My hands trembled against the hilt of the broadsword as my uncle stared me down. Sir Giovanni, nary an uncle in sight. His look and actions more befitting the knight he was than a doting uncle. But a doting uncle he was, if doting was the education of war. The guard I held was one he taught me, my blade held high and beside my head, parallel to my nose as he struck down. I caught his blade, binding it to my own and dragging it to the side as I thrust forth and dug the blunted tip into his mail coif, catching a grunt from him as he pulled back and prepared a low guard himself, demanding I strike. I carved down at him to capitalize what was obviously a false guard, feinting, stepping, and cutting inverse into his wrist as he struck high from his lowered iron gate. His hand tensed and opened as the blunted edge struck his gloved wrist, throwing the sword from his hand as he backed up and threw his hands up, smirking.

“Good work, Lyss.” He said as he brought his hand forward, knocking away my blade and forcing me to drop into a lower guard. His free hand roughly grabbed my shoulder, shaking. “No power yet, it seems, at least none visibly.” My heart was racing, The iron gate was something I had known of, but never countered so obviously. I had not the faintest idea how he would respond, but it felt like second nature.

“How about my guard?” I asked, grinning up at him.

“We will discuss it at length when the day comes to an end.” He said. “I was hoping by now a power would manifest in our training.”

I could sense some manner of disappointment in his voice as we moved past the gathered knights in the courtyard observing my education, their inquisitive stares digging into my heart as I felt them silently judge me. Had I done something wrong? Not everyone has a power, after all.

The thought haunted me for most of the day as I pored through my studies and observed the guards and strikes that flow from them, as I did every day at uncle’s behest.

I remained silent as I was summoned to dinner, rather than fed in my quarters. My uncle felt it unfitting an educator to favor a student, regardless of whether he tutored them or not. I was his only tutored student, but I could understand the principal.

I sat at the table, nothing fanciful was displayed in the bland, wooden quarters of Sir Giovanni. The humility of the knights and their sergeants is endless I suppose. I was served the usual food, hearty in meats and tubers seasoned with what the chapter could afford. Though I was given something extra this time, a pastry topped with a whipped citrusy foam.

“Your power manifested unfavorably. I sensed it, and I’m sure any of the gifted there who have yet to manifest their ways felt it as well.”

“Unfavorably?” I said as i poked my fork at the whipped foam and brought it to my mouth, licking it curiously.

“A complex manifestation, that is, one which shows no physical manifestation beyond that within, an internal power of sorts.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I dug again at the pastry.

“My apologies Lyss, I’m not used to teaching the manner of the world.” He said, sighing. “Complex manifestations are the stuff of warlords, a power sought for its ability to improve those who seek to improve their powers.”

I raised a brow as I began to dig deeper into my treat. giving a simple “Mmm?” in response as I chewed.

He sighed, hard. “Perhaps this can be discussed at a later time, considering the situation at hand.”

“The situation at hand?”

“Your birthday, no? Why else did you think we drilled on the basics so much today.”

“To uncover my power for my birthday?”

He nodded.

“But warlords will ‘seek me’ for my power?”

He nodded once more. “I hadn’t expected a complex manifestation. But… We are no warlords here, they exist in worse places. The lesser knights may collude with the most basal of the warlords who tarry about the woodlands, but the greatest of them stalk the frontiers.”

I stared blankly at him. “So for my birthday I get to be hunted for the rest of my life?”

“I suppose so, yes. But your power can grow like any others, and warlords travel in bands. The knights can endeavor to protect you the best we can, and there’s no shortage of complex manifestations forming amidst the lesser classes, well outside the walls of a stronghold.

“So I am spared so long as peasants exist with this same power?”

He nodded, again. “That is the idea of it I suppose.”

I frowned a bit, my stomach souring as I put my fork down and moved to drink from the flagon of water nearby. The water was quite crisp from the strongholds spring, far better than the small beer made from foul water that I often drank among the servants of the fort, though it carried a buzz of sorts if you indulged too much. I preferred the clarity of water, unlike my uncle who opted to drink the abbey monks fine beer made from the same springs that the knights drank from.

The rest of the night went plainly, I was occupied by the ideas of necessity. I was an inevitable part of some warlord’s scheme, a life is long and powers are limited after all, even if the “lesser classes” are abound to soak the most of that necessity. Its bothersome knowing others will, at least I assume, die in my place. Perhaps I was obsessing too much, as well, I had known not of any “warlords” before today, let alone the necessity of a complex manifestation for them. Or perhaps my upbringing was sheltered, and the Warlords truly do prey on those peasants unprotected by knights and the soldiers of fortune in cities.