Every Drop

"Again!" barked Freyn Grevenich.

Fate exhaled and brought his wooden training sword back up, swinging it down at his opponent.

His opponent blocked it with the flat of her blade, pushing his sword away as she lunged forward.

Fate sidestepped, turning his wrists vertically to meet her sword with the flat of his own before shoving it aside.

Just as he was about to go for the kill, a young man with blonde hair stumbled in between him and his opponent, arms flailing wildly as he tried to maintain his balance.

"STOP!" yelled Freyn.

The blades of Fate and his opponent halted mid-swing, and the two lowered their weapons to their sides, their breathing even and calm even as every cell in their body was lit ablaze.

The blonde young man tripped and landed on his ass, a stern glare from Freyn causing his face to turn red in embarrassment and anger.

He stood silently and walked back over to his starting position, indicated by a red, spray-painted "X" on the ground, and clasped his hands respectfully behind his back.

His opponent, Cait, did the same, the both of them struggling to catch their breath. All four trainees were covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

The four stood in an open, grassy courtyard surrounded by the walls of the Grevenich estate, which had sliding wood doors covered in intricately-carved depictions of cherry blossoms and swallows that led inside the building.

The doors were under a porch resembling engawa, with a raised wooden floor set above the grass and wooden poles at the edges to hold the overhanging, slanted roof of the estate up.

In one corner of the square-shaped courtyard, under the engawa, sat Kravoss and Pospo, who lounged next to barrels of spears and racks of swords.

They appeared relaxed, but they were anything but, having just finished their own training session in a different courtyard. Their muscles were on fire and they only now had managed to catch their breath, but they were determined to rest before they had to resume their training.

Another side of the clearing had straw targets for archery and straw training dummies, while the rest of the courtyard was reserved for matches and training like Fate and Cait were undergoing.

It was the first official day of Fate's career as a Guard, and his first day in hell.

He and the others had been woken up before the sun had risen and thrown into rigorous exercise, including a thirty-mile run around the Grevenich estate and two hours of various exercises.

Kravoss and Pospo had to participate as well. Watching a Dracok do squats was almost as entertaining as watching a cat do pushups, and the hilarious sight was enough to make Fate forget about the worst of his pain.

Then they had all been pulled out into this courtyard, where they had been training ever since.

It was four in the afternoon, and unlike the Familiars, the humans and kitsubus hadn't had a chance to rest. Stopping or slowing earned a smack from the wooden rod in Freyn Grevenich's hand, along with threats of expulsion from the Guard.

Only Fate's Skill kept him from gasping for breath like Cait and Pethren, and he suspected Ashla had a similar trick up her sleeve.

The four of them were under the tutelage of the Grevenich family, which was a special "militant" family.

As previously mentioned, militant families didn't fit into the hierarchy of noble family ranks, instead existing outside of it. Their jobs were to raise and train the next generation of the Empress' Guard, and they took their jobs very seriously.

No militant family had easy training, but some were far crueler than others. The Grevenich family was the harshest of the militant families, and completing your training under them was considered a marker of great talent and persistence.

Due to their unique role, they were neither above nor below other royal families, holding no sway over them but yielding to none of them. They answered only to the Empress herself, and those of her staff she deemed fit to do so.

"Ashla, your swordsmanship is good, but needs work. But you, Fate…" Freyn shook his head. "I don't know how you can fend off Ashla's attacks with how sloppy you are. It's almost like you're trying to use that sword like a different kind of blade."

Fate frowned lightly, but didn't comment. He, too, had noticed this.

He didn't know why or how, considering the sword he held now was a wooden version of the sword he had used during his detention. It was one of the two types of swords he had laid hands on in his lifetime, the other being the enchanted red greatsword he had earned after said detention.

Both types of swords had their nuances, but his greatsword was essentially a scaled-up longsword. It wouldn't be an exact one-for-one transition, but somehow, he couldn't use either type of sword properly.

Ashla's expression remained stony, but her brown eyes glimmered with pride at the compliment.

"And as for you, Pethren," Freyn said, his gray eyes turning to the blonde young man, "you have a long way to go before you can hold your own against Cait.

"Your parents assured me that you could tangle with the best, and yet you struggle in such basic training. Why don't you go to the Dreakthas'? Their rookies are around your skill level."

Pethren squared his shoulders and raised his chin slightly, his eyes remaining pointed forward.

Freyn nodded at this, his expression giving nothing away. "Then I expect you to improve swiftly. While my Grevenich family is training you, you are to meet our standards and exceed our expectations.

"Failure to do so will have you removed. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Shouted Pethren.

"Good. Resume."

The four burst into motion, fists flying and wooden swords clacking under the watchful eye of Freyn Grevenich, whose diligent observation revealed the many flaws in their forms.

As he watched, they improved at a rate that surprised the jaded Guard, if only slightly. Pethren, especially, was moving forward by leaps and bounds, closing the gap between him and Cait with every strike.

Freyn had seen far better, but this group of hopeful Guards had a lot of potential.

And he'd wring out every drop before sending them out to the field.