Deus Necros

The Black Tower Academy’s training grounds had changed since Ludwig had last used them as a student. The targets were newer, several stone platforms had been rebuilt, and somebody had finally replaced the cracked warding pillars along the eastern side of the arena.

The students were different too, though far too many were pretending they had come here for reasons other than watching him. They gathered along the perimeter, sitting on the elevated benches or standing behind the warding line. Several older students had abandoned their own training, while the younger ones whispered loudly enough that Ludwig could follow most of their conversations.

One boy claimed Ludwig had killed a Usurper, then failed to name which one when his companion asked. Someone farther back insisted he had killed several.

That version came closer to the truth, but Ludwig ignored them. Being watched was hardly new anymore. It simply felt stranger here, where he remembered studying people stronger than himself and wondering how long it would take to reach their level.

Apparently, the answer had been less time than expected and considerably more suffering than advertised.

Across from him, Joanna rested the flat of her curved greatsword against one shoulder. She looked much as he remembered, though Ludwig no longer trusted his judgment of age. Too many of his acquaintances treated centuries as inconvenient gaps between conversations.

Her handling of the sword remained familiar. She held it comfortably, without the slightest stiffness in her shoulders, yet Ludwig knew how quickly that apparent ease could disappear.

”Are you ready?” she asked. ”You seemed willing enough when I suggested a spar.”

”I was bored,” Ludwig said. ”Hitting something sounded better than standing around, though you’re welcome to reconsider.”

”That might be the rudest reason anyone has ever given me.” Joanna smiled and lifted the sword from her shoulder. ”Draw your weapon before you make it worse.”

Ludwig reached into his inventory. He considered Nightbreaker for approximately half a second, then imagined what swinging the mace would do to an academy training ground.

Using it here would be like rolling a siege engine into a tavern because someone had challenged him to arm wrestling. Nightbreaker was suited to problems that required excessive force from the beginning, and Joanna had asked for a spar.

His hand closed around a more familiar grip, and Durandal appeared.

The students became louder again. Ludwig glanced along the blade, remembering how long he had owned it. Before the living metal, before the Dark Continent, and before most of the stranger weapons he had accumulated, there had been Durandal.

It had served him as both sword and scythe, and he knew its weight well enough to use it with restraint. The Weight of the World still made it far heavier than an ordinary weapon, even without Ludwig deliberately increasing the effect. Most of the students watching would have struggled to lift it properly with both hands.

He held it in one.

Joanna noticed, though her attention soon moved along the blade. ”You’re keeping it as a sword? I thought you might prefer the scythe by now.”

”You taught me swordsmanship,” Ludwig replied. ”It would be rude to bring a scythe to the reunion.”

”You agreed to fight me because you were bored, but that is where you draw the line.” She laughed as she lowered her greatsword into position. ”At least you’ve retained some manners.”

The conversations around the arena faded as Ludwig recognized her stance.

Imperial Swordsmanship had never been the most elegant discipline in Ikos, nor the fastest or most unusual. Its value lay in principles that worked just as well beside another swordsman as they did alone. Stable footing kept a fighter from breaking formation, controlled attacks directed an opponent toward the next blade, and heavy commitments came only when someone could cover the opening.

Palace guards, military officers, and Imperial knights all learned some version of it. The foundations were simple enough to teach an entire company, but mastering them required far more than memorizing a few forms.

Ludwig had once thought Joanna’s command of the discipline was incredible. He still respected it, though he could see its restrictions now.

She attacked with a high cut, moving quickly enough to draw a gasp from the students nearest the wards. Ludwig stepped left, letting the blade pass within inches of his face.

Joanna began her second strike before the first had finished.

He remembered that sequence. Avoiding the opening cut placed an opponent directly in the path of the next, punishing the most obvious response. The first time she had demonstrated it, Ludwig had walked straight into the trap.

Now he turned his wrist and moved Durandal a few inches.

Steel rang across the training grounds. Joanna’s greatsword stopped against his blade, her arms tightening as she tried to carry the attack through. Ludwig had not even finished settling his feet.

Durandal barely shifted.

Joanna abandoned the pressure immediately and stepped back. Ludwig lowered his sword as she glanced between him and the weapon.

”You can stop that with one hand now,” she said. ”I take it you’ve been finding stronger opponents.”

”Some of them were the size of buildings. You become motivated to improve when the alternative is being stepped on.”

A few students laughed nervously. Joanna adjusted her grip, her smile widening.

”Then I suppose you won’t object if I make this a little more demanding.”

”Go ahead,” Ludwig said. ”I assumed you were warming up.”

That earned him a look before aura ignited along her greatsword. The warding formation brightened, and several students leaned away from the sudden pressure.

Joanna crossed the distance so quickly that some of them lost sight of her. Ludwig followed her movement and brought Durandal across his body to meet the cut from his right.

The collision threw aura outward, carving a shallow line through the stone. Joanna used the recoil to change direction, striking again before the dust had settled. Ludwig blocked, turned aside the third attack, and caught the next as she rotated her hips to bring the greatsword around.

Her pace increased.

The Imperial forms looked very different in the hands of someone who had spent decades refining them. Cuts flowed into thrusts, retreats offered openings that vanished when Ludwig might have entered them, and every recovery prepared another attack. Aura extended past the physical blade, giving Joanna an edge he had to account for even when the steel itself fell short.

Ludwig kept Durandal in one hand.

The swords rang repeatedly, each impact scattering dust from the growing marks in the floor. Joanna pressed him with a heavy diagonal cut, and Ludwig angled Durandal to let the attack slide away. Her aura struck the ground and opened a gouge several meters long.

Someone behind the warding line cursed. Another student whispered that Ludwig was not even moving.

He was moving, though considerably less than Joanna wanted. A half-step took him outside one attack. A turn of the wrist changed the angle of another. He could read the shift in her shoulder before the blade followed and recognize when her footing prevented her from committing fully.

Once, those details would have escaped him. Since then, he had fought creatures with many arms, monsters faster than horses, and entities that continued attacking after losing limbs. The Usurpers had forced him to survive things that ordinary combat lessons could barely have prepared him to understand.

Against all of that, a familiar sword style had become easier to read.

Joanna feinted toward his shoulder and thrust beneath his guard. Ludwig turned the point aside, then met the cut she delivered while withdrawing. She stepped beyond his reach and finally stopped.

The audience had fallen silent.

Joanna rolled one shoulder as she studied him. ”You look disappointed. If this is your attempt to spare an old teacher’s feelings, you can stop.”

Ludwig frowned and glanced at Durandal. ”I’m remembering the first time you showed me that three-strike sequence. I thought it was ridiculously fast.”

”And now you can watch me perform it without much trouble.” Her grip shifted on the greatsword. ”You’ll forgive me if that sounds a little like pity.”

”I can see why each attack happens now. I know where you want me to move and which opening you’re preparing to punish.” Ludwig met her eyes. ”It’s strange to remember how little I understood while you were teaching me. That doesn’t mean I pity you.”

Her expression softened, though she raised the greatsword again.

”Good. Pity can make you careless, and you’ve survived too much to start indulging it now.”

”So can arrogance,” Ludwig said, a faint smile returning.

”Then you’ll appreciate the reminder.” Joanna settled her feet. ”Experience helps only when you understand what you’re experiencing.”

She disappeared.

Ludwig’s smile vanished with her. There was no blur to follow, no movement he had failed to match. One moment Joanna stood several meters away, and the next he could find nothing where she had been.

His eyes swept across the arena as his senses reached outward.

The edge of her greatsword settled against the side of his neck.