Mav Halo
Mean, mean stride.
Rodez Summer Estate
Rodez Barony; Cesya
Sounds of conflict filled the sunlight courtyard, the rhythmic clash of lightfoils coupled with the murmurs of exertion disturbing what might have otherwise been a peaceful afternoon. Callia had lost count of the minutes that had passed since the duel had begun; her life having flowed into a series of never-ending manoeuvres and sword forms. There were only a few times had she been pressed this hard in a duel, all of those whilst facing off against the man before her.
No, perhaps man was something of a misnomer when applied to Rolfe Vanhaas.
Seemingly more sinew and gristle in his advanced years, he still moved with the grace and speed of a man a third of his age, moving across the flat-stones with an air of effortlessness that Callia could only admire and aspire to one-day replicate. It was easy to see why he had once been the premier duellist for House Cadriaan. He was a living legend, even now.
Which is why she should not have felt as embarrassed as she was that he was pressing her back so easily. His electric blue lightfoil seeming to flow around her own burnt orange blade like it was some elaborate dance. Perhaps it was.
Compressing her lips into a thin line of determination, she set herself into a vicious manoeuvre known as the River of Light amongst duelling circles. Her blade lancing out in an attempt to bisect the older man from hip to shoulder, finding itself neatly intercepted in return with the flurry of blows that drove her back as he commenced Rain in the High Wind. Nexu takes the Eopie, The Moon Cuts the Night Sky, The Leaf Soars. Fanciful, romantic names that belied the deadly intent behind each move, each cut, each riposte. Their weapons hissing and screeching as they locked and deflected one another from their purpose time and time again. The vigour of youth matched with the experience of age.
The difference was slowly becoming evident, however. Already a fine sheen of glistening sweat was beading on her brow while her opponent, a man several times her senior, remained impassive in the face of the rapid shifts between offensive and defence. If anything he seemed far more alive than he had in the hours preceding the duel, as if he was somehow drawing an invisible strength from the simple act of conflict.
Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, they separated and mirrored each other in a steady retreat. A temporary reprieve. They settled into defensive positions across from one another; Callia adopting a comfortable guard that placed her blade diagonally across her body, while Rolfe slipped seamlessly into a low stance that would allow him to capitalise on his preference of quick thrusts.
He dipped his head to the side. The gesture so small, so minimal, that it might have been otherwise ignored by an outward observer. Yet it was one that birthed a genuine smile across her features. The infamous and rarely seen Rolfe seal of approval.
“Time and time again, you continue prove yourself to be one of my better students, my dear.” The ancient knight relaxed his posture, his blade dipping down to the side as it had countless times before, usually signalling the end of their little session. A flicker of confusion wormed its way into her smile and her guard, caught flat-footed by both the early conclusion to the duel and what was perhaps the first direct compliment Rolfe had paid to… Well, anyone to her knowledge.
Unprepared for such an eventuality, Callia allowed herself the fatal luxury of hesitating. A cardinal sin amongst duellists; a lesson Rolfe had imparted quite ruthlessly during their very first lesson. Without warning he surged forward, a casual flick of his blade jarring her own to the side as he stepped in, the edge of the lightfoil suddenly hovering dangerously at her throat before she could even think of reacting. Those steel-grey eyes boring into her own; a faint glimmer of smug amusement lurking somewhere in their depths. “But it seems you are still a far cry from taking the title of the best I have taught, however.”
As quick as it had arrived, the blade was retracted and deactivated, leaving only the memory of its fierce heat against her skin behind. Gingerly she brought a hand up to her neck; she would very likely be sporting a red blemish for a few days. Fortunately her social engagements were few and far between, a fact Rolfe quite likely knew. He always seemed to schedule his chiding little reminders during such periods of inactivity.
“You cheated.”
He nodded; acknowledging it as a statement rather than an accusation. Honour may have been the direct cause of most duels in the Tapani sector, yet it rarely played a hand in the actual proceedings themselves. All was fair in love and war after all. And what encompassed both so neatly as the art of the saber rake?
“Yes. And do you know what your mistake was?”
“Not cheating first?”
“Quite.” His immaculate pencil thin moustache twitched. A ghost of an approving smile perhaps. Again more emotion than she had seen from him in all the years he had been training her. The time they had spent apart had clearly softened him. Where was the expressionless, ruthless teacher “No, your mistake was not anticipating it. As I have said countless times before, this is more than just simply crossing blades like some common thug. You need to out think your opponent. To know their mind like you know your own. See their moves ahead of time.”
Having been treated to this particular lecture on countless occasions, to the point she could repeat it almost verbatim, Callia simply opted to nod her assent as she deactivated her own blade in turn before returning it to her belt. Even with the more powerful lightsaber that hung from the opposite hip, it still demanded pride of place. A symbol that she was still a daughter of House Cadriaan despite recent events. Even if that was purely by virtue of her family’s ignorance of her part in many of them.
“Did you mean it?”
“About you being one of my better students? Come now, I might appreciate a dash of pride in my students, but such arrogance is hardly befitting a knight of your station.” He sat on the low wall that encircled this portion of the garden, safeguarding it from the cunningly trimmed hedges and topiaries that had been shaped into fearsome beasts from across the galaxy. Some imaginary, others decidedly less so. A recent trend that had arisen in the Cadriaan province since her departure. He motioned for her to do likewise before he continued, “To answer your question, however… Yes. I did mean it. You have potential. Far more than that clumsy oaf of a man you call father.”
“I think you’re forgetting that clumsy oaf was Champion of the House after you retired.”
“Exactly, my dear. After I retired. Having successfully disheartened or killed many of the more serious opponents, I paved the way so smooth that even a blind lizard-monkey could have taken the title. Your father simply had the good fortune to be the one to take advantage of the situation. Skill hardly entered the equation.”
A thin frown twisted at her lips before she schooled them into something more proper; an impassive mirror to her man across from her. Still, she couldn’t rid herself troubling sensation that welled up within her breast. She had long known there was little love between her father and his former instructor, the awkward stiffness between the two blatantly obvious to even the most oblivious of courtiers, but this was the first time she had actually heard Rolfe speak out against her father. In the past he had proven to be above such things; one of the many reasons why she had admired him.
“That might have allowed him to become Champion, but without skill he would never have been able to hold it for as long as he did.”
“You seem to be forgetting who your illustrious grandfather is. Or how far he would go to ensure his family name is upheld.”
Her brow furrowed. This conversation was quickly entering dangerous territory now. As the former champion and his mentor, it was one thing to make cutting remarks about her father’s skill, yet attempting the same against a Lord of the House was pure folly. Entire families had been vanished for less. If word somehow got back to her grandfather, not even Rolfe’s reputation, such as it was, would be enough to fend of his legendary wrath. Which begged one obvious question.
“Why are you telling me this?”
There was a drawn out silence between them; a cavernous gulf where once had been clear plains. Steel grey pitted against golden brown, neither gaze wavering as they waited expectantly for the answer to arrive. Eventually he relented with a faint sigh and shook his head, rising to his feet once again. “Perhaps I am just an old man, tired of seeing what has become of a sector he once loved beyond all else. What the people he trusted have done to it in the name of their own self-aggrandised pursuit of glory and riches.”
He silenced her with a wave of his hand, suddenly in no mood to converse any longer, nor did he motion for her to rise and resume the duel. It seemed he was dismissing himself. A faux pas on the tapani social decorum, yet one she was willing to let slide if it brought this awkward moment to a closure just a heartbeat sooner.
“Just remember what I said about thinking ahead.” Rolfe reminded her as he stalked towards the summer house, “It would be a shame if you failed to live up to your potential.”
Rodez Barony; Cesya
Sounds of conflict filled the sunlight courtyard, the rhythmic clash of lightfoils coupled with the murmurs of exertion disturbing what might have otherwise been a peaceful afternoon. Callia had lost count of the minutes that had passed since the duel had begun; her life having flowed into a series of never-ending manoeuvres and sword forms. There were only a few times had she been pressed this hard in a duel, all of those whilst facing off against the man before her.
No, perhaps man was something of a misnomer when applied to Rolfe Vanhaas.
Seemingly more sinew and gristle in his advanced years, he still moved with the grace and speed of a man a third of his age, moving across the flat-stones with an air of effortlessness that Callia could only admire and aspire to one-day replicate. It was easy to see why he had once been the premier duellist for House Cadriaan. He was a living legend, even now.
Which is why she should not have felt as embarrassed as she was that he was pressing her back so easily. His electric blue lightfoil seeming to flow around her own burnt orange blade like it was some elaborate dance. Perhaps it was.
Compressing her lips into a thin line of determination, she set herself into a vicious manoeuvre known as the River of Light amongst duelling circles. Her blade lancing out in an attempt to bisect the older man from hip to shoulder, finding itself neatly intercepted in return with the flurry of blows that drove her back as he commenced Rain in the High Wind. Nexu takes the Eopie, The Moon Cuts the Night Sky, The Leaf Soars. Fanciful, romantic names that belied the deadly intent behind each move, each cut, each riposte. Their weapons hissing and screeching as they locked and deflected one another from their purpose time and time again. The vigour of youth matched with the experience of age.
The difference was slowly becoming evident, however. Already a fine sheen of glistening sweat was beading on her brow while her opponent, a man several times her senior, remained impassive in the face of the rapid shifts between offensive and defence. If anything he seemed far more alive than he had in the hours preceding the duel, as if he was somehow drawing an invisible strength from the simple act of conflict.
Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, they separated and mirrored each other in a steady retreat. A temporary reprieve. They settled into defensive positions across from one another; Callia adopting a comfortable guard that placed her blade diagonally across her body, while Rolfe slipped seamlessly into a low stance that would allow him to capitalise on his preference of quick thrusts.
He dipped his head to the side. The gesture so small, so minimal, that it might have been otherwise ignored by an outward observer. Yet it was one that birthed a genuine smile across her features. The infamous and rarely seen Rolfe seal of approval.
“Time and time again, you continue prove yourself to be one of my better students, my dear.” The ancient knight relaxed his posture, his blade dipping down to the side as it had countless times before, usually signalling the end of their little session. A flicker of confusion wormed its way into her smile and her guard, caught flat-footed by both the early conclusion to the duel and what was perhaps the first direct compliment Rolfe had paid to… Well, anyone to her knowledge.
Unprepared for such an eventuality, Callia allowed herself the fatal luxury of hesitating. A cardinal sin amongst duellists; a lesson Rolfe had imparted quite ruthlessly during their very first lesson. Without warning he surged forward, a casual flick of his blade jarring her own to the side as he stepped in, the edge of the lightfoil suddenly hovering dangerously at her throat before she could even think of reacting. Those steel-grey eyes boring into her own; a faint glimmer of smug amusement lurking somewhere in their depths. “But it seems you are still a far cry from taking the title of the best I have taught, however.”
As quick as it had arrived, the blade was retracted and deactivated, leaving only the memory of its fierce heat against her skin behind. Gingerly she brought a hand up to her neck; she would very likely be sporting a red blemish for a few days. Fortunately her social engagements were few and far between, a fact Rolfe quite likely knew. He always seemed to schedule his chiding little reminders during such periods of inactivity.
“You cheated.”
He nodded; acknowledging it as a statement rather than an accusation. Honour may have been the direct cause of most duels in the Tapani sector, yet it rarely played a hand in the actual proceedings themselves. All was fair in love and war after all. And what encompassed both so neatly as the art of the saber rake?
“Yes. And do you know what your mistake was?”
“Not cheating first?”
“Quite.” His immaculate pencil thin moustache twitched. A ghost of an approving smile perhaps. Again more emotion than she had seen from him in all the years he had been training her. The time they had spent apart had clearly softened him. Where was the expressionless, ruthless teacher “No, your mistake was not anticipating it. As I have said countless times before, this is more than just simply crossing blades like some common thug. You need to out think your opponent. To know their mind like you know your own. See their moves ahead of time.”
Having been treated to this particular lecture on countless occasions, to the point she could repeat it almost verbatim, Callia simply opted to nod her assent as she deactivated her own blade in turn before returning it to her belt. Even with the more powerful lightsaber that hung from the opposite hip, it still demanded pride of place. A symbol that she was still a daughter of House Cadriaan despite recent events. Even if that was purely by virtue of her family’s ignorance of her part in many of them.
“Did you mean it?”
“About you being one of my better students? Come now, I might appreciate a dash of pride in my students, but such arrogance is hardly befitting a knight of your station.” He sat on the low wall that encircled this portion of the garden, safeguarding it from the cunningly trimmed hedges and topiaries that had been shaped into fearsome beasts from across the galaxy. Some imaginary, others decidedly less so. A recent trend that had arisen in the Cadriaan province since her departure. He motioned for her to do likewise before he continued, “To answer your question, however… Yes. I did mean it. You have potential. Far more than that clumsy oaf of a man you call father.”
“I think you’re forgetting that clumsy oaf was Champion of the House after you retired.”
“Exactly, my dear. After I retired. Having successfully disheartened or killed many of the more serious opponents, I paved the way so smooth that even a blind lizard-monkey could have taken the title. Your father simply had the good fortune to be the one to take advantage of the situation. Skill hardly entered the equation.”
A thin frown twisted at her lips before she schooled them into something more proper; an impassive mirror to her man across from her. Still, she couldn’t rid herself troubling sensation that welled up within her breast. She had long known there was little love between her father and his former instructor, the awkward stiffness between the two blatantly obvious to even the most oblivious of courtiers, but this was the first time she had actually heard Rolfe speak out against her father. In the past he had proven to be above such things; one of the many reasons why she had admired him.
“That might have allowed him to become Champion, but without skill he would never have been able to hold it for as long as he did.”
“You seem to be forgetting who your illustrious grandfather is. Or how far he would go to ensure his family name is upheld.”
Her brow furrowed. This conversation was quickly entering dangerous territory now. As the former champion and his mentor, it was one thing to make cutting remarks about her father’s skill, yet attempting the same against a Lord of the House was pure folly. Entire families had been vanished for less. If word somehow got back to her grandfather, not even Rolfe’s reputation, such as it was, would be enough to fend of his legendary wrath. Which begged one obvious question.
“Why are you telling me this?”
There was a drawn out silence between them; a cavernous gulf where once had been clear plains. Steel grey pitted against golden brown, neither gaze wavering as they waited expectantly for the answer to arrive. Eventually he relented with a faint sigh and shook his head, rising to his feet once again. “Perhaps I am just an old man, tired of seeing what has become of a sector he once loved beyond all else. What the people he trusted have done to it in the name of their own self-aggrandised pursuit of glory and riches.”
He silenced her with a wave of his hand, suddenly in no mood to converse any longer, nor did he motion for her to rise and resume the duel. It seemed he was dismissing himself. A faux pas on the tapani social decorum, yet one she was willing to let slide if it brought this awkward moment to a closure just a heartbeat sooner.
“Just remember what I said about thinking ahead.” Rolfe reminded her as he stalked towards the summer house, “It would be a shame if you failed to live up to your potential.”