For the first time in the qualifiers, Suyin didn’t bother dragging the duel out. She had done so earlier only because there was little reason not to. She might as well make something of what she considered a wasted few weeks. Master Faleryn had hauled her into this tournament, and while there might be rewards to reap should she climb high enough, she wouldn’t have participated had it been her decision.
There were, unfortunately, a number of tedious logistics to get through—she couldn’t show up and win instantly. She waited for the minute to arrive, then for both her and her opponent to enter the arena, and finally for the overseer to introduce them and read out the rules.
When the fight was at last imminent, Suyin bowed to her opponent. “This disciple would not presume that she is your superior without having seen you fight, but she intends to end the match quickly, as she has business to attend to. She hopes you don’t take her haste as a sign of disrespect.”
The older woman, who seemed like a mage by her robes and staff, received Suyin’s opening words better than many would have. She raised an eyebrow and adjusted her grip on the length of dark wood.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” came the bemused response.
“Are both participants ready?” the overseer asked.
Affirmations followed; he counted them down, and when he called “Begin,” Suyin appeared in front of the woman. She swept the mage’s feet from underneath her—breaking a mana shield in the process—and slammed her back-first into the ground. In less than a quarter of a second, the tip of her sword hovered at her opponent’s neck.
Suyin glanced at the overseer.
There was a moment of stunned silence, then he called the duel in her favor. Suyin helped the mage up. She thought about thanking her for the bout but chose not to. While it would’ve been standard courtesy, she used her best judgment to skip the formality. The woman might take the words as mockery.
“Best of luck in your future matches,” she offered instead, hoping the more neutral phrasing avoided rubbing salt in the wound.
After retrieving her card with an updated win-loss record from the overseer, she headed for Vianora’s arena. Their matches had been scheduled close together, hence Suyin’s urgency. Indeed, when she arrived at the ring’s outskirts, the golden-haired elf’s duel had already begun.
Suyin hurried over to the spectator stands.
Vianora’s fights were always odd; Suyin would’ve been tempted to observe them even without their current arrangement. Where Suyin had stretched out these low-level matches to be courteous to her opponents, Vianora clearly had another goal in prolonging the bouts. She exchanged no words with her partners, neither encouraging, instructive, nor mocking—not that Suyin would expect the last from Vianora. The elf seemed aloof but not rude. Her disapproval of Master Faleryn’s behavior made that preference clear.
And her approval of mine, I suppose. Suyin was glad she’d been forgiven for that blurted-out insult from earlier, especially as she learned more about how skilled the elf truly was. Patient, fearless, controlled, and surprisingly wise. In every way except the blade, she’s more of a Sword Saint than Master.
Not that exceeding Master in peripheral qualities was any great feat. Most children could manage it.
As Vianora fought, Suyin at first couldn’t unravel the intent of what she was watching. But she’d also learned to expect that, and so she studied the woman carefully and withheld her judgment.
By some measures, Vianora had improved a lot. In routine movements such as how to approach or withdraw while holding her sword at the ready, her footwork and posture had become—in a single session—as clean as Suyin’s own.
Because the elf was copying Suyin. Perfectly.
But their practice had only lasted thirty minutes. They had covered very little when the art at hand held infinite depth. Suyin had demonstrated a fraction of what made up the Path of the Sword, and only her understanding of her fork on that Path.
Point being, whenever Vianora could no longer rely on the ‘training’ she had received, she fell back onto her own style.
…meaning a return to awkward gracelessness.
The blend of pristine movements and clumsy ones honestly offended a part of Suyin’s sensibilities. However, the more she scrutinized and contemplated, the more insight she started to glean.
There is a saying, Suyin mused, that all masters are alike, but every novice is awful in their own way. Approaching an ideal constrains you. There are far more manners of doing something wrong than there are right.
The capability to mimic so accurately the unique style of an amateur… was it not its own sign of mastery, as clear as unveiling a long-honed technique?
Suyin didn’t think she could have done the same, after all. The errors she made would be too obvious, too obviously pursuing what she knew as ‘bad swordsmanship.’ Since it required knowing what was right to do what was wrong, her resulting mimicry would be transparent. Or if not that, she would slip up in some crucial but innocuous manner as she fell back on her training. Even Master had admitted he probably couldn’t hide his skill, not from the eyes of someone who was his peer.
So how much time had it taken for Vianora to create this ‘beginner style?’ And for what purpose had she done so?
Or perhaps the effort had come naturally. Suyin had already seen the incredible control the elf possessed over her own body. Perhaps that skill extended to other domains, domains even her master couldn’t claim expertise in.
Maybe Vianora was doing this on a whim and this subterfuge had been the work of an afternoon. Suyin still didn’t know how powerful and accomplished the elf was.
Is it the difference between a true genius of the sword, and me?
The thought was a little despairing, but she pushed it away. She focused on how exciting the opportunity was, learning from someone who probably wasn’t Master’s equal, but still a swordswoman of deep acumen. Seeing how Suyin hadn’t expected this tournament to yield anything deserving of her attention, she was twice as pleased by the abrupt turn of fortune.
More salient to her mission—that of training Vianora and being trained in turn—was the mismatch between the masterful and amateurish movements, which she now contemplated.
What is she trying to tell me?
She puzzled over the topic for several minutes. A theory had begun brewing in the back of her skull since the start, but when the thought solidified, it felt like a revelation striking her.
Of course.
Nothing of worth can be built on an unsteady foundation—I told her that. But the strongest foundations are still useless when there is nothing built atop them.
It didn’t matter how perfect a swordswoman’s footwork and posture were when she didn’t know how, when, or whether to swing her sword. The truth of that had never been clearer, given the display in front of her.
But… from their exchanges earlier, Vianora would only perform movements that Suyin demonstrated beforehand. The complete lack of progress in the elf’s general swordsmanship made that apparent.
So then what? Fights were far too dynamic for Suyin to exhibit every maneuver a swordswoman might need—much less in their limited training time. They might share a few sessions scattered over the following weeks, and perhaps not even that.
Does she expect me to simplify? To break down an infinite art into as few moves as possible?
From a certain perspective, polishing the edges of a sacred art felt sacrilegious. At the same time, mastery was all about trimming the wasteful. The concept existed in other disciplines too. One of the most beautiful paintings Suyin had ever seen had been a crane rendered in six brush strokes.
To capture the essence of something with as little as possible…
Even still, the breadth of swordsmanship remained too vast. A style, any style, took years of training, not weeks. No matter how far she reduced the art down.
Is that true, or am I assuming it to be?
She shook her head as she remembered something.
This is just an exercise, she scolded inwardly. When she needs to take fights seriously, I’m sure she will. But for now, she’s faster and stronger than almost every other person in this tournament. Knowing that allows me to take liberties with how I ‘train’ her.
No, Suyin didn’t need to develop a true style of swordsmanship, a proper branch off the Path. Rather… a clean, tight set of instructions, like a mage might inscribe onto a golem. If this, then that. When that, then this. But for a swordswoman—where every possible movement had been demonstrated in advance, so that Vianora could emulate each one exactly.
Could all fights be broken down in such a way? Assuming a massive speed and strength difference, it felt within the realm of possibility.
The sheer fascination Suyin found in the idea told her she’d arrived upon what Vianora wanted from her.
I also need to integrate her techniques. That complicated the task. She knew next to nothing about Vianora’s strange black-and-violet magic, beyond that it nullified abilities, that there was little variation in how it manifested, and that she projected it from her sword. Furthermore, the weapon itself seemed to be enchanted with similar magic.
Suyin’s thoughts lingered on the foreign sorcery. She had never seen anything like it. Not that such a thing was too surprising. She had called the Path of the Sword an infinite pursuit earlier, but the depths of the arcane stretched further still. Master had told her many stories of esoteric magics she never would have believed were real.
Honestly, the bigger curiosity was why her apprentice only used elemental spells. Why was Vianora training the girl in neither the sword, nor her unique branch of magic?
Vianora’s fight concluded faster than Suyin wanted. Even divorced from the thought experiment, the peculiar style on display was intriguing.
After leaving the ring, the elf walked over to her.
“Congratulations on the victory.” It felt absurd to say, since Suyin knew Vianora was at least Titled and had been up against a silver-rank. But unlike the standard courtesy from earlier, there was no way to misinterpret the statement, so she followed the social norm.
“Thank you. Yours went well too, I hope?”
“It did.”
“That’s good. Did I put your lessons to proper use?”
Suyin considered the question with the gravity it deserved. A long moment passed as she picked her response carefully, sorting through the insights she had gained and distilling them down.
“Yes. This disciple understands what she needs to address next. However important a foundation is, what we build upon it matters just as much. Groundwork means nothing alone. But the Path of the Sword is too wide and deep to impart in a few short lessons. For you, then, we would need a condensed style. A structural way of approaching every encounter. That is how we could teach you”—she emphasized the word as the joke it was—“in a mere few sessions. That is what this disciple has taken away from your bout.”
Vianora observed her in stony silence. Suyin suppressed the urge to fiddle. She wasn’t someone who grew intimidated easily, but the only swordmaster she had trained under was Master Faleryn, and they had long ago left behind the awkwardness of unfamiliarity. Vianora's never-yielding blank expression didn’t help either.
“Very well,” the elf said at last.
Suyin hesitated. The neutral response made her doubt herself. Maybe it was too much to hope for, getting direct confirmation. At least acceptance is a form of validation.
She bowed. “This disciple thanks you for humoring her strategy.”
“I’m the one who should be doing the thanking. I’m the student, after all.”
Suyin’s eyebrows rose in surprise. She contemplated the words. That’s true. We’re both students in this. For some reason, she hadn’t considered how Vianora might be benefiting from the exchange. Suyin had heard many times that the act of teaching deepened one’s understanding—which she herself was experiencing now, in an unorthodox way. Vianora was gleaning some deeper comprehension of her path too. They were both disciples and both masters this day.
“Mutual gratitude, then,” Suyin conceded. “Shall we continue where we left off?”
“My apprentice’s bout is starting soon,” Vianora said. “But yes. After.”
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