before Tinne realized what happened he was hit.
“Halt! Time! Point!”
Tinne hung his head with disappointment as the president announced the end of the match.
“Ren wins! Two Zero!”
The two removed their masks and shook hands.
“That was great! You were incredible! I’ve never seen anyone do that in my life! Can you show me how?” Ren was speaking so fast Tinne had a hard time taking it in. He smiled and thanked Ren for a good match.
“Thanks. No. I’m sorry I can’t show you. I shouldn’t have done it in public.” Tinne replied nervously. “You were really awesome too!”
“You should see my nitojutsu. The tournament’s tomorrow.” Ren said happily.
“Well, thanks, but we’re just here for today. I’ll see you around. Nice to meet you. Great match.” Tinne was looking for his family and upon finding them in the crowd he headed over to them.
He was a little shy and preferred to stay out of the spotlight, but his trick on the piste made him somewhat of a star. Some of the congratulations came from some of the senior students who were sitting behind them under the canopy. They made him feel proud, being his peers and giving their approvals. He didn’t really know their names very well, but he heard them talking while he sat.
“Someone left flowers outside our front door again this morning.” He heard the girl saying. She had long, raven black hair tied in three braids. The hair from the top and sides of her head were braided in the back and the back of her hair was divided for each side. All of the braids reached easily to the middle of her back. Even though Tinne was not interested in girls yet he found it difficult not to look at her. Her skin was fair and smooth. Her brown eyes sparkled with life. He found his eyes continued to follow her strong jaw line up to her ear and proceed to wander the contours there. The clear sound of her voice caused him to lose track of what he was thinking or doing. He would stop half way to his mouth with his canteen.
“Oh, yeah? Who were they from?” One of the two boys asked. He also had black hair that was nearly shoulder length and caught between wavy and curly.
“Angie’s gotta boyfriend. Angie’s gotta boyfriend.” The other teased while nudging the first with his elbow. They both seemed to think it great sport, but Angela did not.
“Shut up, Maynard!” She said. “I don’t have a boyfriend and I don’t know who they were from. The note just said, ‘To Angela’.
“What kind of wuss doesn’t tell a beautiful girl his name when he leaves flowers?” Jessie turned beet red as soon as he realized what he had said. He hoped Angela missed it and looked away to avoid eye contact. She also was a little red while smiling slightly down at her lap.
Maynard stopped laughing and looked at him. “Well maybe he’s a secret admirer. Is there something wrong with being a secret admirer?” He asked. His straight blond hair hung slightly over his face. His hair also hung to his shoulders. Tinne’s mother wondered how their mother’s ever put up with the length of their hair.
“Well no, but this is, what, Angela; the fourth time in as many weeks? It’s like, come on, buddy g
et some hair on your chest. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Maynard nodded, brushed his hair behind his ear and took a bite of a chicken leg he had been carrying with him.
“I don’t really care anyway.” Angela laughed. “I mean, they were nice and all, but I don’t really care either way. I’m sure my dad has some perfect man in mind for me to marry anyway.”
“Didn’t any of the guards see anything?” Jessie asked curiously. Maynard looked on with curiosity as well.
“No. They said they didn’t.”
“Well, it’s not like they were trying to break in or anything. They’re just flowers, right?” Maynard offered.
Jessie looked up toward the piste and noticed the crowd assembling.
“Oh, that’s us. We better get going.” He said quickly as he jumped from his seat and headed to the tournament.
“Guards? Owen, did those boys mention guards in reference to that young girls home?” Tinne’s mother asked her husband while noticing guards all around the property. She also noticed a viewer’s box above one end of the field that looked to be housing someone very important, but she could only guess who it might be. “Is that girl Princess Angela?” She asked Earl. Earl nodded.
“Yes, it certainly is. Many of the graduating students will be accepted into the King’s army and possibly his Royal Guard as well.” He said. “This training facility is second to none.”
Tinne’s father said it was time they got going, but Tinne protested.
“Could we just watch the senior class? I really like to see them in action. They’ve been training for nearly ten years.” He explained with excitement.
His dad looked at the sun in the sky and seeing there was a lot of daylight left agreed to stay.
The first competitors were a pair of girls. Their weapons moved so fast Tinne wondered how anyone could possibly see whom struck first or even who moved first. ‘That’s impossible.’ He thought to himself on more than one occasion. The seniors were spectacular. Even Owen found himself cheering for various competitors.