It was a beautiful summer day in the town of Cheydinhal, Vincent and his brother had been sparring in the yard with wooden swords and shields. This was a practice that their father made certain to have them perform at least once every day for two hours. Vincent and his brother, his senior by 6 years, were the two only children of their Imperial family. Their father was extremely loyal to the king and his royalties and wished that his own sons would follow in his steps as Imperial Guards. Unfortunately, neither were very excited to follow in such dull and conformed steps. Vincent was showing promise as a fairly proficient mage in the art of destruction but at the same time could brandish a blade even faster than his father. He was only 10 at the time. His brother, Rorrik, showed almost no development in any form of the magical arts. However his skills in melee combat and knowledge of battle tactics were outclassed by none. No one his age nor even 30 years his senior could match the boy's battle oriented mind. Rorrik was proficient in any form of fighting not involving magic. Be it warhammers, swords, claymores, or just straight up hand to hand, he excelled amazingly. Rorrik was Vincent's instructor in melee combat.
"Alright buddy, I think that's good for sword practice today." Rorrik smiled as he disarmed his younger brother for the third time in about 5 minutes. "Good, stupid long sword, I hate that thing. Can we move on to the claymores Rorrik?" Rorrik smiled, "Ahh but Vincent, if you use a big, slow, dumb claymore then how can you show everyone that amazing magic you have?" As he spoke Rorrik put his hand on Vincent's head and ruffled his brother's hair. Vincent knocked his brother's hand from atop his white tuft of hair and said, "But swords are so dumb, they're quick sure but they hardly do any real damage. I just don't like them, I'd rather be big and strong like you, and use a big War Hammer or something." Vincent muttered this glumly with his arms crossed over his chest. Rorrik, seeing this and hearing his little brother became very stern all of the sudden, "Hey now listen here, the longsword, whether you want it or not, will become your greatest weapon and ally. Once someone has mastered the long sword, they can become so proficient in it that the sword actually feels like an extension of ones self. It's an amazing piece of equipment, sharp, quick, and most importantly, extremely lethal." As if to prove his point, Rorrik unsheathed his real steel sword in a flash of metal against sun and without even looking behind him, cut a falling leaf from the trees above. The leaf ended its destination to the ground in halves, precise and perfectly cut down the middle. Vincent wasn't impressed however, the stubborn child that he was.
"It still seems dumb." Rorrik rolled his eyes, "I guess that means I'll just have to prove to you how deadly swords really can be." He walked into the house, resheathing his blade and leaving Vincent out in the yard. Vincent was confused, where was his brother going? It had only been an hour. However, Rorrik soon returned and this time with a sword not only strapped to his hip, as always, but a second one in both of his hands. The second sword was in an ornate sheath but had an ordinary looking handle at the end. "This," Rorrik said, handing the sword to Vincent, "Is my old iron sword, it was our father's first sword before that and so I figured you should practice with the real deal instead of those dumb wooden swords. This should give you a real feel for fighting and sword play instead of the practice ones. Ready?" Vincent had unsheathed the blade and was beginning to marvel at its elegance and the new weight that came along with metal instead of wood when his brother suddenly lashed out with his own sword. Vincent hardly had enough time to deflect the attack with his own sword before his brother was back in his face, "First rule of battle, be ready for anything." Vincent managed to just barely side step this jab before an uppercut came hunting for his chin.
Bringing his own sword down horizontally, the blades met at Vincent's chest. Sparks went flying and Vincent took a step back to make sure they didn't get in his eyes. "Wrong move little brother." Came his brother's voice from...the left? When did he get over there. Vincent ducked as the top hairs on his head were sliced right from his scalp. He then brought his own sword around and aimed for his brother's shins. His brother expertly pushed off from the ground, performing a back flip to avoid losing his feet. Rorrik was smiling, but it wasn't a pleasant smile, if anything it made Vincent quake in his boots. His brother's smile was that of one who craved bloodshed...and Vincent was the only other person home. "Come on little brother, just try to survive, ok?" Just like that he was back at it again, it was as if he never moved his feet and yet the 16 year old boy was back in his brother's face. Steel met iron numerous times, clanging out and ringing through the yard and across the small collection of houses. "Jesus Christ are you trying to kill me?" Vincent barely let out as he struggled to parry every strike from his brother. His brother just snickered in a devilish tone, "I don't know, you tell me." His attacks were unrelenting and although Vincent was looking for an opening to go on the offensive, he had to maintain his focus on blocking so as not to be caught off guard and catch a sword sweep across the bridge of his nose.
Suddenly he lost his footing and fell back onto the grassy lawn of his yard. When the dust cleared the point of his brother's steel tipped blade was staring him down. "Check and mate little bro." Vincent looked around and then, there it was. His brother had gotten too close, a mistake many wouldn't notice if they were in Vincent's position, however his brother had put him in this kind of scenario numerous times. "Guess what? My last pawn just made it to the end of the board, and I'm bringing back the queen." With the sound of his last word, Vincent brought his left leg around and kicked his brother's legs out from under him. He was up in an instant and now the roles were reversed, except to prove his point, Vincent actually touched his raw cast iron sword to his older brother's neck. Almost immediately the fight went out of his brother's eyes and sheer hatred became its replacement. "We're done for today." Rorrik seethed as he knocked the sword away with the back of his hand. "But father didn't sa-" Vincent began in his childish voice. Rorrik didn't even look back as he strode into the house and slammed the door behind him.
Words: 1195
Blade: Apprentice ---> Journeyman
