Elfborn: The Quest

Training

"Well enough, Your Majesty," he finally said, his breath a white plume in the frigid air. It had become even colder after the blizzards finally gave way to winter chill and Guile had instructed his knight-candidates to dress warmly and avoid touching the metal of their armor with any exposed or wet skin until the steel could be properly warmed. It made for awkward going, but at least there were fewer trips to the surgeon to deal with frostbitten skin and the like.

"He improves daily. I wouldn't be surprised if you could take him into battle now and easily win!"

"Is that so, Sir Guile?!" Frederik laughed, clapping a gloved hand onto the big man's shoulder. "Coming from you, that's high praise indeed!"

"Your Majesty." Guile nodded before sighing softly.

"This improvement doesn't please you?" Frederik asked, noting the slumped shoulders and hearing the sigh. "I thought the teacher would be more than happy to see his student learn his lessons so efficiently."

"Indeed, sire, that I do," Guile said with a frown. "But it's almost unnatural the way the boy learns. He can see a movement but once and he's practicing it perfectly the next day! And his mind is a steel trap that takes both the lessons in strategy and tactics as well as his lessons from Father Istir and recites them word for word." He shook his head again, an expression of disbelief on his face.

"Not only that, but he understands it. Like he was born for tactics and strategy. Master Cohen even tells me the lad has suggested tactics that were superior to the ones he knew. That, after only a week of instruction!"

Frederik nodded in understanding, a pleased look on his face behind the heavy muffler he had wrapped around his head to keep in the warmth. He certainly didn't share Guile's misgivings. In fact, the grizzled trainer's report was better than even he, after hearing how Lash dismantled that squad of soldiers before taking out his own uncle, had expected. The young de Marniet was even more talented than he could've imagined! Indeed this Hybernian would carve out a name for Frederik in the history books, with steel and blood.

"Well, well," he said softly with a grin. "Sounds exactly like what I was hoping to hear, Sir Guile. And even a little better!" He gave the big man another hearty slap on the shoulder.

"Perhaps we should give your prodigy a test, yes?" He looked over his other shoulder. "Sir Denis, take your knights and try to bring down de Marniet."

"At once, sire!" The knight that had been standing almost at Frederik's shoulder, said firmly and, with a gesture at those standing behind him, the seven of them hopped the low fence that was used to separate the practice yard from the rest of the compound. Once inside they swiftly moved through the heavy snow towards Lash, who had come to a halt to watch their advance.

When Lash finally looked at Guile with a wondering expression on his face, Guile grimaced.

"Burn me to ash, those knights are going to get hammered!" he muttered under his breath. Then, in a louder voice:

"Best defend yourself, lad. I think those men mean to put you on the ground!"

As the big man expected, Lash merely smiled and nodded.

"Of course, Sir Guile," he called back. "Anything for the king's entertainment!"

Guile visibly winced at that but Frederik merely laughed.

"The boy has wit, yes?" he chuckled, giving Guile yet another smack on his armored shoulder.

"He has much more than that, sire. I'm afraid he might not wait until your knights have positioned themselves before launching his defense! And you'll find him most effective in his counterattack."