The Lufian Family 3

Six years have passed since Win began his training with Marcus. With each day Win has become stronger. He's grown massively more powerful than anyone was prepared for.

Marcus stands in front of the desk of Dagobert to give a routine report on Win's development.

“Young Master Win has recently informed me that he has finished reading every book in the library.”

“Every book? That can't be right. There are more books in there than I could ever want. He's only a twelve year old boy.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny the claims he made, but I promise you that it could very well be true, and that alone is of note.”

“So Win's a genius then?”

“He might very well be so. More than just the library, I've almost run out of things to teach him, with how fast he learns.” Dagobert laughs heartily.

“Perhaps you ought to finish his instruction soon, so that I might be able to coerce you into resting.” Marcus smiles gently.

“Don’t tease an old man like that, Master Dagobert. I'll take a break when I'm good and ready.”

“Marcus, you haven't looked entirely well for quite a while now. If you need rest, I would happily allow it. You've served the family dutifully for so many decades. And I'm not one to reward loyalty with cruelty.”

“Of course not, Master Dagobert. I assure you that all is well.” Dagobert sighs.

“Alright then. You can return to your duties now Marcus, thank you for the report.”

Marcus bows then turns to leave.

Marcus faces Win in the yard. Win, now twelve, almost has the physique to be a real opponent. He has a strong look in his eyes and he glows with vitality. Marcus cannot imagine that he could lose to his peers. He’s sure that he’ll keep growing stronger. Day after day, week after week, Win will get stronger. Marcus knows he’s not the kind to give up, no matter what might happen. Marcus draws his sword, then passes one to Win with a toss. Win unsheathes it, shocked to see metal.

“Marcus, this is a real blade.”

“Indeed it is, Young Master. You progressed far faster than anyone could have expected. There’s only one thing left for you to learn, but I cannot teach it to you so simply. Fight me, Young Master. I’ll fight back for real.”

“Today… I’ll beat you.”

“I hope you can, Young Master.”

Without another word Win dashes forward. He slashes quickly, but Marcus stops it without flinching. He smiles at Win. He slips his sword free of Win’s, leaving him off balance. He stabs at Win. It collides strongly against his stomach. As Win recoils from the blow, he grimaces. He realizes that Marcus is still holding back, still using a dulled blade. He should have known, of course, that Marcus would never harm his master, but even still it frustrates him.

Win charges forward in a straight line once more. At the end of his charge he maneuvers behind Marcus. He tries another slash against his exposed back, but still he parries it. Without even looking behind him, Marcus stabs at Win again. The blow is weaker this time, owing to the poor positioning, but it still serves to aggravate Win.

Win next tries an overhead slash, but as he brings it down, Marcus turns halfway and grabs the blade in the air. He jabs his blade into Win’s stomach once more, this time knocking him to the ground. Win grits his teeth. He rises once more, and he begins to discard thoughts of anything but victory. When his mind is empty, he approaches once more.

His slashes are sharp and fast. No longer does he allow Marcus to control his blade. He tries to become overwhelming, and Marcus does not move to stop him. He keeps slamming their swords together, the clang of metal loud in the air with each strike. Marcus still has a gentle smile on his face as he watches. When Win looks at his expression, he realizes that even still Marcus was holding out. He could break free at any moment.

However, Marcus coughs suddenly. It’s only a small opening, but it’s an opening nonetheless. Win stabs forward. His sword purposefully grazes against Marcus’ cheek. Marcus seems to regain his focus and posture as he feels the sting on his face. He seems startled, then his face changes to a look of contentment. He smiles with a pure, unfiltered joy at Win.

“Well, it appears you have come out triumphant, Young Master.” Win is more irritated than ever.

“I didn’t win. I didn’t win at all! I haven’t surpassed you in a single thing!”

“Now, Young Master, a victory is a victory, no matter the circumstances by which you come by it.”

“This wasn’t a fight! It was a test! And I know I should have failed! I refuse! Whatever you want to teach me, I refuse to learn it! Let’s go again!” Marcus has an even more intense coughing fit.

“I cannot, Young Master. I’m sure I only have a single slash left in me now.”

“Then rest! I’ll challenge you again tomorrow!”

“Young Master, I know that you are more mature than that. And I’m sure that there is no better student I could have asked for.” Win can’t look at him.

“There must be another way…”

“There is none, Young Master. I overused magic, and my body can no longer support itself.”

“Then it’s all—!”

“It’s not that, Young Master. My body has been degrading for decades now. It would have killed me sooner or later. I chose to push myself for your sake of my own will. And it was an honor well beyond what I deserve.”

“Marcus!”

“I haven’t yet informed your esteemed father, but this shall be my final lesson to you, Young Master. Look up. Witness me. I’m sure I don’t look like an old man in need of your pity.”

Win slowly raises his eyes. Marcus looks no different. He looks as though everything might have been a bad-natured lie. But his eyes are still serious. His demeanor changes as he forgets his role as servant to the Lufian family and takes on a slight madness.

“Marcus, butler of the Lufian household and master of Winfred Lufian, the sixth generation master to inherit this art, shall now demonstrate the hidden art: ‘Overflowing Heart.’”

Marcus swings his blade. His grip is loose, and the slash is far more dull than it ever should be. Yet his blade glows. It shimmers with every color of the rainbow. It is the art of a spellsword. It shouldn’t be strong. It should serve no purpose. And yet his slash is surely the most powerful that Win has borne witness to. He can feel it cut through the air, even if it ought not have any strength behind it. He can see everything. It truly is a culmination of all he’s been taught. It dawns on Win that he was being taught for the sake of inheriting this slash. Even without Marcus, he might have reached the same slash on his own. Marcus finishes his demonstration and addresses Win.

“Young Master Win, you are the seventh generation.”

Marcus freezes in place, as though time itself had stopped. Win takes a slow step forward. Then another. He stands before Marcus. He looks at the serene, kind smile stuck on his face. Win was the sole person to bear witness. Marcus, butler of the Lufian family; spellsword of the Pacaster Kingdom; and Win’s master in the blade, magic, and life, has died.