Chapter B4C40 - Commune
“Tyron, lad,” Magnin said, shaking his head while his mother, sat nearby atop the stone fence, shook with silent laughter. “What are you doing?”
Flushed with equal parts embarrassment and anger, Tyron waved his sword through the air.
“I’m doing the exercise you showed me. What does it look like I’m doing?”
They hadn’t been out long, but already his shoulders ached and sweat ran down his brow. How his father was able to do this for hours and hours at a time, he couldn’t imagine.
In truth, he hated it. But when his father was home, he would always agree to practise the sword as much as he was asked. After all, it wouldn’t be long until Magnin and Beory were gone again. They couldn’t stay longer than a month at a time if they tried. And they had tried.
“The exercise I showed you is a precise set of movements that require grace, balance and power to achieve. What you just did was stab and slash the air like it owed you money. Look, here, watch me.”
No matter how upset he was, he would always turn, immediately, whenever either of his parents spoke those words.
Watch me.
He knew that he would be about to watch something incredible. Something very few were ever lucky enough to see.