Chapter 20

There was a gym on Arthur’s floor of the main school building. Windowless, lined with cushioned mats and racks of weights, smelling of plastic and sweat.

The sword stood against one wall, watching as his classmates trickled in. It wasn’t the whole class, from what the sword could tell, it was mostly those who were of a physically inclined class, the [Knights] and [Rangers] and [Paladins]. The laughing girl was there, blended seemlessly into one of the louder clusters of people. Mei was also there, which surprised him, flanked by two of her taller [Aristocrats]. She didn’t speak when she walked in, but when their eyes met, she nodded her head at him gravely.

The sword stared back until she looked away, then belatedly realized he had probably been supposed to nod back to her.

His classmates seemed more energized than usual, a steady buzz of conversation filled the room, growing louder as more people came in. He saw many people speak together, even laugh, who he had never seen talk to each other before today. Also, he kept hearing people say something about “getting out of the hole,” and could not figure out what hole they were referring to.

They treated him different as well, at this point he was used to being ignored, but several people stared at him when they noticed him, pointing him out to their friends, a few even walked up to him, though when he didn’t say anything, they didn’t say anything either.

Cadmarius said he had only been in the clinic for a little less than a day, yet it felt much longer for all the changes to the school. Regular classes were suspended, he’d spent the morning in Cadmarius’ kitchen putting together sandwiches, and his walk from the kitchen to the gym had been interrupted by two different squads of older students on guard duty, all looking as cheerful as his own classmates.

It seemed everybody preferred war to schoolwork. Of course, the sword did as well, but he was a little surprised by how universal the sentiment seemed to be.

The [Demon Lord] is restrained—strike now!

The status message appeared just as Arthur walked through the gym door, followed by Ms. Lopez. The sword allowed himself only a moment of disappointment that she was not carrying [Thorn Liege] with her today, before focusing again on Arthur.

When the other boy saw the sword, he waived, and jogged over. The source of the message became clear as he drew near, there was a silver chain around his neck, cinched closed with a small padlock.

“I can’t believe it, you’re hitting the gym too? Well, that’s one way to get the ladies,” Arthur thumped his back.

“Why are you here?” The sword asked. “You’re a summoner. And what is that around your neck?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Oh you know how it is, break your curfew once and suddenly it’s all ‘If you won’t stay behind the restraints, the restraints are going with you’. Like none of them ever snuck out to a party when they were teens. Hypocrites.”

“I see,” the sword said, which he kind of did. The chain must be some kind of magical restraint preventing him from summoning demons like the imp Serpenedos.

That was serious magic, he was surprised Crossroads had access to such a thing.

“But why are you here?” the sword repeated, gesturing to the gym.

“Cad,” Arthur said, “told me I could go play punching bag for the newbies or be on dish washing duty for the next six months.”

Ms. Lopez clapped her hands, interrupting further conversation.

“We’re going to change things up tonight,” she said tiredly, “Grab your gear, form two lines. Bouts end on the whistle, take a quick break, keep going. We’re not focusing on technique for the next little while, just volume of experience. The more different people you fight, the more skills you’ll gain. I’ll be walking the lines correcting the most egregious mistakes, if you ignore me I will hit you. And don’t forget to fight Arthur, [Demon Lords] are worth extra.”

“The hand of my firstborn daughter to the brave warrior who brings me the [Demon Lord’s] head!” Arthur called out cheerfully.

“Thank you, Mr. Hall,” Ms. Lopez said, and clapped again.

Everyone moved in the direction of the rack of wooden sticks against one wall. Arthur and the sword followed.

The wooden sticks were about the length of a long sword, wrapped in fabric as a kind of protection, the sword supposed.

He stared at the wooden stick, the facsimile of a sword.

No, better if he just thought of it as a stick.

When he did, it was easier to pick it up, though he grasped it only between his thumb and forefinger.

He moved it as he walked to the end of the line. It was about the right weight, though the balance wasn’t quite right, the padding wasn’t completely evenly distributed.

The boy across from him was one of Haldar Brassbone’s, short but well muscled, and his shirt was already flung to one side. The boy’s eyes widened as he met the sword’s.

The sword thought the other boy was going to say something, but whatever it was, the whistle blew first.

He was slow, though his swings were powerful.

The sword spent the bout carefully not parrying with his arms, either sidestepping the other boy’s thrusts, or actually using the wooden stick to block. It was very difficult to keep track of both the boy’s stick and his own arms, and the other boy managed to hit him twice.

As soon as it was over, the sword dropped his stick. He was sweating, his mind felt stretched in a way that he did not find comfortable. He felt like he didn’t know what to do with his hands as he stood. Should he clench his fists? Stuff them in his pockets? Swing them as he walked? None of the options seemed correct. He’d never thought about hands so much before now.

Arthur found him. “Well, how did it go?” He asked. “Any sudden urges to kill everyone and then yourself?”

“Uh…no?” The sword said.

“Sounds like a rousing success,” Arthur said. “So proud of your growth.”

“What about you?” The sword asked.

“Oh yeah, I’d still rip them into little pieces and feed them to the Fifth Circle.”

This sounded normal. The sword said, “I feel very aware of my hands.”

“Maybe don’t say that one to the ladies,” Arthur said sympathetically, “they might take it the wrong way.”

What way, the sword didn’t get to ask, as the whistle blew.

His next opponent was late, still talking with one of his fellow [knights].

It was a similarly uninteresting match, the sword managed not to get hit by anything, at least.

When it was over, he went looking for Arthur, who was cutting the line for the water fountain.

“People seem different,” the sword said to Arthur.

“Conflict makes everyone happy,” Arthur replied. “Even the boring siege we’re in the middle of. At least they all get to play hero again.”

“They keep talking about pits.”

“Oh,” Arthur said. “That. Yeah.”

The sword waited.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Shared trauma. Alice was telling me about it. Too bad she isn’t here, she’d explain it better. I guess the rest of the class got thrown in a big pit together when they were captured at the party. There’s some kind of obnoxious joke about climbing they all say to each other now.”

“Shared trauma?”

“It’s so annoying,” Arthur grumbled. “Take two people who despise each other, put them through the same swim through demon infested waters, and suddenly its like they’re brothers. Makes torturing prisoners much more complicated than it should be.”

Put that way, it was not so disimilar to the way his wielders often became friendlier with their bands or companies after a battle. The sword hadn’t really understood the phenomenon, but he’d seen it often enough.

“They all look at me, too,” he said. Lots of quick glances. He was sure he was missing many more, given how little he paid attention to the others.

“Yeah well,” Arthur said, “the last time you were kind of fighting, you almost blew them all up, so get used to it.”

The sword’s next fight was with the laughing girl.

It was the first time they’d been face to face for more than a few seconds. The sword nearly asked her to be his wielder then and there. But he remembered Mei.

He swallowed.

He didn’t want to screw this up.

The whistle blew.

She was quite good.

Not as fast as he was, and she knew it, but disciplined and creative. She never made the same failed attack twice.

It took all of the sword’s concentration to remember he was only allowed to block with the stick.

“You keep not attacking people,” she said, “It’s boring.”

She got in a good rap on his arm, as he tried to come up with something to respond.

“Come on, do something interesting, I’m trying to get more skills so I can get out of here,” she said, getting in another slap on his arm. It stung.

The sword was tempted. Maybe she would be impressed if he could hit her back, hit her harder even.

But he remembered what Arthur had said, the others all thought he was going to lose control. It would not help his cause if he lashed out now.

And besides, the sword thought that, despite what people actually said, they rarely actually wanted to be hit by him. This was another common experience from his wielders.

So he held back, and at the end of the bout had a nice set of purple marks on his arms.

For a moment, after it was over, he thought the laughing girl meant to kill him. Then she shook her head and snorted. “After what you did for Mei, we all know you can do more than that. Don’t hold back, I don’t have time to waste.”

The sword didn’t know what she’d meant by that.

He didn’t get a chance to talk to Arthur during this break, as Ms. Lopez was lecturing him about something, probably having to do with the fresh cut over his left eyebrow. The sword spent some time trying to figure out how he could have cut himself given that the sticks were wooden and padded, but didn’t come to a conclusion before the next match began.

He was so distracted, he didn’t notice until he turned to face his opponent that it was Mei Huang.

“Hello,” she said to him.

“Hello,” the sword said.

“Are you feeling better?” She asked. “I heard…you were wounded.”

The sword looked down at his body. It seemed obvious that he was better. This must be part of polite conversation. He said, “Yes. Thank you for asking.” This sounded like a normal human thing to say.

Mei winced, it must not have sounded good to her either.

“Time to chat at the break!” Ms. Lopez said briskly on her way down the line.

Mei swung towards her, her gaze turning momentarily annoyed. Unused to being interrupted, the sword guessed. Which made sense, given her class.

But after a delicate sniff, she stepped towards the sword, offering a tentative blow to his left.

She was not very good.

Her grip on her stick was loose, she seemed to be able to hold her stick proeprly, or have her feet arranged in a reasonable way, but not both at the same time.

And her movements were quite obvious.

On the other hand she was wonderfully decisive. The sword didn’t have to even pretend to strike for her to go after him, which let him concentrate on his own form as he wished.

Her stamina seemed remarkably good, though, she wasn’t breathing heavily at all by the end of their match, unlike the sword, who was soaked in sweat and heaving with his lungs feeling like they were crimped at the sides.

She was in much better shape than he would have guessed, given her lack of apparent muscle.

And there had been one really good hit she’d gotten against him, a flash of inspiration as his parry had been a little too slow.

Best not to think too much about what she could become.

She had said no as clearly as she possibly could.

When it was done, she opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and said, “See you later.”

The sword nodded, and went to find Arthur.