They both shook hands firmly, a brief moment of trust between them. "You really don''t slack off in your training, Azrael," Lyren remarked, giving him an approving look.


    Azrael shrugged with a confident grin. "Neither do you. How old are you, anyway?"


    "Eleven," Lyren replied. "I''ll be twelve next July. And you?"


    "Also eleven," Azrael answered. "But I''ll be twelve in August. That means we still have a while to go."


    Lyren nodded and grinned lightly. "Looks like it. So, how would you proceed from here?"


    Azrael paused for a moment before answering. "Since we''re now two, I think it makes sense to go after Amandine. She knows me, even paid me a visit once. Plus, I think it''s worth trying to get some information from her."


    Lyren raised an eyebrow and nodded in agreement. "Sounds reasonable. How about we test our abilities? A duel. We need to know what the other can do."


    Azrael thought for a moment and then agreed. "Alright. We can head to Bartho. He''s a blacksmith. If I ask nicely, he''ll probably give us some practice swords."


    Lyren grinned. "Deal. Let''s go."


    With a slight smile, they walked side by side toward the forge. Both were eager for the upcoming fight, excited to test their skills and find out who among them was the stronger.


    As they walked through the village, the townspeople continued offering Azrael free goods. Lyren raised an eyebrow, watching the people''s behavior with growing skepticism.


    "They really seem to have taken a liking to you," Lyren joked.


    Azrael grimaced and replied, annoyed, "Only recently. Before that, they''d have preferred to see me hanging from the gallows."


    "Everyone shows affection in different ways," Lyren quipped playfully.


    "How about I prove my trust in you by hitting you with a club for a change?" Azrael''s tone was challenging.


    "Go ahead, give it a try," Lyren teased with a playful grin.


    After some back and forth, they finally reached the forge. Without hesitation, Azrael approached Bartho and received three practice swords: two dull sabers and a short sword.


    Without exchanging many words, they left the forge through the back door and entered the garden. It was larger than one would expect at first glance and well-maintained. On the right side stood two raised beds, where ripe tomatoes and various herbs grew, releasing the scent of sun and earth. Wild thyme climbed up small wooden stakes between the beds, and here and there, insects could be spotted buzzing around the plants.


    In the middle of the garden was an open space marked by short-cut grass and well-trodden earth. Perfect for training duels or heavy work. A weathered wooden wash tub stood beneath an apple tree, its leafy crown casting shade over the simple but sturdy device. The tree seemed to have seen many summers, its bark rough and deeply furrowed. To the left of the wash tub was a small wooden shed with half-open doors, offering a glimpse of gardening tools and a few old crates.


    A gentle breeze swept through the garden, causing the leaves to rustle softly, while the sun bathed the greenery in warm light.


    Azrael swung his sword through the air several times, feeling its weight and balance. "It could be better, but it will do the job," he murmured with satisfaction.


    Lyren nodded silently, his eyes flashing with approval. He saw it the same way as Azrael. The weapons might not be perfect, but they were adequate for their fight.


    Azrael could feel the slightly heavier weight of his sword compared to what he was used to. It sat more heavily in his hand, but the difference wasn’t large enough to truly bother him. It was a challenge he was eager to accept.


    Bartho had also given them simple protective gear, covering their heads and the most vulnerable spots— more of a rough precaution than real protection.


    "Shall we just get started?" Azrael asked, his eyes already fixed on the upcoming battle.


    Lyren only smiled and nodded, not uttering another word. They took their positions, standing across from each other, the air between them suddenly charged with tension. They extended their swords until their tips gently touched. A traditional sign of mutual respect.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    When the brief moment of reverence passed, both stepped back at the same time. The ground beneath their feet was solid, offering no room for error. Azrael brought his left hand forward, ready to block, as he held his sword horizontally, the tip pointed directly at Lyren. It was a defensive stance that preserved his mobility.


    On his left hand, he wore a cut-resistant chain glove, offering extra protection. Lyren, on the other hand, held one of his swords in an inverted grip, the blade pointing backward, while the other sword was held forward. An unorthodox style that piqued Azrael''s curiosity.


    The stillness of the garden enveloped them, with only the faint rustling of leaves in the wind breaking the silence. For a brief moment, they paused, studying each other''s stance, gauging the distance. Then, without warning, Lyren moved in a blur. His left foot shooting forward. The blade in his right hand flashed toward Azrael.


    His left sword sliced down from above, the metal flashing in the sunlight. Azrael instinctively sidestepped slightly. The air swept coolly past his face as the sword whooshed dangerously close. With a swift, precise motion of his free hand, he deflected Lyren''s strike outward.


    Clang.


    Steel against steel. The vibration ran through his hand as he redirected the curved sword and immediately followed up with his short sword. Lyren, momentarily caught off guard, jumped back. But Azrael gave him no respite. His blade came crashing down, aiming for his head.


    With a fluid, circular motion, Lyren parried the attack, his stance remaining solid. The second sword shot forward like a snake. Azrael ducked, lunging forward directly at Lyren, who barely had time to react.


    With a powerful thrust, Azrael''s left fist slammed into Lyren''s stomach. Hit.


    Lyren gasped and was sent stumbling backward, landing with heavy breaths. But a fierce grin spread across his face. In the movement, he managed to graze Azrael’s chest with his blade. Only a touch, but it made Azrael feel the cold steel.


    "You’re damn good," Lyren gasped, his eyes flashing.


    "Likewise," Azrael replied. Without hesitation, he charged forward again, his steps faster, more determined. His muscles tightened, every strike sharper, stronger. The fight had turned serious.


    Lyren seemed to be giving his all now. His movements became more powerful, faster, and more precise. In the heat of the battle, it seemed they had forgotten that this was only a training fight.


    Lyren struck with one sword. The blade aimed at Azrael''s head while the other moved toward his throat. Azrael feigned a block, but at the last moment, he fell backward. He pushed himself up with his left hand and simultaneously delivered a wild kick that knocked Lyren mercilessly off his feet.


    With a swift leap, Azrael jumped up, charged forward, and continued his assault as Lyren tried to regain his balance.


    Clang.


    The blades collided as Lyren spun around. "Close," a brief thought flashed through his mind as he crouched down and aimed a strike at Azrael''s legs. But at the last moment, he changed direction and aimed for his lower body.


    Azrael, surprised, jumped upward. "I can''t dodge!"


    He pulled his knees in, as if performing a somersault. The steel cut through the air and grazed his rear leg, a light, meaningless pain surged through him, but he knew he had to keep moving. The hit gave him enough momentum for a backflip. Still in mid-air, he struck Lyren''s hand with his sword, causing him to recoil in surprise.


    With a dull cry, Lyren dropped his left sword. Azrael grinned menacingly, the tension between them palpable. But at the moment of impact, another sword sliced through the air in a swift arc toward Azrael''s head. A victorious smile spread across Lyren’s face. But then, he froze.


    Azrael suddenly dropped into a split, his sword flashing through the air. With a skilled move, his blade shot forward and rested against Lyren''s throat.


    Lyren had lost.


    "Who would do a split in a fight?" he laughed incredulously, as they shook hands.


    "Quite effective, actually," Azrael grinned cheekily in return. He was pleasantly surprised. Lyren was no slouch in combat. He now seemed much more relaxed. Not as dangerous as when they had first met. They were alike. Lyren had been through a lot, too.


    Azrael recognized that immediately.


    "I think we''ll make a good team. What’s your weapon of choice?" Lyren asked, interest in his voice.


    "Yeah, this will be fun. I prefer the bow, along with either a slim longsword or a shortsword. However, it will be a while before I can use a real longsword in battle. I’m also fairly good at hand-to-hand combat. My build is just a bit of a hindrance," Azrael replied.


    "Bow? That''s good! That gives us ranged options as well. How about we stick together from now on? Training together should definitely help us both," Lyren suggested.


    "Lyren seems honest," Azrael thought hesitantly. "I think I’ll trust him. At least mostly."


    "Alright. Should I ask Bartho if you can stay with us tonight?"


    "That sounds like a good idea."


    On the way back to the house, they discussed their fight in more detail.


    "You can tell you’re skilled in hand-to-hand combat, too. It’s really unique how you incorporate it into your fighting," Lyren commented.


    "Yeah, I''ve thought a lot about my fighting style. What to include, what not to, and how to be the most flexible. There’s nothing more interesting than that. The technique you asked about, I developed it like this:"


    "I’ve thought about dodging. I’ve simulated battles in my head. The problem with dodging is that the opponent’s sword is still dangerous. He could change its trajectory and hit my leg. So, the sword has to be neutralized. That can also lead to a brief moment of distraction..." Azrael rambled, his eyes burning with intensity.


    "He''s crazy about martial arts," Lyren thought inwardly. "I like it; having a lunatic like him by my side is pretty motivating." Lyren, on the other hand, saw it all as more practical. Martial arts were simply a means to take down opponents.


    "Your way of fighting is also quite fascinating. You focus on unpredictability. Sometimes one weapon attacks alone, sometimes both at once, and other times one weapon draws attention. Very interesting, really interesting."


    Lyren listened with glassy eyes. "A perfect summary. He understood my fighting style after just one encounter. What a monster."