The next morning Boro had breakfast with Nila and afterwards sent orders for his army to broke camp and began marching towards Kurten, a fortress city further to the north nestled right in the Gladous Mountains. It was a slow process. Boro's army had around four thousand foot, archers and cavalry and a thousand or more, army followers including woman too big with child, elderly who tended to the cooking, cleaning and washing, and children, so many children, left orphaned or homeless because of the ongoing conflict. Several of his officers had been petitioning him daily to take the orphans on as soldiers and train them for war but Boro refused them every time. He would not raise an army of child soldiers, but he did offer service to any youth of age to be taught the sword and spear. Those too young but insistent on joining he took on as squires, pages and message runners, anything he could think of to keep them busy and out of trouble. The journey itself would normally last two spans o
Several days passed before Boro and Lady Jesa's forces began to move again. During the day Boro did his best to stay as far from Lady Jesa as possible, but he frequently found the task near impossible, she attended every meeting. Be it a meeting for the leaders or just a small counsel meeting to resolve minor disputes in camp, she was there. She never made comment about their night in her tent but Boro often felt, and saw, her eyes on him and although she did not speak of it, she also did not shy away from being close to him. She would wait for the rest of the officers to leave to try catching him alone, and despite him doing his best to make excuses to leave, she had successfully caught him alone several times. She continued to court him when she caught him alone, offering to sit with him for meals, or attend him while they were on the move, once she even asked for a private audience in his own tent... In front of several of his own officers. Before long she will be waking up early
Bora took a cautious step forward. He moved slowly and with purpose, his movements calculated. He held a slender sword out in front of himself. It's single edge glinted menacingly with the faint light of the fire behind him. Across from him stood a foe who was equally, if not more so, confident in their own sword skills. His opponent held his blade hilt with both hands. Bora saw a flash of amusement in their eyes from behind their helmet. They circled one another like two feral alley cats. Each waiting for the other to lapse in their attention. Seconds stretched out in to what seemed like an eternity, till finally a faint scream from the depths of the burning city called out. It was then that the helmeted opponent lunged forward with the grace of a life long swordsman. Their blades met, sending sparks flying outw
A graduation ceremony was held at hilight, when Tullus, the third moon, was at its peak in the sky over Korone. It shone bright yellow, casting an almost sinister light on the fifteen students in Boro's graduating class. He remembered when he had first started at the academy, his class had numbered in the mid-fifties. Over the course of the last four years that number had slowly dwindled down. Students left when the training became too intense. On a few occasions students had been severely injured, twice students had been killed. Both times had been declared accidents but Boro still wondered about the truth to the rumors. He glanced out of the corner of his eyes seeing Mika standing there looking smug. One of those deaths had been at his hands. One of the people killed had their neck broken with a wooden practice sword. The other had b
Boro and Mika stood in the sand circle as the two finalists. The animosity between the two was so thick in the air it was almost palpable. Boro stood in the ready form, Crane In The Water, standing perfectly balanced on one leg, his sword held out before him. Mika stood in a form that Boro didn't recognize. Boro prided himself on knowing all the forms of classical, and modern, sword art, the fact he didn't recognize this one was puzzling.This must be a form of his own making, He thought with both surprise, and unwillingly, respect. The form had Mika crouched low to the ground, his own hand and a half sword held upwards in front of him.When the call to begin was shouted, Boro took a cautious step forward and was immediately on defense as Mika struck at him with nearly blinding speed.&
Three days later found Boro, with his travel pack, saying farewell to his few friends at the Academy. With his letter of apprenticeship and gold emblem, he had no more need to stay at the Academy. His goal, to be the greatest swordsman of all time, would not be accomplished by staying any longer. So he found himself waving farewell to Nila at the end of the town surrounding the Academy. In his heart he yearned to stay and build a life with her. She wanted to take more time to study and hone her own sword skills, but Boro suspected that she was also looking to receive a letter of apprenticeship as well. This sheet of vellum was worth more to an aspiring sword master than an entire sack of gold royals. Most master swordsmen were employed by a Lord and as such made plenty of money. With the title of Sword Master, one could be a personal b
Before Boro left the town he asked around for anyone selling a horse and was pointed to a stable just outside of town on the west road. What good luck I have, he thought to himself smiling and chuckling lightly to himself. So Boro left the small town, continuing on his way westward along the thin dirt road. He felt refreshed after the night spent in a real bed and fresh rumors of Tutija Pale Sword. He even went as far as whistling happily as he walked the road. He still had more several hundred leagues left to go but hopefully the stable man would have a good horse to help cut down the time to travel the daunting distance. The sun had not yet reached its peak from behind the forest trees when Boro saw the trail of smoke and the fresh scents of manure and hay in the air. He picked up his pace a bit, excited and hopeful. He saw the brightly painted red stable and two boys wheeling out the freshl
Boro launched himself up onto his feet, his sword whipping around to catch two of the bandits' throats. They fell to the ground, one letting out a choaking sound, the other grabbing his sliced throat as if trying to hold it together with just his hands. They would both be dead in seconds. A quick assessment told Boro that there were still five men surrounding him with drawn swords. They began to react now, each moving in to try and kill him. They were many, but they were uncoordinated, and Boro was able to slip past two of their guards and get out of their ring of death. Boro spun himself around their backs using Wind Kisses The Valley, and sliced two of their ankles cutting through flesh and bone. One fell to the ground at once, clutching his wound and howling in pain and terror. The other tried to turn and found his injured leg unable to hold his weight up, he followed his wounded ally to the ground, hi
Several days passed before Boro and Lady Jesa's forces began to move again. During the day Boro did his best to stay as far from Lady Jesa as possible, but he frequently found the task near impossible, she attended every meeting. Be it a meeting for the leaders or just a small counsel meeting to resolve minor disputes in camp, she was there. She never made comment about their night in her tent but Boro often felt, and saw, her eyes on him and although she did not speak of it, she also did not shy away from being close to him. She would wait for the rest of the officers to leave to try catching him alone, and despite him doing his best to make excuses to leave, she had successfully caught him alone several times. She continued to court him when she caught him alone, offering to sit with him for meals, or attend him while they were on the move, once she even asked for a private audience in his own tent... In front of several of his own officers. Before long she will be waking up early
The next morning Boro had breakfast with Nila and afterwards sent orders for his army to broke camp and began marching towards Kurten, a fortress city further to the north nestled right in the Gladous Mountains. It was a slow process. Boro's army had around four thousand foot, archers and cavalry and a thousand or more, army followers including woman too big with child, elderly who tended to the cooking, cleaning and washing, and children, so many children, left orphaned or homeless because of the ongoing conflict. Several of his officers had been petitioning him daily to take the orphans on as soldiers and train them for war but Boro refused them every time. He would not raise an army of child soldiers, but he did offer service to any youth of age to be taught the sword and spear. Those too young but insistent on joining he took on as squires, pages and message runners, anything he could think of to keep them busy and out of trouble. The journey itself would normally last two spans o
Boro stepped back when he saw the warriors face. In the briefest of time, memories filled Boro's mind. Pleasant nights training under moons light, days filled with laughter and happiness, evening arguments and debates on philosophy and war strategy. A tear threatened to fall from his eyes but he snapped himself back to the battlefield and blinked away the tear. Nila's eyes too seemed filled with surprise, not just at her defeat, but also at meeting with an old friend on the battlefield. All around them the battle still raged, although the sounds of war seemed to be decreasing, he knew this to mean that he had won and the battle would soon be over. He shouted for his guards to take her prisoner, even as Nila herself looked around for her own, all whom lay slain or injured beyond help. Injured, alone, disarmed and defeated she had no choice but to follow along as several of his own guards lifted her to her feet and took her away from the battle. Boro reassessed the battlefield, though
Boro pulled his blade from the throat of the woman he had killed. Using her thick woolen cloak to wipe away the blood already beginning to freeze on the gleaming metal. He felt a burning sensation in the left side of his abdomen and saw a wide puncture mark in his steel armour. Dammit all, another wound to tend to Boro thought angrily. He had no time to tend to it now though, as a battle was raging all around him. Boro quickly found his unit and used them to cover him while he hastily ripped off another chunk of his undershirt to staunch the bleeding. As soon as he had it secured to the wound he jumped back into the fighting. All around him was chaos, men and woman meeting with swords, spears or maces, the sounds of metal ringing against metal, and the screams of fear and pain when cold steel parted hot flesh. His own wounds burned and throbbed terribly but over the sounds of agony, his own seemed to pale in comparison. The smell of blood, piss and shit was becoming
The city of Kolomet was even more immense then Helfa. It was also far older, and its known history stretched back for nearly millennia. However, were Helfa was a city of colors, this one was the opposite, all the buildings were grey and drab and lacked the same majesty. But Kolomet was made for a different reason then the last. Kolomet was a fortress encircled by walls twice as tall as any he'd ever heard of, let alone seen with his own eye's. According to all reports, the lord of this city, Amara Trili, was a life long military man, his own father having fought for the Kings army right up until he died in combat. The man had been nearly seventy years at his death. Rumor said the the elderly lord had been sick for many years before the war that drew him from retirement started. They had been planning on using that as a way to bring Amara in to the fold. When Boro and Littume arrived in the office of the cities Lord. He was certain this mission would be a failure. All a
Boro and Littume left the city in the quiet of early morning. They and a handful of soldiers as an escort, slowly marched down the cobbled streets of Helfa, people were just beginning to fill the streets, preparing merchant stalls and storefronts for another day of business. They barely gave the small procession a second glance as they went about there morning. There were twelve of them total, Littume, Boro, nine of Lord Jetir's strongest household guards, and his most trusted officer. When they arrived at a private gate house, Boro was surprised to see Lord Jetir himself there to see them off. He had an entire procession of guards of his own, one of them held the reins of two horses laden with packs and supplies. Lord Jetir clapped Boro on the shoulder with one hand, the other holding a long folded piece of cloth, and told him that the two pack horses were his, to feed and supply himself while on the road. He also handed Boro a fat sack that clinked heavily when dropped in
Although he was yet to be acknowledged as a blade master, Boro was a few steps away from that title officially. There were a few ways to obtain the title of blade master. The most common way was to defeat a titled master in a duel, whether that be a duel to the death or not, beating someone who holds that title, usually witnessed by others to authenticate the claim, would allow one to become a blade master. Furthermore, being tutored by an acknowledged master, and in turn being acknowledged by that master, was another way for one to finally obtain that title. Boro had yet to have either of those occur yet, so Littume's request was highly unusual. As Boro could not acknowledge Littume's sword skill as a master, then his tutelage would only be good for further Littume's skill. Training under someone not yet a master, was something not often done. A perspective master would only seek out those that could ack
Hearing Lord Jetir's words struck a huge mental blow to Boro. He had resented his father, but only for his role in the fall of his family. In truth, Boro still loved and idolized his father for his legendary skill and strength. His goal to be the greatest blade master was to restore his family name and honor; a large part of that goal was so that people no longer said Bora the Bold's name with spite. How could he not want to be like the man he so admired, the father that he loved and hated too? Boro's mother spent much of his childhood, after Bora's disgrace, telling Boro that his father was a great man and that if he could have done things differently, then he would have. She was convinced that he did the best he could to protect Galaos and bring about peace. But no amount of well speaking could fill the hole left in her when he had died and they had become destitute. That angered Boro even more, becaus
The next day Boro spent the morning sleeping off the drink from the night. When he woke, mid-morning, he readied himself for his second meeting with Lord Jetir. His time at the Golden Goose last night had kept him from thinking too hard about the Lords offer but now he thought it through. He held much animosity to the King for what he had done to Boro's family. He had often day dreamed of confronting the King when he was a child, challenging him to a duel for the throne and killing him and restoring his families name. But as he grew older those dreams he recognized for what they were, the foolish dreams of a young, angry boy. Now this man had offered him a path to making that dream a reality. Would he really pass it up? Boro spent his time waiting for the summons thinking this through, viewing the issue from every angle. In the end, when the knock at his door came and the guard entered announcing the summ