Training in martial prowess

 The Avelin academy was built upon a beach, with a deep moat of water drawn from the ocean nearby surrounding its outer walls. From two sides the water flowed, wrapping around the academy before running through the middle of campus to flow out to sea once more.

It was not a defensive measure by any means, but was rather used for recreational purposes with some students choosing to take a boat around the academy, and to the sea should they wish.

The Avelin aqueduct also found its final stop here before connecting to the academy’s artificial river, ensuring the water will never be still and cause pollution.

The area meant for knight-in-training was located outside the walls, and Hugo had elected to take a boat there rather than going by foot.

He wasn’t sure if it was merely him attempting to distract himself from the dreaded course, but Hugo found himself marvelling at the incredible feat of engineering on display.

Of course, there was also a great deal of opulence as the moat wasn’t just a ditch, but was tiled with cut stone the entire way through. That too he would’ve marvelled at, but the sheer amount of wealth concentrated here was just tiring at this point.

The steel gate at the outer wall opened by itself the moment they approached, and just beyond he could see the great blue stretching out beyond the horizon. The training field lay nearby, less than a hundred meters from the academy at large.

With a small thanks to the ferryman of the boat, Hugo was off.

Surprisingly enough, he was the first to arrive, and a glance at the clock would reveal twenty minutes remaining until the start of training. It seems as though he had ended up rushing in his nervousness.

Well, he was the first student to arrive.

There sat a man with crimson eyes and golden hair, and even from afar he could tell he was undoubted among the largest men he’s ever seen, at least a head taller than even his father.

Such striking features combined with an armor of full plate and a sword currently in the process of being sharpened, the man made for quite the intimidating sight.

Hugo must’ve spent at least a few minutes staring. He undoubtedly recognized such a description, yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“No greetings for your instructor?” The boy was shaken out of his stupor, quickly making his way over to the armored man.

“I’m the newest student under your training, it’s an honor to meet you, sir knight.” Hugo moved to give a hasty bow, though his gesture was waved off.

“Hugo, right? The one joining through the lowborn knight grant.” His surprise at being recognized must’ve shown, as the man stood up with a chuckle.

“It’s important for a captain to know his men, no different here. I’m Harold, your instructor for the foreseeable future.” The man held out a hand, and Hugo returned a firm handshake.

Harold gestured at him to follow, leading him to a large building that was likely an armory. His thoughts would be proven correct when the door opened to reveal racks and shelves filled to the brim with various weapons, armor stashed away on the other side.

“Any experience with swords?” His instructor asked.

“None sir.” Hugo admitted.

“Hammers or axes?”

The boy shook his head.

“Riding?”

“Only for travel.”

“Polearms?”

“Just the spear.”

In spite of his embarrassingly small amount of experience, the man didn’t seem deterred in the slightest, humming to himself as he searched piles of weapons.

“Effective, but unacceptable for a knight’s honor. The old coots will have my hide if I sent out a trainee with a spear.” Harold mumbled to himself, eventually picking out a weapon.

“The halberd, give it a swing.”

Hugo did as he was told, and nearly toppled a shelf as the sheer weight behind the weapon caused him to lose his grip on the shaft halfway through.

His instructor grabbed it out of the air with one hand, swung it around a few times as though it was nothing more than a feather, then returned it to the pile.

“Too long, too heavy. Perhaps the poleaxe would serve better?”

Another weapon was handed to him, this one much shorter than the halberd. He swung once more, and though the momentum still made him stumble to gain control, at least he was able to keep it from flying out of his hands.

Harold nodded at the sight. “That will do. Just use it as you would a spear for now, I will teach you the advantages of the blade and the hook once you’re more used to the weight. Are you familiar with dueling?”

“Yes, sir Harold.” It was the only thing he was familiar with, though Hugo decided against mentioning such a thing.

An armor stand was brought out with a full set. “This should fit, be ready in five minutes, one of your fellows should be arriving soon.”

He nodded, and soon enough stood outside with gambeson and chainmail below brigandine armor, plate covering his arms and legs. It was heavy, hot, and smelled of sweat from the previous owner that didn’t quite wash out. His bascinet helmet also obstructed over half his vision, and Hugo felt utterly out of his element.

He was used to sparring with a wooden spear in normal clothes, not…this.

“Is all this armor really necessary?” Though he had not intended it, his words were heard by another.

“Of course it is, unless you want to lose a limb that is.” Hugo nearly jumped in surprise as he turned around. There stood someone around his age, a handsome guy with dark red hair and emerald eyes.

“Marcel of Lubecq, you must be the rookie captain mentioned, he told me to test your mettle.” He bore a confident smirk, tapping him on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

Hugo gave a light bow in greeting. “I’m Hugo, I’ll be in your care then.” Marcel gave him a thumbs up as he left the armory.

Soon enough, they stood across each other with poleaxes in hand. “Marcel, don’t be too hard on him. Hugo, be careful with your visor.” Harold said. Both students nodded, and the duel began.

In contrast to Hugo who had never worn even a gambeson before, Marcel moved in his plate armor as though it was second nature, the bulky suit seemingly not slowing him the slightest.

Despite knowing it’s merely a duel and that his foe was likely going to go easy on him, Hugo felt the weight of fear settle into his being.

‘Just stay on the defensive and don’t let your foe get in close—you can do that much can’t you?’

Recalling Orin’s words, Hugo immediately took a defensive stance, bringing his poleaxe up front between himself and Marcel.

His opponent also took a defensive stance, if a little more relaxed in his demeanor. Marcel began to slowly circle around him, Hugo remained firmly rooted in place.

Nearly a minute passed before Marcel realised Hugo wasn’t going to attack, and took a step forward. A small thrust was sent his way, Hugo took a quick step back to get out of range.

Marcel brought his weapon back in an awkward manner, breaking his stance and leaving himself completely open to attack. Hugo saw it clearly, yet took not a single step forward.

His opponent frowned, taking another step forward before thrusting once more. The attack went veering off course as Hugo used the shaft of his weapon to push his opponent’s poleaxe away.

Once again, Marcel’s stance broke, yet Hugo didn’t counter attack. He simply returned to his defensive stance, taking a few steps back to make distance.

Marcel quickly swung from the right, and the attack was dodged as Hugo stepped back once more. The redhair was completely overextended from the attack, stumbling as he struggled to bring his weapons around.

Hugo budged not a single inch.

It was certainly not a matter of skill that he refused to attack, for he had dueled with his father and put him on the backfoot many times before.

Was it fear? Or perhaps it was nerves getting to him. He couldn’t say.

All he knew was that his body refused to go on the offensive.

“What’s wrong?” His opponent asked, both annoyance and concern present in his voice.

Hugo didn’t have an answer to offer—not to Marcel, not to himself.

The same song and dance was repeated several times over, with one going on mock offensives while the other refused to take advantage of openings for counterattack.

Marcel’s frown only grew deeper with each exchange.

After nearly ten minutes, he appeared to have had enough.

Marcel swung once more, too far to reach Hugo himself. Yet the target was not the wielder, but rather the weapon itself.

Hit on the heavy end, Hugo’s grip on his weapon was lost, and in one smooth motion Marcel brought the wedge of his poleaxe around Hugo’s knee before pulling, sending him tumbling to the ground.

“What a joke.” Were Marcel’s harsh words, so unlike the friendly demeanor he held before. He turned away with a scoff, leaving without a word more.

Hugo could only sigh as he laid there. Not exactly a great first impression.