CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Swrowing From One’s Heart

  “Draw your sword, Prince Bram,” Ser Anthony insisted.

  Calling him by hat’s how Bram knew his seneschal was serious.

  “So, this is why you wao meet iraining grounds…” Bram’s gaze drifted down to the pommel of his bastion-fed steel longsword. “…and why you’d insisted on issioning me a new sword as quickly as possible.”

  Ser Anthony smiled. “As always, you cat quick.”

  His smile twitched slightly.

  “That wit has ever been yreatest strength,” the seneschal admitted. “It will serve you well when learning the first teique of the Peerless Heart Sword.”

  Bram sighed.

  “You know I ’t use sorcery…”

  “Lady Rowan’s told me differently.”

  Bram gnced sideways at Rowan, who, along with Chris and Bridget, had moved to the side of the arena. As she roo do in suents, the trickster offered Bram a challenging smile as if to egg him on.

  The prince sighed again.

  “I’ve received but a trickle of magi my veins… It’s not nearly enough to harhe sorcery for such grand swordsmanship.”

  Despite his obvious retice, Bram’s right hand still grasped his sword’s hilt.

  “I’m tired of failing you…”

  “It’s not weak to fear failure, Yhness…but it is weako fear n.”

  One of the things that irked Bram most was to be told he wasn’t trying. He’d tried his best ihing he’d attempted to do so far—to the point of coughing blood whenever he pushed his body past its limits—and still he would fall short of the other royals who barely lifted their fio achieve something of o tell Bram he wasn’t trying…such words were fighting words to the prince, causing his fio tighten around the handle of his sword.

  “I khe fire still burned in you.” Ser Anthony aimed his sword’s tip at his prince, an act that would have been seen as treacherous if it had been done by anyone else. “Once I’m satisfied with your progress, then I will agree to your request.”

  “You do uand that I only want to copy your job’s regur abilities,” Bram reiterated, adding, “The Peerless Heart Sword wouldn’t be part of this exge unless you offered to make it into…”

  Bram’s brow creased as he tried to recall one of the gamer terms he’d been learning from Hajime.

  “…A skill book…which I wouldn’t ask—”

  “I’ll allow it,” Ser Anthony cut in.

  Bram’s jaw dropped. “Y-You would share such a prestigious martial sorcery with people who ’t know nor appreciate its storied history…?”

  “A manual wouldn’t be enough to teaeohe Peerless Heart Sword.” Ser Anthony ughed out loud. When he finished his moment of glee, he added, “It would take a savant of Prince Balor’s caliber to uand the intricacies of the heart sword without a proper teacher to guide his training…ah know there aren’t many among the Imperium’s knightly orders who could match your brother’s talent.”

  The mention of Atn’s third prince caused Bram’s brow to furrow.

  Uhe Ill-Fated Prince, Balor was regarded as a talent eared only on a geion. Among the royals, he was known to be a gentleman who was kind, fair, and wise—a fact Bram couldn’t refute because his older brother had reated him with the pt his other siblings showed Bram. For the on citizens of Atn, Balor was oouted as the ‘New Light of the Imperium’ and there were maainers in the Sn’s court who believed he might bee the heir.

  “Not even Balor could escape this damnable game of succession,” Bram whispered darkly.

  It had been over a year since he’d st seen his older brother. Indeed, Balor hadn’t graced the Sn’s court with his presence for lohan that, and the rumors of why he’d sequestered himself in his bastion at Alba, the capital of the Highnd Kingdom of Tara, were many and varied and full of dark tidings.

  “Yes…it’s why we too must be ever vigint.” Ser Anthony’s expression stiffehough this stiffness was quick to pass. “In any case, the skills I’ve sharpened into a fine bde as a rare prize would make yame more iing to those otherworlders who will gather in Lotharin.”

  One of Bram’s eyebrows hitched upward.

  “You’ve been paying attention to Hajime’s lectures…?”

  “Any good seneschal would do his utmost to learn more about the men and women my prince associates with,” Ser Anthony answered, chug afterward. “You’ve made iing friends, Yhness.”

  Bram couldn’t help chug himself. Friend—it was a word he didn’t expect to hear. At least not ing himself.

  Finally, with his thoughts anized, Bram drew his longsword from its sheath.

  “I appreciate the lesson.”

  He raised his longsword’s hilt to his chest in a knight’s salute. It was a gesture Ser Anthony didn’t return.

  “Take this seriously, Yhness.”

  “I am.”

  “Thehe sword with your left hand.”

  “…You remembered?”

  “I’ve been watg you since you learo walk. Of course, I remember that you’re a southpaw.”

  In his mind’s eye, Bram recalled a ret battle where he’d been forced to use his left hand to wield a sword and how it had felt more fortable fighting Baer and his friends as a lefty. In truth, Atn’s seventh prince had switched to using his sword with his right hand only after his academy instructors forced this lesson upon him.

  “A sword belongs in the right hand, Yhness… That’s how prentlemen fight,” his primary grade sword instructor had once cimed, a hint of the usual derision in his tone.

  Every time Bram fot this lesson, his instructors or peers would ridicule him. Not directly, of course. Despite his ill-fated reputation, Bram was still a prince, and his royal blood was enough to shield him from a more severe kind of oppression like the ones young ot from the young nobles who lorded over them. These so-called noble children would often speak just loud enough for Bram to hear how ignorant they thought him to be. Because of this verbal bullying, Bram had learo hide his quirks, and that included suppressing his o use his domina arm. It wasn’t until he’d met the Delightful Troupe much ter in his youth that he began using his left hand again, though only when necessary.

  Today, Bram listeo his seneschal’s advice, though not without adding his own bite to the versation.

  “I’ll swity left hand if you put away the pipe.”

  Ser Anthony grinned.

  He took o puff of cloud weed before hiding it in the pocket of his gambeson.

  “Now you, Yhness.”

  With secret relish, Bram switched his longsword over to his left hand and theed his knight’s salute. This time, Ser Anthourhe gesture.

  Bram then slid his right foot forward, bent his ko lower his ter of gravity, and with his back straightened, raised his longsword over his head.

  “Excellent dispy of the ‘High Guard’ stance,” Ser Anthony nodded approvingly. “Now, remember, as you deliver a cut or thrust to your oppo, your lower body must move to gee the power necessary for a single decisive blow — that is the basics of the Peerless Heart Sword.”

  “To sy a foe with a sirike,” Bram recalled.

  Ser Anthony nodded. “Now, let us begin.”

  With that decration, their csh of steel began.

  Bram wasn’t sure which of them moved to cim that first strike, but he did remember that Ser Anthony’s sword was heavy when it cshed against his to the point that Bram’s hand protested at the weight of blog such a heavy blow.

  “You don’t fight like an old man,” the prince hissed through gritted teeth.

  “Age is never an excuse to lose in strength to a sapling who’s barely grown hair on his ,” Ser Anthony taunted back.

  That did it.

  Bram, who was a little sensitive about his ck of facial hair, a look worn by the fashionable gentlemen of the imperium, couldn’t help flexing the muscles of his sword arm some more as he and Ser Anthony exged one savage sword blow after ahough Bram was bigger, and his swings were getting heavier, Ser Anthony mao parry each attack with the finesse and skill of a celebrated swordmaster.

  “Here’s more advice”—Ser Anthony slid to the left, dodging the downward swing of Bram’s bde a mere half-sed before it could cut him—“don’t be so predictable!”

  “I thought bei-handed”—Bram stopped his momentum mid-swing, and with a talent that would have been praised in a nd where sorcery wasn’t a dominant power, twisted his wrist a full one-hundred-ay degrees to send his bde careening horizontally into Ser Anthony’s path—“already made me uable!”

  ‘g!’

  The seneschal’s longsword—a masterfully crafted bde with a golden griffin’s hilt gifted only to members of the Sn Guard—easily parried the prince’s surprise attack as if he’d been expeg it. With a deft swish of his wrist, Ser Anthony slid Bram’s sword to the side and then tered with a riposte aimed at his prince’s neck.

  Years of avoiding food thrown his way by bullies hiding in the dark gave Bram the kind of danger sehat helped him avoid getting grazed on the neck. He pulled his head out of the way at the st sed and bounced right bato atack that Ser Anthony dodged again.

  “I’ve mentiohis many times now—”

  He slid to the side of Bram who’d overextended himself.

  “—but choosing tthen your body as a means to ter sorcery—”

  With Bram’s side exposed, Ser Anthony stepped forward, bringing himself bato striking distance.

  “—was an excellent choice!” He raised his sword high. “It makes you harder to—”

  ‘g!’

  Sparks flew as steel cshed against steel.

  Once more, Bram’s instincts kept him from losing. Not the instinct to dodge, but to throw himself into the attack regardless of the possibility that Ser Anthony would hit him first.

  “Brilliant!” Ser Anthony roared. “You nearly caught me off guard.”

  They locked swords, each of them pushing back against the other.

  “You seem to be mistaking the point of…” It took Bram a sed to recall the words Bridget had taught him yesterday. “…trash talking, Ser Anthony!”

  “A knight should oop to the vulgarity of lesser men, Yhness!” Ser Anthony chided.

  “Fuck civility,” Bram growled, “I want to win!”

  To defeat a former member of the Sn Guard—and one as highly decorated as Ser Anthony—would be a tall order, but the prince was nothing if not stubborn. Also, sineither of them wielded sorcery, Bram hoped the handicap Ser Anthony gave him would give him the edge he needed for a single decisive blow.

  He used his ogrish strength to push back against his seneschal’s one-armed parry and blew Ser Anthony’s bde away. This gave Bram an opening to un attack, although he suspected it was an advaoo easily given. Still, despite the possibility of a trap, Bram leaped forward anyway. With his longsword t over his head, he sent his right foot frinding it into the stone floor with a hard stomp—and thehe spring of force climbing up his body to empower a ssh meant to cut Ser Anthony in twain.

  “Gaah!”

  Despite his age, Ser Anthony still proved quicker than Bram. The prince felt the crushing blow of a sword pommel smag him i just before he could plete his swing. The blow pushed him back, but his stubbornness kept him from falling to his khough he was left gasping for breath and too stuo fix his stance.

  “That st attack…” The ers of Ser Anthony’s mouth twitched. “…You attempted to use the Peerless Heart Sword’s first teique?”

  “Even without…magic…it’s still…a powerful…teique…”

  A pleased smile spread across the seneschal’s face.

  “Lady Rowan tells me your unique brand of sorcery allows you to duplicate another person’s abilities for a short time.”

  “Rowan…talks too much…”

  Again, Bram looked to the side, and again, he saw the trickster’s taunting grin. Only, there was something else mixed in her expression of challenge. Bram wasn’t sure, but he thought he could see pride in the glint of her gaze.

  “But she’s right…” Bram faced forward. “The greater the people arouhe greater I too bee…I think.”

  “Then you are fortuo have me by your side.”

  From the way Ser Anthony raised his sword over his head, Bram guessed his seneschal wasn’t talking about ‘Status Emution’ but the ‘Ability Replication’ the prince had never used before.

  “I see.”

  “As I’ve said,” the telltale sparks of magic exploded from the tips of Ser Anthony’s fingers, “you cat quickly.”

  The seneschal’s sword shook as a sliver of magic seeped into its bde.

  “Phoebus’—”

  Before Bram’s very eyes, a pale blue aura—like the first rays of sunlight appearing over the horizon to banish the night—ed around Ser Anthony’s bde, enveloping it in sorcery Bram had only heard about iales often told about the celebrated champions of the Imperium.

  “—cock…”

  This was the ‘Sword Aura’ that maed one’s will upon the world, expressed in vivid color by Ser Anthony’s sorcery.

  “Allow me to demonstrate it properly so that you may use your ability to copy it.”

  “Ser Anthony…”

  ALERT! An opportunity has arisen for you to replicate an ability.The Loom’s notification arrived for Bram as if the system resonated with Ser Anthony’s wish.

  Would you like to use [Ability Replication Lv.1] on [Ser Anthony Holmes]?YESNOBram’s heart ached when he said, “This feels wrong…”

  “Yhness,” Ser Anthony frowned, “only a fool would be hesitant to py with the gifts the gods give us…and I didn’t help raise a fool.”

  Bram fli the reprimand for it happened so rarely.

  “Do what you must with whatever means is avaible to you until you achieve what you want the way you want to do it!”

  “I…I see.” Bram felt suffitly admonished. “You’re right…”

  Bram wao make Ser Anthony’s teique his without aid from the Loom, but this was an impossible proposition. For now, at least.

  “Replicate.”

  As he said the magic word—the third intation he’s learned—Bram felt his eyes grow suddenly hot. It wasn’t painful exactly, but a strange pressure in his irises made staring unfortable.

  Ser Anthony couldn’t hide his delight at seeing his prince perform sorcery for the first time. “Now, let me show you just how proud of you I am.”

  ‘Ba-dump.’

  Bram could hear a familiar beating. Weak at first but increasing in pitd tempo with each passing sed. He knew from his lessons with his seneschal that this ‘drumming’ was the anthem of one’s determination to cut the world with a swrowing from one’s heart.

  ‘Ba-dump!’

  Ser Antho his lead foot stomping forward—causing cracks to appear where his boot smmed against the stone—and thehe spring of force climbing up his body to empower a ssh meant to cut the world in twain.

  “Death from Above.”

  With a thunderous boom, Ser Anthony’s sword came swinging down in a cut so quick that Bram barely caught its motion. The sight of such overwhelming swordsmanship se and pain ng up Bram’s eyes so that he had to grit his teeth to keep from screaming.

  ‘Krak-ka-boom!’

  Bright blue Aura desded from on high like a lightning bolt slig through air ah at tremendous speed. It zipped past Bram’s left side faster thae from his dreams and cut everything in its path like a blue line drawn across space.

  There was a ‘Crash!’ and then the howling wind stilled.

  “Bloody hell…”

  Bram gnced over his shoulder.

  “Sorcery offers such a ridiculous advantage…”

  A k of stone had been carved from the thick stone wall behind him. His face shoh delight at the sight of it. It was a delight that was quick to pass, however, for Bram felt sudden nausea overwhelm him, and then he was on his knees and puking blood on the cracked floor.

  ‘Ping!’

  ALERT! You have successfully replicated the ability [Peerless Heart Sword 1st Teique: Death from Above]! Half of your HP was ed to achieve this feat.That’s when Bram realized why pain wracked his body. To activate ‘Ability Replication’, the Loom had used his health as a substitute for his g magic.

  “Y-Yhness!”

  Bram raised his hand to keep his seneschal from rushing over.

  “I’m…fine.”

  As if to prove his words, he rose back to his feet on shaky legs.

  “My abilities…”Bram grimaced, his teeth smeared in blood. “It’s like wielding blood magic…”

  “I…I see…” Though he stayed where he was, worry and doubt filled Ser Anthony’s face. “Perhaps we should—”

  “No!”

  Bram straightened his back.

  “You were right…the first time.” Bram wiped the blood smearing his lips with the sleeve of his shirt. “I must prove…my worth.”

  ABILITY:Ability Replication Lv.1TYPE:ActiveDESCRIPTION:Allows you to replicate the abilities and spells of your chosen target. Each spell or ability you replicate be used o 100% potend without dey and then erased from your pool of stored abilities. With your current resources, you replicate an ability or spell once a day, use them immediately, or store them for ter use.SAVED ABILITIES:1/5COOLDOWN:24 HoursWhile uanding the current limitations of his new ability, Bram raised his sword high over his head, perfectly replig his seneschal’s earlier stance.

  ‘Ba-dump.’

  “It might not be today…” ale sparks of magic exploded from Bram’s fiips. Instead, he felt the familiar sticky sensation of blood beginning to coat his fingers. “But one day…”

  ‘Ba-dump.’

  His longsword shook slightly as a sliver of magio, his blood—began seeping into the steel of his bde.

  ‘Ba-dump!’

  “I will show you this teique again…”

  “Blessed June…”

  Before the seneschal’s widening eyes, veins of pulsing blood spread upward, enveloping Bram’s bde in a dark crimson aura.

  ‘Ba-dump!!’

  “And when I do,” Bram fshed his seneschal a blood-smeared grin, “it shall be dohout the aid of the Loom.”

  ‘Ba-dump!!!’

  As Bram stepped forward, his sword came crashing down to draw a vertical line of crimson against the world…

  GD_Cruz