Work Duty
'Ugh, this backwater village is the worst.' Belingar thought. He was being punished for being lazy on duty again, forced to inspect all the small towns around the area. The one he currently was at didn't even have a name.
Currently, Belingar was seated at a table at the village head's humble home. He had arrived only a few minutes ago but his arrival had sent the old man running over in excitement. Impatiently, Belingar tapped his foot while the village head prepared tea for them to drink. This was the last place on his list before he could return to his post at the capital.
"Ah excuse my manners, young man, my name is Stan Fledger," The old man sat down while he spoke, placing tea in front of Belingar. "We don't get many visitors around these parts, it is very exciting to see a new face."
'Young man?' Belingar was nearing 40 years of age now, not what he would consider young.
"Well, Mr. Fledger, I am here on duty from Kingspren." Belingar smiled, "Routine checks, I'm sure you are tired of them by now." Stan's smile drooped a little upon hearing the news.
"I see, it was to be expected. Truly no one comes to these parts willingly."
A loud knock resounded from the door. The village head stood to answer the door. Belingar stifled a sigh, he was irritated but couldn't afford to show it. Curious, he glanced around the house as he waited. It was more of a room than a house really, none of the homes here were big. The only thing of note was a nice sword hanging over the fireplace. It had a purple blade and a pitch-black handle. Belingar couldn't tell from so far away but he assumed from the rest of the fine work that the blade was properly sharp as well.
"Old man. I'm telling you we need to increase the number of guards in-" The man at the door had barged in, yelling at Stan. But upon seeing a stranger he cut himself off. This new person was wearing shoddy leather armor and had a crude sword hanging from his waist. He seemed to give a quick appraisal of Belingar, looking him up and down with his green eyes.
"Hey, the name is Ben. I'm the head guard around these parts... and you?" Belingar gave his introduction and the three men all began to talk. It was painful for Belingar to do but if he offended anyone here then he would never hear the end of it. Work sucked as is, he didn't need to anger his boss any more than he already did.
"Oh shoot! I gotta go, time for battle lessons." Ben got up with a start and headed for the door. He paused in the doorway and looked back towards Belingar.
"I noticed you have a sword on you, you wouldn't mind helping with lessons today would you Mr. Soldier?" It took all of Belingars willpower to not start cursing the man out right then and there. More work? like anyone wanted to do that. But, he was under strict orders that he was sadly forced to follow.
"I would love to join you"
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The villagers finally began to pile into the field that was used for practice. Ben was giving him a rundown of the people in the class. Housewives, hotheaded men, a foreign orphan, wild boys. None of it mattered. Belingar only joined to keep out of trouble, he would do as little work as possible.
Sparring started and the sound of wood hitting wood sounded all around. 'Sloppy' that's the only word that came to mind when watching them fight. Sluggish attacks, poor defense, improper stances. Belingar had long given up training but the basics would be forever ingrained in his body.
A flash of motion in the corner of his eye caught Belingar's attention. Turning he saw a boy with brown skin wiping the floor with his opponent. The poor spear wielder didn't stand a chance. 'So that's the foreign orphan?' Ben had said that he was the best student by far.
It was nothing special though. Orphans had something to prove, they needed to be strong. Without power, they would be cast from society. Belingar knew this well.
The boy continued to win his matches, at times it seemed like he made rookie mistakes but Belingar could see through them with ease. Fake, hiding his true abilities. With each passing match, Belingar grew angry. Why did he hold back? Did he think himself that much better than the rest? Back when he was the boy's age he had been just starting with the sword. Respect was the first thing he was taught. Always respect your opponent. Never underestimate them.
"You!" Belingar bellowed, pointing his finger toward the boy, "I challenge you to a duel!" someone had to put the orphan in his place. Fighting wasn't a game, he had to teach this boy a lesson. The orphan turned around and stared directly into Belingar's eyes. His purple eyes seemed to ooze authority, a confident smile spread across his face. Despite himself, Belingar felt cold sweat down his back.
It was too late to back out now though, Belingar made his way over to a clearing near the center of the field. His opponent sauntered over and the rest of the students formed a wide circle around the two.
"Real or wooden?" The boy's voice was surprisingly deep for his age. Despite asking a simple question it felt like an interrogation. An aura surrounded the boy and it threatened to flatten Belingar at any moment.
"I didn't bring a wooden. Don't forget duel etiquette and introduce yourself, boy!" Belingar could not allow himself to be suppressed before the fight even started. He needed to get a grip and take a position of superiority. Drawing his sword, he looked down at the boy.
"Real it is then." Unintimidated, the boy pulled out a band from his back pocket and tied his hair back. Then in one swift motion, he drew his blade. It was a shortsword, probably the best size for his age. A silver blade, about 30 inches, with a standard brown pommel and hilt. The only thing that stood out about the blade was its crossguard. It was made out of a strange purple metal that Belingar had never seen before. It also had beautifully ornate designs on it. It appeared almost like the crossguard was pulled from another sword.
"The name is Cain."
"Belignar."
The two rushed forward, both intending to win.