The Dragonfly and The Sword

Part 20: Rooms and Doors

Stephon never fancied the girls in his town. They annoyed him with their idle chatter. Sure, a few were nice to look at, but they giggle too much when he walked by. Sometimes, he just stood there waiting for his father to sell the latest harvest, and the silly girls would be giggling while staring at him. The attention unnerved him. His mother said he'd like the attention later on. Stephon always hoped she would be wrong, because he figured there had to be more interesting things to do with his time.

Princess Amnicity and Lady Elry did not annoy him like typical girls. Lady Toria sometimes did, but that's because she complained about wrinkles in her dress, the shade of her shoe, and so on. Sometimes it made sense. He liked the clothes she made. So, he figured Lady Toria had to have a reason to complain. Like when his father did not like the angle the plow made in the dirt.

Unfortunately, this had changed the moment Princess Amnicity became betrothed to Suzerain Zakarus. Since that day, Stephon had learned things no young man should. Like how the pattern of lace dictated the attractiveness of a lady's figure. Lady Toria said the knowledge would increase his attractiveness when it came time for him to make a match. Stephon doubted Lady Toria knew how peasants made a match.

To avoid gaining further useless knowledge, Stephon devoted his time to training. His actions pleasantly escaped Lady Elry's notice. She now spent much of her time lecturing Princess Amnicity upon the customs of Jude on any chance she could get. This left Stephon to spend his time distracted by fabrics, sleeping, or with Jace. Currently, Jace laid on the side of the training room, staring at the reflections of light playing upon the ceiling with wonder. Jace's silence made it easier for Stephon to mimic the form he memorized when watching High General Ettore train the guards that morning.

High General Ettore was a pleasant man. Stephon had been scared when High General Ettore caught him training one evening. He had immediately dropped the sword and prepared himself for whatever verbal, or physical, chiding would follow. The high general did not chastise him. Instead, High General Ettore demanded he pick up his sword and try again. After watching him for a few minutes, the high general offered to let Stephon watch training if he provided the soldier with water or towels. The arrangement benefited Stephon more than High General Ettore, and they shared a secret smile when shaking hands upon it.

"Just make sure that you always keep keen eye upon the detail," High General Ettore winked that morning, accepting his towel.

Stephon did. He remembered the high general's long diatribe about form. So, Stephon now stood before the mirror watching the height of his elbow, while concentrating on providing small movements with his wrist. Stephon moved his feet towards a lunge with a smirk.

"Your feet are too far apart," an unfamiliar voice called from the doorway.

"Pardon?" Stephon quickly bowed, instantly dropping the sword to the ground. "I did not know the space had been booked for training. I will vacate immediately."

"Vacate?" the voice laughed. "Is there a reason you are not supposed to be here?"

Stephon looked up to see the smirking face of Suzerain Zakarus before him.

"My birth makes me unfit to hold a sword."

"Ah, birth," Zakarus commented, leaning back upon his heels. "I hear the place and rank of birth matters much amongst your people."

"It does."

"Well, then it is fortunate you are soon to be amongst my people where everything must be earned. Though, dropping your sword would not be a good place to start. Pick it up. Let me see the move again with your feet adjusted. That is better."