Master Swordswoman Pt. 01

And I? As I said before, I was affected more directly than either Alnia or our parents, since I was a member of the local militia.

Our race, due to this war, has been given four main professions: those who fight, those who breed, those who make, and those who teach.

(Well, ok, that doesn't quite work, though I suppose you could say that innkeepers definitely help with the breeding side of things – I know Bymeatonsfield's certainly does!).

I, Kathina Tryndal, was born to fight - for I was Teacher Paynor's best student.

Every large village, town and city in Misiland has a local weapons/martial-arts teacher for training the local populace - both for militia/local defence purposes, and to identify those suitable for greater things early enough to make the best use out of them, with the larger cities also being centres for the local military forces being arrayed to fight the Orcs. And yes, they make no distinction at all between men or women, (or at least, they shouldn't), since we're all involved in this in exactly the same way, we should get treated in exactly the same manner. Men and women may have different strengths and weaknesses, but that's why we're best used together.

I'd had some basic training since the age of six, but only using small wooden practice weapons, which existed to try and get children used to using and thinking about combat before having to make their choice properly at the age of twelve.

On the first day of the year that I reached that age, I was asked to see Teacher Paynor in his house, to make a choice about the weapon I wished to learn to use properly from then on. Such a choice was extremely limited, and for good reason: in the past couple of centuries, our martial arts have been becoming more streamlined, to ensure that everyone is taught as best and as quickly as possible. Because of this, the two main weapons used, both now and then, are the sword and the halberd.

When I reached Teacher Paynor's house, which is also used as an additional armoury, he gave me a choice of a number of actual weapons. There were three halberds standing to the left of his desk, of slightly different lengths, decoration and also in blade shape and size. Lying on his desk were five swords - three longswords, a short sword and a larger bastard sword, with their scabbards next to them.

Although I gazed at and over all of the weapons, it was the short sword that really caught my eye. All of the swords looked fairly simple and plain, which you'd expect for militia weapons in a village such as this; all that is except for the short sword. Its almost pommel-less handle was decorated in a slightly more complicated fashion, with bands of steel and bronze, and with a curved edge on one side of its blade, unlike the others, it was more attractive to my eye. I picked it up and examined it, feeling its weight and balance in my hand, when more young people arrived to choose their own weapons before practice. With that in mind, I quickly grabbed the short sword's scabbard, and sheathed it, facing and nodding to Teacher to make it mine.

Teacher also nodded back at me, with a smile on his face, seemingly happy that I chose this sword instead of a halberd like the rest of my sex tend to favour.

And so his training began…

VI

If I could have accepted my teachers words, his explanations, without question, as any and every other young student had, then I would have left over a year before the start of this story to join the military academy in the city of Evendale - but I couldn't…

I had to question, to know, not just what, but how, and why; just learning by rote was not enough for me. I needed more, and teacher Paynor found it hard to give, so I had taken over twice as much time to learn lessons which everyone else had learnt, though thankfully, I was starting to get closer to learning all that was required. Although I was starting to impress with my skill, and had always done so with my determination, I was still just a member of the local militia, a village guard, a job for those not good enough to join the army, those too badly injured to fight on the front lines, or those lucky enough to survive until they retire.

Deep down, I knew I needed a Master to train me, a teacher-of-teachers, one who understood the most-basic art of Mathan I was learning to its finest degree. But first I had to prove myself worthy of such attention, something none of us thought likely to happen here in Bymeatonsfield, two weeks ride south of the border with the enemy…