User blog:DaWalkinWaffle/Thorns: Part I

The next series has been released!

“Didn’t I tell you that you were not allowed to arm yourselves? You will never be out in battle!” General Ayrus said.

“If we will never be in battle, then it does not matter if we have weapons or not.” Violet said. Ayrus scowled.

“You were the royal family of Agni! You do not need weapons!”

“Ayrus, we need to defend ourselves.” Violet said.

“They have a point, General.” the blacksmith said. Ayrus turned to the man.

“Quiet Jack! You’re here as a privilege!” Ayrus said.

“Be nice to Jack, Ayrus.” Violet said.

“You three were not to get weapons!” Ayrus said.

“I obey the rightful rulers of Agni, General.” Jack said.

“He is right, Ayrus. Agni is rightfully my sisters so its people listen to her above all others.” Rose said. Ayrus took a deep breath.

“It is my job to protect you, not for you to protect yourselves! You are princesses!” Ayrus said.

“What rational reason is there for us not to arm ourselves? What if we are caught alone off guard? Or our guards are killed? What then?” Rose demanded.

“It is my job to make sure that doesn’t happen!” Ayrus said.

“And did it occur to you that you might fail and we may have to defend ourselves?” Rose said harshly.

“I…” Ayrus started.

“Quiet. You will let us keep the weapons or you will be replaced.” Rose said. Ayrus scowled.

“Yes, my lady.” Ayrus stalked off.

“You were a bit harsh, Rose.” Violet said.

“Every rose has its thorns.” Jack said. “Now, I believe these are yours?” Jack handed the princesses two scabbarded sabers.

“Thank you, Jack. I’m sorry you had to go through all this trouble.” Violet said.

“I’m happy to serve my princesses.” Jack said. “Do you require anything else?”

“No. Thank you Jack.” Rose said. Jack bowed.

“Of course, my ladies.” Jack said and walked off. Rose unsheathed her sword. It was a beautiful work, a metallic red blade with runes carved into the side. It was thin but powerful. Violet’s was almost the same but a metallic purple color. A note was tied to the scabbard.

“Jack named it Tuhnar.” Rose said.

“I wonder why he named yours.” Violet said.

“Yeah. Me too.” Rose said.

“So an alliance is to be forged?” Ayrus asked.

“It is the only way in which we will survive.” the Atharvan pirate said.

“And you speak for you people?” Ayrus asked.

“I must. They are too cowardly to follow anyone else.”

“Then we have an agreement?”

“We do.”

“Very well. Princess? Do you have any objections?” Ayrus asked.

“I have none.” Violet said.

“Very well. We shall proceed.” Unnoticed, Rose slipped out of the large tent being used as a meeting area. She snuck out, searching for Jack’s wagon. Jack was an odd man, and old come to think of it. He travelled in a ox-pulled wagon, as to travel with his smithing equipment, but also with his books. Rose enjoyed looking through them at times. Her favorite was a book on the First God War. She knocked on the side of the wagon. She didn’t hand out respect very liberally but Jack had some of it. “Yes?” he asked.

“Jack, it’s me! Rose.” she said.

“Of course it is. Only you have the courage to knock on a blacksmith’s wagon. Come in I suppose.” She climbed into his covered wagon, taking care not to rip her clothing. She had taken to more practical clothing lately, something even Ayrus couldn’t even dispute. Black pants and boots with a red top and a short red cape. She left her brown hair down. Jack looked up when she entered. Even though he was old, there was something youthful about him. He had the body of a younger man, albeit a small one. He was also a former swordsman and Rose hoped he could teach her how to fight.

“So, what do you need today?” Jack asked.

“I need to learn how to fight with my sword.” Rose said. Jack frowned.

“All of my swords are meant for men. No matter which one I use I would have the weight advantage.” Jack said.

“Then perhaps you could show me what to do?” Jack thought about that.

“It would be fairly difficult. Swordsmanship is a skill that require a lot of practice and you simply do not have that time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ayrus would not approve. If he found out...I fear for you more than myself.”

“Why is that?” Jack laughed.

“If Ayrus restricted you even more than now, I think you’ll finally bit back!” Rose smiled at that.

“I suppose so. Perhaps I could come at night then?”

“If you are willing to sacrifice sleep, I do not see why not.” Rose smiled.

“Thanks, Jack. I’ll see you tonight.”

Rose started training with Jack at night. She was amazed at his skill with the sword and that only made her respect him more. But it was frustrating. He had her do the same drills, same motions over and over. One night, she pointed this out to him.

“Why am I doing the same thing over and over again?” she demanded.

“You asked me to teach you. This is how I teach.” Jack replied evenly.

“You haven’t taught me anything new for almost a week! I’m tired of the same things every night. I’ve probably mastered everything if this is all swordsmanship is.” Jack looked at her curiously.

“You are nowhere close to mastering everything. I could beat you with a wooden stick.” he said.

“Prove it.” she said. Jack sighed.

“Fine. If you think you’re so skilled, beat me. If you win, we’ll move on.” Jack said. He grabbed a short staff from the trunk at the back of his wagon. He lashed out at her quickly and she had to jump out of the way. Rose attempted to strike back but Jack deflected her blade and struck her wrist.

“Agh!” she cried. It wasn’t a serious hit, just enough to hurt but not enough to cause serious damage. More than a bit annoyed now, she lashed out unthinkingly and Jack struck her elbow. Not once was she able to land a single blow but Jack was able to hit her at seemingly every moment. He dodged everything and hit everything. Her head, her knees, her elbows, her knuckles, shoulders, her ankles, her ribs. Finally she couldn’t take it anymore. Tuhnar fell from her grasp and she collapsed. She felt the wood stick on the back of her head.

“Your pride will kill you. Come back when you understand.” Jack said.

Jack was merciful. He carried her back to the tent where she and her sisters slept. The last she saw of him before she fell asleep was him looking down at her. He wasn’t pitying.

It was disappointment.

It hurt more than pity ever would.