The Player

"What?" I shouted, "You didn't think to tell me about this?" I said indignantly, thinking of how long I had unintentionally kept a guest waiting. oh, mother would be scolding me fiercely right now.

"I saw you and it fled my mind," Kathy said defensively.

"oh, please, this is not the time," I said as I stood and quickly checked my appearance to make sure I was at least presentable.

"There's no rush," Kathy said, "I asked Caleb to talk with him before I came to tell you."

My chest filled with lead at that. Caleb did not know how to properly entertain a guest. How could I not rush to correct any grievous misunderstandings? perhaps this was the gods testing me? yes, it most certainly was, how else could this terrible string of events otherwise be explained?

"Where were they?" I demanded as I quickly left my room and started for the front of the manor.

"In the entrance hall last I saw them," Kathy replied, now deciding to clean up my room. how was that going to help me? there was every chance this player was a messenger of the gods! How could I afford to offend Zystim? I owed her too much for her favor alone.

Naturally, I rushed to the floryer, only to see it empty. This sent me on a half-crazed search around the whole manor, still. I did not find them. This could be a serious matter, of course. If this player was someone who wished to waste my time I'd waste no time in sending them on their way, but there was a chance, ever so small that it was that they could help me.

I walked out of the front door, there was nowhere else in the manor to look but the roof at this point. Oh gods, I would be teaching a few people how to properly entertain guests that came to the manor from now on.

"Come on! keep your arms up." A voice called out from the side of the manor. I looked to the side but I didn't see anyone in the yard.

A loud thawk resounded from around the corner of the manor. "No, don't swing randomly. and trying to imitate my style won't help you."

"You aren't teaching me anything!" Another voice whined, Caleb's... Oh, what had the dimwit gone and done now?

I began to head around the house to hear a flurry of blows of wooden practice swords. "Up! Left! Right now! Up!"

A tall man of solid build was sparring with Caleb. well to call it sparing was a kind gesture, it looked to be more of a beat down. The man moved fluidly from one strike to the next as if it was effortless. I struggled to follow some of his moves, I could tell at a glance that he was good, perhaps very good. but I had never lifted a sword so my ability to judge his skill was that of an amateur at best.

A few more strikes and he easily managed to disarm Caleb. he flicked his blade so that it was a mere inch or so from Caleb's chest. He chuckled lightly and knelt down to retrieve the blade he'd disarmed Caleb of, with a slight flourish he presented it to him hilt first.

"The best form of practice in my experience is to be beaten, then to devise a method of beating the person who bested me." he then did something with his left hand and the practice blade disappeared in a brief flash of light.

"There are other ways of learning, but that is how I've honed my skills across the decade I've used the sword." The man's back was to me so I could not see his face but Caleb seemed perplexed for a moment.

"Earlier you said you only been carrying a sword for a few weeks."

The man coughed. "My story is something I would like to keep to myself."

"But as for wanting to help your cousin, keep at it. learning the sword takes time and patience. it's more a form of art than of war." the man said. "keep this if nothing else in mind, to live by the sword you must learn that winning is not what the sword cares for, but for a good dance. Only with a good partner will it not let you down in your moment of need." he said ruefully.

"Hey Liz." Caleb said as he noticed me, "she's who you came to see."

"Thanks Caleb, for taking care of our guest while I was preoccupied." I nodded to him.

The man turned around. His skin was lightly tanned form being outside. Warm green eyes that sparkled with knowledge and humor helped put me at ease. He was rather tall, about six foot. He wore strange clothing too.

He wore worn leather boots, trousers, and a plain white shirt over which he wore a strange jacket. It was odd in its design as it was so plain. There was little in the way of embroidery. Instead it appeared to be made of leather of all things, however a pair of coattails hung down behind him.

"Salutations," he bowed, "A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance lady Almeria. I am Tyran."