9. First Choosing #2
“Your way built an empire,” I replied. I met his eyes directly and ignored protocol. “Empires need borders. Borders need reach. The spear keeps enemies from ever touching the sword.”
Murmurs rose from the assembled household, some carrying anger and others carrying thoughtfulness. Choosing two weapons was unconventional. It suggested either ambition or stupidity.
“You would divide your focus?” This from Helene, the senior weapon mistress. Her tone held genuine curiosity rather than condemnation.
“I’d unite them. Steel’s reach extends beyond the blade when needed.” I let rainwater run down my face without wiping it. “The sword serves when they close. The spear serves when they shouldn’t. ”
Henrik studied me for long moments. I could see him weighing politics against pragmatism. A bastard declaring for two weapons set precedent. Others might follow. Refusing might waste potential.
“You risk going hungry chasing two rabbits,” he said. “Most who try to master multiple weapons end up mediocre with all.”
“Then I’ll run faster.”
A sound escaped him, neither approval nor dismissal. “Show us.”
The command caught me off guard, but I was ready. I moved to the weapon rack and selected a practice spear sized for my height. The wood was soaked from rain, but the weight felt right.
I flowed through the forms Rulfen taught in pre-dawn darkness.
The spear swept low across the ground, scattering rainwater in an arc, then rose in a spiraling thrust that would’ve taken a man through the throat.
I shifted my grip and let the shaft slide through my palms, extending my reach by two feet before snapping back into a defensive position.
The butt end came around in a strike meant for knees, then reversed into an overhead blow that cracked against empty air where a skull would’ve been.
Water flew from the weapon’s length with each movement.
When I finished, I set the spear down and drew the shortened sword from my belt. House style followed. The family forms that built their reputation. High guard to lightning strike. Blaise Gate to the spiral cut that gave the style its name.
Each movement bled into the next.
Then I combined them. Sword in right hand, left hand miming spear grips. I showed how they complemented each other. The sword parried while the spear thrust. The spear controlled distance while the sword waited to strike .
My demonstration was theoretical, limited by a single weapon, but the concept carried.
Defense and offense unified. Reach and power working together rather than against each other.
When I stopped, breathing hard, the rain had soaked through to skin. I returned to position and waited.
“Ambitious,” Henrik said. “Perhaps too ambitious.” He raised his voice for the courtyard to hear. “Witnessed. You’ll train both blade and spear. Master Rulfen will oversee your progress.”
His gaze settled on me. “If you fail to excel at both, you forfeit both.”
The threat was clear. Double the training meant double the chances to fail. The arrangement also meant double the opportunities to prove worth.
“Understood, Lord.”
I bowed and stepped back. I felt Maise’s fierce grin without looking. Perrin’s quiet approval radiated from my left. Even Grit shifted, which was his version of applause.
「Path Declared: Dual Weapon Cultivation」
The ceremony continued, but I’d marked myself. I’d set a path that led either to excellence or to an early grave. The other bastards looked at me with expressions ranging from respect to calculation. From the platform, Kasimir’s glare promised he’d test my choice soon.
Good. Let him come with his single sword and proper form. I’d show him why mercenaries survived when knights died.
The remaining choices passed quickly. Most picked safe paths. Sword for the boys. Ledger work for those who proved too weak for steel. A few surprised with mace or crossbow, but nothing matched the audacity of dual weapons.
When the last child retreated, Henrik addressed the assembled.
“Witnessed and recorded. Serve well. Fail, and others take your place.”
The crowd dispersed. Acknowledged heirs filed back to their warm quarters. We bastards trudged through mud to cold barracks and thin soup.
◇ ◆ ◇
That evening, Rulfen found me maintaining both weapons by dying firelight.
“Clever speech,” he said. “Borders and reach. Henrik appreciated the reasoning.”
I kept my eyes on the blade. “Truth helps convince.”
“Truth.” He spat into the coals. “You know what you’ve bought yourself? Dawn runs carrying both weapons. Double drills.”
He leaned back. “Half the rest because you’ll spend twice the time training. The acknowledged heirs will see you as a threat now, instead of an ambitious bastard.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” He settled beside me, bad leg stretched toward warmth. “Most try to be clever and end up tired. The body rebels. Muscle memory tangles itself.”
I ran the oilcloth down the spear shaft. “Then I’ll untangle it.”
He studied me with his good eye. “Your mother had that same certainty. Quiet thing when she came here. Underneath, though.”
He shook his head. “Recognition sees recognition, boy. Whatever drives you, it’s older than six winters. ”
I kept working oil into steel and said nothing.
“The others follow you,” he continued. “That red-haired hellion. The ghost boy. Even young Perrin when he’s not liberating supplies. You’re building something.”
“Surviving together beats dying alone.”
Rulfen’s jaw worked, chewing on the words. “True. Henrik watches such things. Groups become factions. Factions become problems.” He stood, joints popping. “Be careful how tight you bind them. This house has ways of breaking bonds.”
After he left, I sat alone with my weapons. The spear shaft carried new marks from today’s demonstration, and the sword’s edge held fresh oil. Both were extensions of will, ways to reach out and change the world’s shape.
Tomorrow would double the pain. Tomorrow would double the exhaustion. Tomorrow would double the chance of failing something and losing everything.
Tonight, I chose my path openly. I declared for versatility over tradition and set myself apart from the safe choices.
Somewhere in the main house, Henrik de Blaise weighed whether his bastard son showed promise or problems. Somewhere else, Kasimir plotted ways to break me for the insult of ambition.
Let them plan. I’d died once already. Everything since was borrowed time, invested carefully.
Tomorrow I’d run until my legs failed, drill until my arms went numb, and eat whatever scraps remained after double training.
Tonight, I had two weapons and three allies. I had a mother’s memory and a father’s reluctant attention.
It was more than most bastards ever grasped.
「Hel’s Ledger 」
Vessel: Danarre de Blaise | Year 821 | Age 6
House de Blaise | Status: Bastard (Unacknowledged)
Location: de Blaise Estate, Training Grounds
「Knight of Swords」 — Stirring
「Emperor」 — Sleeping
「Magician」 — Sleeping
Active Charge: Find the one who broke Hel’s claim.
He carries the dead well. They’ll make room for more.