Paeder knew that his sword had not fallen an inch. His eyes narrowed at the arms master's shouts, but he dared not even glance in that direction. His eyes were only for his older brother, Galad, who was closing on him with the ****y grin of a combatant who knows he will win. The younger brother simply matched that grin with his own look of fierce determination and muttered, "Bring it." Ignoring the fire racing from his wrists to his shoulders, Paeder brought his two handed practice sword around to parry his larger opponents first blow.
Around and around Galad and his attack went while Paeder remained fixed in one spot shifting only to keep facing his brother. Every thrust of Galad's practice longsword was parried by the lead filled wooden sword of his brother. Occasionally Paeder's sword would arrive a fraction of a second too late leaving a mark that would add to the collection of bruises, but no matter how hard the blow, no matter how fierce the attack, Galad could not force Paeder from the spot he had chosen to root himself in.
Balric, the sword master, would sporadically shout out instructions to one of the two boys, but for the most part he simply let them spar. The real instruction would come later when he sparred them individually. Then he would exploit the faults he was making a mental note of now. With a rueful shake of the head, Balric thought again about how difficult that was becoming. In two years at the most Galad would be his match. And Paeder although Paeder was barely fifteen he could already hold his own against most full grown men. The boy had grown nearly six inches this past year. His only true fault was that he could not adapt to his growing body. Balric had convinced the boys parents to send him to Skorgen where he could be trained by the best. On his sixteenth birthday, that is where he is going.
As the two boys continued their sparring Tesric, one of the household servants, appeared at the entrance to the yard and bowed his head respectfully. After ignoring him for about a minute, Balric signed for him to come over. As the boys continued their swordplay, Balric and the servant had a brief conversation on the side. Finally Balric shouted out in his deep baritone, "Enough!"
As Galad began walking away he felt a sharp thwack on his bottom. Surprised and angry, he turned around. Grinning, his brother said, "You dance too much."
Balric roared in laughter. "Aye, he does. And you stand there planted like a tree taking your lumps like a dumb ox."
All four of them were laughing as the boys returned their practice swords and began shedding their pads.
"You boys go ahead with skinny here. I'll clean up the yard and meet you at the Watch."
Balric called everybody skinny who was untrained with the longsword. As the three of them began making their way up the path, the bulky arms master stood at the entrance watching them go. His vision blurred as he grinned watching the two sweat soaked boys pumping the tight lipped servant for information. It wasn't until they were well out of sight that he allowed himself to rub the tears from his eyes and cheek.
"We have a visitor."
"Yes, you've said that already. Will you tell us nothing more?"
Tesric pretended not to hear Galad's question while he watched a hawk circling high over the shore to their west. The three of them were heading a bit more to the northwest than where the bird was hunting. The Watch was a small keep built around a lighthouse at the top of a cliff rising from the violent sea. The Watch was the clan's least profitable holding but it was one of the most important. The ocean's tides tended to push ships close to the treacherous shore in this area and without the Watch, many an unwary captain would shatter his ship along the rocks rising from the water like teeth near the base of the cliff.
"Is it her?" Paeder asked.
He laughed along with Tesric while Galad's face turned a deep red to match his hair.
"You can ask but I cannot say. I am honor bound to stay silent. I'm sure the two of you will find out soon enough."
With that statement the conversation turned to other more innocuous topics. It was dishonorable to try and get a man to break his oath and the McLoren's motto was "Honor Above Everything". So Paeder kept trying to steer the conversation towards Galad's betrothed and Galad tried desperately to turn it in any and every other direction. Tesric gladly played the antagonist stirring up the sibling rivalry with every opening he found. This banter continued all the way up the steep path to The Watch.
Almost as soon as they passed through the thick oak front doors a tall solid blonde man shouted in surprise, crossed the hall in a couple strides, and wrapped Galad in a vice of a hug. After commenting on the boy becoming a man, bruising both his shoulders, and popping his back, this familiar stranger released the poor young man from his friendly torture and turned his attentions toward Paeder. Gripping both the boys shoulders with his meaty hands he said, "And you. You were still holding your mother's skirts and trailing with unsure steps when I last saw you. I've missed all your growing and, aye, there's been plenty of it."
"Wilhelm?" Galad asked hesitantly.
"Aye, its me. The legend in the flesh."
"But you're supposed to be Why?" Galad broke off his question as the answer began to dawn on him. His eyes grew wide in shock as he inadvertently looked toward Paeder. Galad's reaction caused the implications of his cousin's visit to sink in for the younger brother as well.
"But how can that be?" Paeder asked, "I've never shown any signs."
