“Excellent matches today!”
“Well done!”
“Masterful! Just masterful!”
The praise flowed in from all around, causing the chest to puff out a bit, the back to straighten more, and the grin to get wider and wider. The young knight-to-be strode down the hall, his shoulders more sore from the congratulatory pats on the back than from his bouts, but he still reveled in the glory of his victories.
“Whelp Terync.” The voice was unmistakable, as was the fact that the hallway was very suddenly very empty of any other student.
The young man’s shoulders beginning to slowly sag, and his smile faded. He turned and saw the youngest of the instructors leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Master Klem,” Terync called out politely.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at attention when you address me?”
Terync fought his body’s immediate response to stiffen up, but Klem still noticed the slight movement of Terync’s muscles that indicated he got the response he was fishing for. “Master Ogran gave us Knight’s privileges for the day, on account of the…”
“Ah yes,” Klem said, waving his hand dismissively. “I suppose someone as old and fat as Ogran would have trouble telling skill from luck.” He peeled himself off the wall in a snake-like fashion, his lean body fairly rippling with the movement.
Klem was an anomaly when it came to the Citadel’s hierarchy of teachers. At the top were the chief instructors, a tier generally made up of retired Dragon Knights. These individuals were in this esteemed position having earned the right to retire to a life of relative ease in a place where they would also have the opportunity to share their considerable life experiences with the younger generation.
The chief instructors were assisted in their daily courses by the training staff, dozens of able-bodied men and women that often serve as sparring partners, grooms, pages, graders, and any other such requirement foisted on them by the chief instructors.
Klem had the unique distinction of being the youngest of the chief instructors, at more than twenty years younger than the next oldest instructor and almost forty years younger than Master Ogran, the oldest and highest ranked of the chief instructors. He also elected to have no teaching staff in his program, preferring instead to handle all of the minutiae himself, especially the sparring.
He was, in fact, only three years past getting his spurs, and just five years Terync’s senior. His field of instruction was unarmed combat and for excellent reason. During his entire tenure as a trainee, he held an undefeated record, even against the instructors and every member of the training staff he was pitted against.
“I dare say it was more than luck,” Terync retorted. Talking back in such a manner to Master Klem was generally a bad idea, but Terync was a bit upset at having his victory celebration completely ruined by the man’s very presence.
“And I disagree. Had your opponent in your second match wished to, she could have snapped your arm like a twig when you took the high grip. She didn’t see it though,” Klem shrugged, “nor did she see the other two openings you mistakenly left her, so I call that a lucky break.”
Terync’s face turned a shade of light pink. He knew that particular match could have gone very differently for exactly the reason Klem had pointed out. However, what made him angrier was the idea that he had committed two additional errors and he had no idea what they were. He certainly wasn’t going to ask about them either.
Klem continued, “Couple that with Sylvester being your draw for the third round, and with Borys and Nytasha double disqualifying out, and you essentially had a series of byes that carried you through the middle bouts.”
“Thank you, sir,” Terync said through gritted teeth. It was the politest thing he could think to say. He then waited patiently for Klem to get to the reason why he was here, as the instructor was not known for making social calls.
“All in all,” Klem said, “your unit was a disgrace. We’ll address that next week though.” He took a step towards the side door leading out of the barracks and stopped, turning to face Terync.
“The Commandant wants to see you.” Klem said casually, as if discussing the weather with a stranger. He turned to look down the long hallway and raised his voice considerably, “Knight’s privileges have been revoked! As you were Whelps!”