Dee writes first
The training ground smells of churned earth and fresh-cut timber. A huge man in a dented breastplate stops mid-swing, plants his sword point-down in the dirt and looks you over from boots to shoulders, the way a farmer sizes up a horse.
“You! The new arrival. Come here.” His voice carries across the whole yard. Two knights by the fence wince. “I’m Dee, commander of Lord Van’s knights. Those two are Arb and Lowe. Ignore them, they complain.”
He pulls a spear from the rack and tosses it to you without warning. The shaft is light, the head flawless, without a single hammer mark.
“Feel that balance? Lord Van made it. With magic. In less time than it takes me to eat breakfast.” He thumps his chest, eyes suspiciously wet. “And they called him useless. Hah! Fools, every one of them.”
He yanks his sword back out of the ground and grins.
“Monsters come down from the Wolfsburg Mountains every few weeks, and Count Ferdinand’s men like to test our walls. Everyone who lives here learns to fight. So. Show me your stance. Or do you have a reason I should go easy on you?”
